Is It Okay For Pastors To Take a Day Off?

PeaceBang SPUTTERED when she saw this question asked on Twitter this morning. She practically choked on her coffee. The actual quote was, “Do you feel okay having a day off every week?”

Some context, first: the poser of the question was having a conversation with a colleague in his mid-50’s who spent a recent night watching a movie and writing letters to congregants, because this seemed to him a good idea (?).
“Work doesn’t end,” she wrote of this approach to ministry. “This was how he was taught to be a pastor thirty years ago.”

Pigeons, I too was taught to be a pastor thirty years ago. I am in my mid-50’s. I am very dedicated to taking a day off, even if (true confessions) I often allow work to bleed into that day. I also respond to emergencies whenever they arise, and I have a generous interpretation of “emergency.” That said, I keep an eye on my time for rest and renewal and will schedule myself a day or two off when those interrupted days off accumulate.

I do not refer to my day off as my “sabbath” because I do not keep it holy, and because I think that this framing is precious and pious for my context in the Unitarian Universaist tradition, which is largely Humanist and eclectic. UU ministers who never preach from the Bible but who refer to their day off as their “sabbath” make me roll my eyes far up into my cranium. Give me a break. Your mileage may vary, of course.

I have recommended against auto-reply messages on clergy email that make a big deal out of taking a day off. NORMALIZE TAKING A DAY OFF. It should be in your contract and an understood aspect of your life. If parishioners who email you expect an immediate reply, address that directly, not through passive-aggressive little email auto-responses. Use those extremely sparingly, please, remembering that every time someone pops a quick note to you they do not want to have to get the “I am a Holy Person and am therefore unattached to my devices between 8AM Monday and 8:10 AM Thursday, unlike you, you frantic mortal. Please respect my enlightened schedule and do not litter my inbox with your petty concerns until I have re-entered your realm, at which time I will grace you with a reply. After I’ve had my coffee.”

Enchantment with the capitalistic ethos of overwork is not generational. It may be regional, or denominational, or gendered. Whatever it is, if is legion among those in our work and over-functioning is almost certainly the number one reason clergy are leaving parish positions in droves. Too many clergy are what someone, and I’m sorry I can’t remember who, called “quivering masses of availability.” I understand that some parishes expect this and punish clergy who set appropriate boundaries around insanely demanding systems and overly-demanding individuals, and I always applaud when ministers resign from those congregations. Bravo! Walk right out those doors.

But in my experience and observation, the commitment to clergy overwork as a way to prove ones merit is often internal. I am preaching this to myself, gang. I find it very, very hard to let go and stop. I love what we do. I think about the next sermon and meeting and pastoral call on my day off, of course I do. I worry about my parishioners when I should be sleeping. I try to figure out what hymns to sing while grocery shopping. My mind and heart are ever with the church unless I have a good long period of time off, which I take during the summer (and sometimes in the winter I am successful at really unplugging during a January or February vacation). Twenty-four years into this, I am still trying to get better at doing what I can for six days of the week and letting go on the seventh. Let things remain undone. See what happens. Will you actually be berated or will you berate yourself?

How much of your sense that you have to actually keep up with the endless demands of ministry is coming from your leaders? How much is coming from you? I am still trying to fully internalize a loving admonition made to me by my board of trustees that clearly stated that they wanted me to take my day off and my vacation time. During the pandemic shut-down, many of us spent endless hours learning how to do online programming. I was often up until 1AM learning video editing or solving tech problems. I mistakenly thought that naps during the day were sufficient refreshment and I did not take many whole days off because I felt constantly panicked and desperate about managing the crisis.

What I understand now is that this was noticeable. Very noticeable.
This isn’t to heap burning coals upon my head, it is just to state the truth: stressed and strained pastors bring stressed and strained spirit to the church. We can do nothing else. Put on your own oxygen mask first, & etc.

To deny oneself at least a day off is not only sad and dysfunctional, it is arrogant! “I am too important to step away for a day!” It sets a toxic example for church members. It leads to competitive martyrdom among clergy and church staff, the sort that leads to ridiculous one-upmanship at gatherings, where one’s level of burn-out and exhaustion is often presented as a sign and symbol of commitment and moral superiority and tacitly received as such.

NONE OF US ARE THAT IMPORTANT ALL THE TIME.
Sometimes it IS vey important that we be there. We must take care of ourselves not only for the sake of it, but also because we are first responders and need to have the inner resources to bring compassionate presence to crises. Given that the entire country (and globe) has been in crisis for 18 months, this directive takes on even more potency.

