Several articles have recently reported on the alarming number of clergy exhausted by their work. Large numbers report that they are always “on.” It seems that in a work-obsessed society, pastors tend to be among the hardest workers. Too often they find themselves and a small cadre of their parishioners working themselves into exhaustion, while a much larger number enjoys the free ride (Michael Walzer). The solution seems obvious: clergy and their communities need to rethink the work they do together. They might begin by agreeing that clergy will work no more than five days per week.
As momentous a change as that would be, rest alone will not solve the problem for many pastors. Workplace burnout typically involves not only overwork but frustrating work, when individuals feel their work is in vain. Ironically, the problem for many clergy is not in trying to reach the larger world, but in dealing with their own congregations. In Congregations Gone Wild Jeffrey MacDonald complains that many clergy feel torn between their callings and their congregations. While MacDonald writes of this as a recent trend, in some sense it is nothing new. The book of Exodus, for example, famously records Moses being worn out by his “stiff-necked” congregation. This long history may only add to a pastor’s sense of futility, but the ancient story may also help explain why it is that so many pastors and parishioners feel alienated from one another.
There’s clearly something about us human beings that makes life in community vexing as well as rewarding. Whether we name this original sin or the persistent tendency to insist we know best, Scripture and our long history teach us that the people of God are not immune to the challenges of living together. God’s grace does not vaccinate us from the disease we name as sin. This point is fundamental and bears repeating, which leads me to my main point: communities must be formed or trained in a theological identity if they are to navigate faithfully the “wilderness” that is American culture.
The Church of Egypt or Exodus?
MacDonald identifies differing sets of expectations about what it means to be the church. The parishioners ask for more comforting. He reflects many pastors’ wish that the members would stop whining and begin “[sharing] in the suffering of others, including people they would rather ignore.” MacDonald longs for “parishioners who understand that the church exists, as it always has, to save souls by elevating people’s values and desires.” They ask for a little shelter; he calls upon them to visit the homeless shelter. They expect a sense of hopefulness; he hopes for radical transformation.
The pastor and parishioners seem locked in some sort of codependent relationship, each a reaction to the other. I can almost hear Moses complaining to the Lord and the ancient Israelites complaining to each other. Of course, Moses did more than complain. He also worked to teach, train, and form that motley crew into a people of the covenant. In contrast, MacDonald’s appeal lacks any mention of God. Perhaps this is nothing more than an effort to be sensitive to one’s audience, the readers of the New York Times. At best this seems a misguided strategy and at worst it is indicative of a failure to attend to one’s theological convictions. Without talk of God, how are we to make sense of faith or the work we do?
Most churches are different, of course. They talk about God all the time. It is less clear, however, that congregations are nurtured to think about the church’s identity in relation to God. Without a clear theological identity, the church is left to battle over conflicting agendas, ideals, and aspirations. Too often, congregations seem like split personalities, lurching back and forth from one extreme to the other, a spa for spiritual clients versus a gymnasium for spiritual athletes.
Lost in the wilderness
To be sure, there is a whole host of challenges to nurturing a congregation in a coherent theological identity, from Sunday soccer to aging congregations, but an overlooked and underlying challenge is that congregations exist within a free society. The culture of religious liberty frees individuals to choose their religion or no religion. Many scholars have pointed out that freedom as freedom from tradition makes for a good deal of creativity, but it also makes for a kind of wilderness experience, in which individuals are bereft of clear signs and direction. In this context, we may come to rely more intensely on God’s guidance, but we may also become fixated on one aspect of God, like the ancient Israelites with the golden calf. Theologian H. Richard Niebuhr pointed out that churches tend to become obsessed, as it were, with one person of the Trinity or with the Bible or with their own institutional existence.
When it comes to the church, many congregations are pulled between a vision of church as a hospital for sinners or as a gymnasium for saints. The problem is that most congregations don’t quite fit either vision. American congregations, unlike the medieveal church, do not graciously baptize all the babies in their geographical area. Nor, by and large, do they appear as sects, exerting a strong discipline on the members of a gathered or closed community. Instead, most churches have strong incentives to appeal to new members, who it turns out are interested in participating in a community whose discipline is limited to persuasion (Ernst Treoltsch).
Whatever one’s vision of the church, the question remains whether the pastor can lead his or her congregation to embrace this same vision as their own. Unlike Moses, American pastors long ago ceased being able to command their parishioners. They operate instead by consensus, more like politicans than prophets. No one wants to return to the days of compulsion, but building and maintaining consensus is no picnic either, especially when a congregation lacks a unifying vision of what the church is. The question, then, is what is the church to be, a hospital for sinners, a gymnasium for saints, or some third thing?
The Church as Halfway House
The church in America is for the most part a hybrid or halfway house, combining elements of both forgiveness and discipline. It is also like a literal halfway house. Since its earliest days, the church at its best has been a home for repentant tax-collectors and sinners, recovering addicts and criminals. It is a community that, having heard the good news, confesses its brokenness even as it works to mend up the broken-hearted. This church understands conversion to be a life-long task, a continual process for all the members of the covenant. In this vision, the people of God are both saints and sinners, but they are also on a pilgrimage that involves discipline, striving, and recovery.
Many churches share this core identity, what one might call a covenant of grace. Of course, they also display tradition-specific features, but beneath such distinctives is a common framework of belief, a theological identity in need of nurturing. This is a daunting challenge in part because it’s not a discreet task that can be checked off once and for all or even weekly. It calls for constant attention in the ordinary moments of a congregation’s life: in preaching and worship, baptisms and confirmations, marriages and funerals, retreats and hallway conversations, newsletters and blogs, and on and on. It is easy to see why pastors need rest, and lots of it, but in these countless moments, pastors and parishioners have the opportunity to help us reenvision church, what it means to be part of this motley crew, this halfway house, this covenant of grace.
DAVID TRUE is associate professor of religion at Wilson College, Chambersburg, Pa.
