Please, Pray for your Pastor. Or Don't.

So, I got one of those messages on Social Media the other day… they come around from time to time:  Pray for Your Pastor.

And then it goes on to list some terrible statistics (without attribution).

97% of pastors have been betrayed, falsely accused or hurt by their friends

70% of pastors battle depression

7,000 churches close each year

1,500 pastors quit each month

10% will retire a pastor

80% of pastors feel discouraged

94% of pastor’s families feel the pressure of  ministry

78%  of pastor’s have no close friends

90% of pastors report working 55-75 hours per week.

And so apparently, we need your prayers.

Let me begin by commenting on how much I am bothered by statistics without attribution.  Was this survey done in 2014 or 1345? How large was the sample?  Was it across Denominations or were only the leaders of the Latvian Orthodox Church included?  But enough of that... let's assume that the numbers reflect a reality for many pastors/leaders in the mainline churches of North America

Let me also say that there are pastors, ministers, priest and other clergy who have been badly treated by systems that often seem un-caring, congregations that are fickle, and some generally rotten people out there in the world.   

But to claim a special burden because we are pastors only serves to exacerbate the problem of clergy isolation as it encourages us to believe that the world is out to get us.

Look at the numbers closely and wonder how many of  those same numbers might also apply to teachers… betrayed, depressed, under pressure, working 55 hours a week or more… given a degree but no job, made redundant every year because cut backs don’t allow more hiring, shown little respect by the public and targets of the hostility of many a parent who just doesn't understand  that their kid is nasty and not that bright.

Let’s wonder about accountants who get called at home by clients who need answers, audits and forms done right now!!  Never mind dealing with an uncaring CRA that changes rules and regulations at whim.

Nurses who face cuts backs, depression, long hours and unsympathetic work places.

Retail workers whose place of employment folds without warning.  

I have friends with PhDs who can’t get full time appropriately remunerated work – I’ll bet that  leads to discouragement, depression, pressure on the family and makes it hard to keep close friends.

Let’s take almost any profession… and  recognize that there is very little job security in 2015.  Very few people will retire in the job that they started in their thirties; very few people will avoid “betrayal” in life or work; everybody feels discouraged from time to time and the families of nearly all working adults feel the pressure of the work/career of the parent or spouse.

No close friends?  Is that really the churches fault?  Maybe the problem is that you’re working 75 hours a week… Don’t!

You see many of us, in a desire to be everything to everybody; to feel valued and loved ,will bend over backwards to please everybody in our ministry… and that is a formula for burn-out and self-destruction, whether you are in ministry or shoe sales; a cleric or an office worker.  At least pastors get to talk about setting boundaries, even if they don't or find it difficult to apply them. 

Let me suggest a few other things peculiar to pastors that others might wish they could include in their work/call/vocation/contract

1.       People line up every week to tell you what a good job you did – even if you didn’t.

2.      When someone dies, you know what to do… you actually have a role to play while others are stuck in their grief with nothing to do

3.      You get invited to a lot of wedding receptions: Free Food and Bar!

4.      You are invited into fascinating conversations on a regular basis and don’t have continually comment on the performance of the Blue Jays or new season of House of Cards

5.      You can take a break to play the piano during the work day and people respect  that you are being creative.

6.      During the work week you get to help the homeless, visit the sick, support young people and engage in Social Justice… while everybody else has to do those things in whatever time they can spare away from work and family obligations.

7.      People think that you work about 75 hours a week so usually leave you alone the weeks before and after Easter and Christmas (that’s almost a whole month).

8.      You get 7 weeks away from work every year and your employer pays for it.

9.      The church pays your phone bill.

10.   As you remind others, you are reminded daily that God is with you and that you are not in any of this alone.

11.  Every week your efforts are made real in music, word and art.  For me, that sure beats selling cars.

12.  Pension.  Yeah… we may complain about it – but we get one… I know millions who wish that they did, too.

For me, all in all, being a pastor is a pretty good deal.   It is hard at times and I suspect that most people couldn't do what I do on a full time basis – but I knew that when I responded to my sense of call.  I knew that my weekends would be forever ruined, I would not often get to go away to the cottage spontaneously; I knew that I would often see people at their worst and not be protected from pettiness and power mongering; I knew that strangers would occasionally blame me for God and all of the church’s failings; I knew that I would spend a great deal of time with people who are dying and/or grieving;  and I knew that I would change jobs half a dozen times before I got my pension  (apparently the generation just entering the work force now can expect to have no fewer than 15 jobs before they retire… in keeping with the inspiration for this post, I will offer NO attribution.)

I’m not saying that pastors don’t have a right to complain, many of them do, but insecurity, difficulty and struggle are not unique features to the pastors role… they are the realities for many (even most) people.  

So, please, pray for you pastor…

and your  Check Out Clerk

Store Manager

Assistant Manager

Officer Worker

Restaurant server

Teacher

Principal

Mechanic

Nurse

Paramedic

Police officer

Firefighter

Accountant

Retailer

Small business owner

IBM Project Manager

Musician

Actor

GM Worker

Social worker

Politician

Aesthetician

Butter and Egg man  (there’s a profession that’s disappearing)

You get the picture:  Pray for us all. 

I'm a Racist

I’m a racist.

I know that I haven’t written anything in ages (busy church, busy life) and that such a statement is a bit of a harsh way back into conversation with folks… but it needed to be said.

I am a racist.

I don’t want to be.

I don’t mean to be.