If your congregation treats you as though you are the only one who can pray, the only one who can bring the care and strength and comfort of the church universal to grieving or lonely persons, the only one who can make decisions about how to decorate the sanctuary, the only one who can lead the meeting or the program, they are feeding your ego to their own detriment. This is not the way Jesus worked, this is not the way God ordered the world. And speaking of Mr. J, he had a very short ministry and wound up on the Cross. He is your savior, not your ministerial mentor. God, our sovereign boss, made it very clear that we take time off. Even the land is supposed to get time off. Even the servants and the animals get time off. Who are you to think you have to labor ceaselessly?

“I’ll try to get to that tomorrow.”
“What would you like to talk about? I’d like to be able to prepare, and also, if this isn’t an urgent matter I’d like to schedule it further out” (this for those controlling types who like to keep you on edge with mysterious requests “to talk.” Don’t accept mysteries. You have a church to care for; you need to be able to set your priorities for the day and week).
“Yes, that is my day off but let me see what I can do, because I’d love to go to this!”
“I’ve got a family thing that weekend, is there another date that’s possible?” (And YES, single people, we can use this, too!! We also have family! They may not be blood kin, but if they are people whose lives are deeply important to ours and whose love and support we rely on, they are family).

Here’s the thing: your people should care about their pastor as a human being. If they don’t, they aren’t spiritually right and you have to try to get them there. You cannot do this if you don’t care about yourself as a human being outside of your role as pastor.

I have been in the parish ministry full time since 1997. It has taken me many years to put myself in perspective, and I still struggle with it. I struggle with my sense of importance. I struggle to let go of the reins. I struggle with guilt because I don’t talk to everyone I want to talk to and yes, the work is never done. I struggle with having the energy and creative spark to equip, encourage and organize the congregation to engage in its own ministry: that’s what we should be doing, but a thousand other responsibilities are also on our plates and sometimes it’s easier to do it ourselves than to mentor, teach and train. I know. I get it. Sometimes I have to make an actual plan with a friend to get out of the house on my day off because I know that if I don’t, I will spend much of the day catching up with administrative tasks, filing, figuring out a calendar issue, contacting “just a few” people to line up meetings, or in a million other ways reinforcing my fantasy that I am the Hercules holding planet church on my shoulders.

Let God hold the church for a day. If you don’t step back and make space, the Holy Spirit will get shoved against the wall holding her cup of coffee watching with amusement as the Busy Busy Pastor rushes around clumsily and exhaustedly doing what She had been perfectly available to do. There is an inexhaustible source of energy, I believe this to be so. But we cannot get close enough to it to be renewed, refreshed and in-Spirited if we never stop working.

God bless you, my lovely colleagues. Let yourself be at rest for a portion of the week.

Knowing What Your Congregation Pledges

A thread on Twitter today made me want to blog a longer explanation of why deciding not to know what individual parishioners pledge is not the holy flex some pastors want to think it is.

The big argument put forth by the OP (original poster) is that she feels that knowing this information creates a bias or power dynamic that she wants to avoid.

If knowing what your congregation is pledging will harden your heart against them or create a sense of favorites, please search your soul. Take it up with your spiritual director. This is not a mature response to information about your church’s finances and stewardship spirit.

I call this approach the “precious piety” style of pastoral leadership, where the clergy is just too holy or whatever to dirty their hands with such matters as filthy lucre.

My grandfather was the Treasurer of his Greek Orthodox church for seventy years. So it was okay for him to know how much the members of his community gave financially to the church but not for the priest to know? I have no idea what his priests did in this matter but they raised a lot of money, so I suspect that they were fully informed.
If the priests avoided this administrative work, the implication is clear: the clergy must be distanced from this knowledge but it’s fine to burden the lay leaders with the entirety of the financial information, or to task them with feeding the pastor little kiddie-sized bites of it so as not to soil their opinion of people they have taken sacred vows to care for.

Got it.
As if money isn’t a prevalent reality for literally everyone in our communities.

What pastors who intentionally refuse to know what their parishioners give are saying is, “I can’t be trusted with this information,” or “I agree with you that I can’t be trusted with this information.” Neither of those options affirms pastoral integrity — and both need to be challenged. If a bishop or diocese or higher authority dictates this policy, this member of the clergy in the Free Church tradition thinks that’s a real tell regarding the hierarchy’s assumptions of the character of their clergy (or their own integrity). They worry about unconscious bias? So what are their policies around blocking clergy access to information about their parishioners that might trigger priests’ unconscious bias around gender, race, educational levels, home decor, weight and dietary choices, choice of spouse, child-rearing style, and… you get my point. Finance phobia is just that. Clergy are subject to have opinions of their people as a matter of being human. That is why we are expected to engage in strenuous spiritual practice to the goal of compassion, appreciation, love, forgiveness and the seeking of grace.

