At one level, faith communities are no different from other human assembly.
Opinions differ, interests collide, feelings get hurt, leaders fail, constituents renege on commitments, money has undue sway, and we store up grievances like currency for later use.
Moreover, churches tend to get as stuck as any other institution. Historic grievances are passed down from generation to generation, from old-timer to newcomer. Like a dysfunctional family that molds every new member to its self-defeating ways, we make sure that newness has the sour taste of oldness.
To join us, you must embrace our unresolved conflicts. To work alongside us today, you must accept the shame of what we failed to do yesterday. To be one of us, you must take sides in our disputes. To dine at our table, you must feel the guilt and anger that we feel over places left empty by those whom someone — someone else, of course — drove away.
We tend to pick up these burdens, because we care, we want to belong; we want to heal and to help. This assumption of someone else’s debt is noble, like the caregiver who goes to an area devastated by a disaster and says, “I share your pain, hand me a shovel.”
If we are to move forward, however, we need to develop the art of letting go, as well. Most conflicts don’t get resolved; they get put aside. Harsh words cannot be taken back, or failures erased, or cruelty suddenly refashioned as compassion. As Paul lamented, we are simply unable to do the right thing; we wound and diminish, and then we stare aghast at our handiwork.
In letting go, we give up trying to tie our failings into a neat package. Like those who knelt before Jesus, we simply beg forgiveness. I failed you, you failed me, we failed others, and now we need to move on in the hope that we can do better next time.
In letting go, we abandon thought of victory, or proving we were right, or naming the other wrong. Like the Hebrews in Sinai, we wake up to a new day, to new bread on the ground, and we eat as much as we need and then keep on moving toward Canaan.
As one who believes one more deep conversation might work, one more memo, one more voicing of pain or remorse, I know how hard it is to let go. For the bright and capable, such letting go is an admission of defeat. So be it.
As Jesus clearly said, we must lose, suffer, give way, and die to self — or else there is no life in us.
Tom Ehrich is a writer, consultant, and leader of workshops. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. The church wellness project may be found at www.churchwellness.com