But the truth is that  words sound wiser in my ears when they come from a voice that sounds like my Grandfather.  

I listen more closely when the face sharing the message reminds me of my Grandmother.  

I tend towards foods that remind me of my Great Grandmother or the culinary heritage of my ancestors. 

I dance better to the rhythms of my childhood.  

My favourite games are the ones that I played with my parents.

Things that remind me of my childhood make me feel safe and comfortable.  

And all of these things make me tend toward my “Tribe” and similar “Tribes”.   I laugh at Irish jokes because I recognize the references and I will often think that other jokes aren't as funny because I am less familiar with their references and rhythms.   

I understand and support solutions that come from my cultural heritage and sound familiar to me.  I know that the best way to fix something is to find a good clever and strong man who will enforce his will for justice on the bad man.  I've learned that from my cultural reading list that begins with the Odyssey, carries on through our “Victory” in World War II and is found in movies like Dirty Harry and The Avengers.   I've been taught by well-meaning people that I should aspire to being good, clever and strong so that I can apply my solution to people’s problems and in that way, love them and make the world better.

That kind of tribalism makes me a racist and a bigot.

Not because I think that other races, cultures or groups are lesser – but because I simply do not give them equal weight when it comes time to listening, embracing or acting.  “Their” way just seems so backward. I give power and privilege to the familiar... sort of an "old boys network" of procedures and ethics. 

I am a cisgendered, heterosexual, man in his early fifties, descended from Irish and Scottish immigrants,  employed full time, and in a stable domestic relationship.  All of which speaks of privilege. (just to be clear, I also cheer for Toronto Sports teams, so it’s not like I’ve got everything going my way).  There are some in the same or similar cohort who want to deny the privilege that we have – but I suspect that much like climate change, we say we don’t believe it simply because we don’t know how to deal with the implications or how to make things better.  One cannot look at the evidence and rationally deny the existence of Climate Change or Racism.

 Yes, I have heard that “white men” can’t get jobs because they all go to “minorities.  (Please note, those who crow this sentiment and include women in the group “minorities” – women are actually in majority, so you are the minority seeking work.)  I have never experienced my person as a liability in finding employment.  I did lose an election once because, apparently, they were looking for a younger voice. That’s not unfair… that was a preference expressed by an informed majority.

I have the privilege of travelling and I have never been held up by airport officials with the exception of one extra baggage check during which the security officers were polite and apologized for taking up my time.

I have been questioned, detained investigated by police.  They have always taken my word when asked to explain myself, always treated me with polite respect, even when one officer thought that I was trying to be uncooperative. 

When I offer assistance to a stranger in the street, it is nearly always accepted and received with thanks.

When I am confused or lost in public, people are always helpful.

Now, all of this could be because of my striking good looks and obviously winning personality… 

or, more likely, it could be that in Toronto 2015, my cohort is in very good standing.  We are not terrorists, anarchists, bitches, immigrants, freeloader, petty criminals, violent thugs, or stupid outsiders – as least as far as public perception goes.

So, why am I dumping this on you, gentle reader?

For the past week or so, I've been stunned into shocked silence by the Earthquake that has devastated Katmandu and I have been equally stunned and shocked by the death of Freddie Gray and the ensuing public demonstrations.  I've sent some money to Nepal to aid in the relief… but I’m not sure what to do for Baltimore.

Except recognize the deep problem and try to at least be less of a contributor. 

What happened in Baltimore and continues to happen in cities and towns across North America is a result of racism. Like Climate Change: I know it, you know it… we just don’t know what to do, so we deny it, or simply shut up.

So, I may not be in time to stop the next black man or child from being assaulted, abused or murdered by the authoritarian system that I support (at least tacitly) – but maybe, I can start to do something that might save the somebody 150 people down the line.  I've

got to start somewhere.

I start by acknowledging that I tend to the familiar and I am most comfortable in my “tribe” – be it defined by race, culture, economics, gender, sexuality, age or something else.  And I commit myself to broadening – to opening up my tribe.  I do that by listening… by following… by praying…

I commit to not so much using my privilege as letting it go.  The world keeps offering me privilege and every time that I fix things “my way”, I get to be the hero and the power and privilege stay with me. Others are invited to look on in gratitude.   I need to let that go and NOT fix everything, but listen to other voices, support solutions that may not make immediate sense to me… I need to hear the voices and respect the opinions of those who are oppressed – rather than comparing their oppression to mine or denying their painful reality.   

And in this, I will begin to open my eyes, my ears and my heart to others.. I will open up my tribe so that one day, I just might recognize everyone as a brother or sister; might agree, disagree, struggle, collaborate in active love, not privileged charity… and maybe, I will recognize that a revolution is possible (as soon as we stop calling them all rioters).

Maybe one day, I will help my government take the needs of First Nations seriously.

Maybe one day, I will help my community be open to immigration.

Maybe one day, I will help my neighbour recognize that brilliant and free people do wear a hijab.

Maybe one day, I will be against violence without having to choose sides. 

Maybe one day, a bad police officer will be arrested immediately and we won't need to consider his or her colour

Maybe one day, I will be informed by the wisdom of elders that weren't at family dinners.

Maybe one day, I will be changed by you...

These thoughts are far from complete… but then, so am I.   But I’m working on it… And for those who might wonder if there’s anything religious in this… it is Jesus, who eats with tax collectors and Samaritans, who reminds me that I need to open up my understanding of tribe and it is a loving God who give me hope that we might all recognize our shared humanity and truly be brothers and sisters to one another.