What does it say, Biblically, when pastors refuse to sit at the table with the stewardship chair or other key financial officer of the church to do a review of the annual giving campaign?
“This isn’t spiritual enough for me” or “I am too fragile to have access to information about members of our community: please handle all of this alone” is an abdication of leadership support for finance folks and I think it’s unbiblical to boot.

Finally, if the argument is, “Well, I am not afraid to know anything about my parishioners except what they give the church because my paycheck depends on their contributions,” then you’re saying that you can’t separate your position as spiritual and administrative leader of the church from your anxiety about your personal job security. That is understandable, just say that. Maybe the notion of seeing names and dollar amounts fills your with anxiety and messes with your feelings for people. Just say that. It’s your issue, it’s your decision, it may be something you inherited in the church culture when you got there and you have decided not to challenge it, that’s fine. Just don’t spiritualize it, please.

Coronachurch: Tech Helps For Online Worship, How We’re Doing Things, Zoombombing, Children’s Chapel:

Hello darlings,

Wow.
Whoa.
I am doing okay? Okay? I think? Are you okay?

So much has changed since I posted my first Coronachurch entry on March 17th. I have adjusted my opinion on some things and not on others.
We made it through Easter. God did what God always does. We took naps. We grieved and we celebrated. We are still grieving… and celebrating. I hope you are seeing enough resiliency, creativity and connection among your people to warm and encourage you to find a worship service.

In some ways, we were absolutely not trained or prepared for this. On the most important levels, however, this is EXACTLY the time for which we have prepared all of our lives. Spiritual practice. Focus on the eternal and the essential. The ability to be present and faithful in the presence of suffering, loss and death. I know that my readers are progressives and are not engaging in bad, horrible, irresponsible religious leadership of the kind that has literally killed conservative clergy. God has them now. Peace be upon them and their congregations. Lord Jesus. You shall not put your Lord God to the test!!!

I catch myself many times per day sighing deeply. Sadness upon sadness. I am listening for the deep sighing on Zoom meetings so that we can stop and acknowledge. The breath reveals so much.

The Children’s Chapel program details start at about 18:15 (Someday I’ll learn how to easily add captions and edits to these videos but now is probably not that time). At 22:30, I talk about why I do not forecast to “when can we open, what will that look like” when I am alone or with my folks. I do not want to put my energy into where I’d rather be than where we are right now. We are learning so much about how to cope with right now, it seems like denial and distraction to start to plan for … when we . My reserves need to be about coping with, and helping other people cope with, TODAY. I have a Google folder where I park ideas about re-opening. I firmly believe that planning for the Whenever blocks our creativity and blocks the movement of the Holy Spirit. I get that insight through prayer, and I share it with you in the conviction that it is a word from a God who loves us.

This is a long video. Maybe you will watch it over a few viewings, like 10 minutes at a time with a cuppa tea.
Much love, much heart, kiss of peace!

Extendable 50″ Tripod with ring light and remote.

PowerDeWise Professional Grade Lapel Mic

Desktop Tripod with Remote (not the one I have, but I like this make)

Coronavirus And Ministry: Part 2, Online Worship

Hello from Quarantine.

I have not left my house for almost a week except to take the dog for a walk or drive him to the beach. I am cutting short my sabbatical and returning to work a month early, on April 10. Meanwhile, I consult with leaders and am grateful for the time to learn, process the enormity of this, continue to quarantine (I’m not even risking much social distancing — my feeling is that people who can essentially quarantine should do that).

I have been viewing some online worship services and I have these very unofficial observations to offer, with the caveat that you are all TROOPERS for getting whatever you got together over three days:

1. Zoom with lots of people on the screen at the same time doesn’t work for worship. I really don’t think it does. It may be a nice experience for the people actually on the call at the time, but it is visually confusing and alienating for those who watch after the live broadcast. How about keeping the worship service just the worship leaders and then going to a Zoom social hour or check-in?
Or, alternately, can you reveal the faces of all the (online) gathered during community sharing? I haven’t used Zoom yet, so I’m not sure how this works. Feel free to leave your tips in the comments, much appreciated.

2. Zoom reportedly works great for coffee hour break-out rooms. I do not know how to convene such a thing (yet) but colleagues are speaking with great enthusiasm about how it has worked for their folks.

3. Sound quality has been very bad for many of you, but you know that. An empty sanctuary has terrible acoustics. Please post comments with tips and tricks. Preachers, please warm up and speak from the diaphragm. Some of you sound very strained shouting into the emptiness and I’m concerned for your vocal health.

4. Short, close-up videos of clergy reading a prayer or speaking directly to parishioners has worked very nicely in several examples I viewed. PLEASE be aware of your camera angle and lighting — don’t make people look up your nose. This also goes for Facebook Live broadcasts.

5. When solo, do not subject your viewers to a solid hour of you talking. If you can’t have musical interludes or other players (which is fine), shorten the program.

6. If you are attempting a corporate worship experience online, it needs to have some dynamic quality. Sitting at a table and reading off a manuscript is very casual and relaxed and better suited for a community check-in than online public worship.

7. Bring in the focus from the wide-angle shot from the back of the sanctuary.
Consider shortening your service a lot and bringing the camera in much closer so that you’re not basically trying to fill all that empty space with your one body and voice.

8. Muted, sepia-toned color washes are depressing.
Please bring in some flowers and light if you possibly can. Some videos I’ve seen look like they were filmed inside a sanitarium. I know that lighting was not your big priority this past week but as you get better at these productions, do consider lighting.

9. Please watch the placement of props and camera angles.
One gentleman pastor looked like he had a container of flowers growing out of his crotch. Make sure to do “last looks” before you start taping.

10. One minister produced a blooper reel and it was so adorable. She posted a video compilation of about six outtakes of her and her staff muffing up little things and cracking up, and it was so charming and endearing! It showed how new this all is, how much warm, loving spirit she and her staff were bringing to this work, and that none of them had lost their senses of humor.

Now I am going to list some skills I need/want to acquire, and some questions I have about the production of online worship:

1. Posting slides for hymn lyrics or readings during a Facebook Live broadcast.
2. Adding the Facebook Live link to our website.
3. Making sure the Facebook Page is accessible to view by those who don’t have a FB account.
4. music! how? Confer with Music Director and pianist.
5. Video editing: getting clips from folks at home to edit together for a community check-in to share.
6. Zoom gatherings: what, when, how.
7 Easter? Outdoors? Beach? This could be beautiful… do together with other congregations?
8. Don’t freak out.
9. Don’t freak out.
10. You don’t have to learn all of this TODAY.

Peace, take care, be safe. Put the oxygen mask over your own face first. I love you.

Happy Clappy Joy Joy Nope

Hey gang.
A hard week for those who loved and admired Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche community. Another blow in this era of disturbing revelations (although is there really any other kind of era?).

A word to pastors having a hard time with this:

First of all, don’t preach or practice cheap grace, rushed reconcilings and coercive forgiveness. To do so is bad pastoring. Such recommendations are based in shallow theology and perpetuate systems of silencing and oppression.

You are not required to stay positive and hopeful at all times.

There’s a reason the Holy Scriptures don’t hide the sight of Jesus crying over Jerusalem from us. You get to cry over Jerusalem, too.

Don’t let the American idols of perpetual happiness and self-improvement cloud your faith and your integrity of soul.

It may make your people uncomfortable to hear you express your pain, but they are acquainted with the psalms and the prophets, it won’t bother them. Help them build a tolerance for rage and sorrow that the wider culture avoids by any means necessary; many of those means being damaging and addicting.

Your people should be engaged in spiritual practice by which they can be in deep encounter with the love and mystery and even the absence of God themselves. Your feelings and affect (which you do need to manage to a certain degree so as to remain appropriate, functional, present and faithful) should not be the barometer of whether or not your community is doing well. If you and your congregation are so focused on your emotions that it causes people to go into a fix-it panic when you express discouragement or even despair with the world as it is, remind yourself and them that you are not the Faith-Haver-In-Chief. You are there to model faithfulness, to preach the gospel as best you can with an assist from the Holy Spirit, and to facilitate your people’s own spiritual practices and growth.

Jesus didn’t ask the disciples to tell him jokes, keep him happy, distract him or protect him the night he was taken into custody. He just asked them to stay awake with him. Staying awake is hard. Remember how badly the disciples screwed it up.

We approach Lent together. From what things, ideas, products, behaviors, beliefs will you abstain in order to enter into a more intimate relationship with the God who called you to this work?

I have been on sabbatical since November 10th and am beginning to truly understand and respect, through many many hours of reflection and recognition, how demanding the work of ministry has been in this last decade.

You are not responsible for the emotional tenor of your community. You are not required to bring joy and hope every day. This is not a show in which you are the star. This is a pilgrim journey and when the path leads up a steep hill, you are allowed to wipe the sweat from your brow, stumble on the loose rocks and stop for a breather just like everyone else.

Much love and strength to you, and also lots of pancakes on Tuesday. xoxo PB