Inevitably, when parish clergy and leadership inform congregations about the clergy sabbaticals, the question of “why?” arises – after all, for most secular work, the equivalent of 3 months’ paid leave for every 5 years of service is non-existent. A New York Times article from 2010, “Evidence Grows of Problem of Clergy Burnout” chronicles some of the unseen consequences of the pastoral ministry of clergy among them higher rates of obesity, hypertension, asthma and depression than the American population and a growing rate of clergy who leave active ministry in only their first four years of service. The reality of the COVID-19 pandemic accelerated this trend among the clergy – a 2022 Opinion piece by Tish Harrison Warren chronicled some of the realities of the pandemic on clergy. Fascinatingly, the secular world is catching up – a recent Harvard Business Review article made “The Case for Sabbaticals — and How to Take a Successful One.” So what does this look like in my context as Rector of St. Paul’s, and an Episcopal Priest? Why a sabbatical, and why now?
First, it’s worth noting that compared to many churches, the Episcopal Church largely does a good job at encouraging clergy sabbatical. Most clergy letters of agreement upon taking a call provide for some form of sabbatical leave; my letter of agreement provides for three months’ paid sabbatical leave for every five years of pastoral service. I arrived as Rector in January of 2019 – so when sabbatical starts, I’ll have completed 6 years and 8 months service. But I’ve been ordained for 14 years and change – and this will be my first sabbatical.
So why only now? A combination of reasons. My job in my first parish cure lasted three years, and ended up being one of shepherding a small congregation to closure and merger. When that call ended, a new one ensued – but I only had about a week’s time to move from place to place, and barely any time to process the call that had just ended. In my second parish, I served about 5 years before realizing the work I could do for that congregation was complete, and they needed a new leader to take them into their next stage. In accepting the call to St. Paul’s, we needed to make a cross-country move – from New York to Washington – and settle in. But even there, I only had about a month of transition time before work resumed. In the end, sabbatical time isn’t based on cumulative service, but time in a particular congregation. So at several key moments in my ordained vocation thus far, the sabbatical “clock” has reset.
The clock is now past due both in terms of my time at St. Paul’s, and in the longer arc of my ordained ministry. It’s hard to put into the words the realities of being a solo parish priest. I love my job – but it truly is non-stop. In fact, I’d argue I’m not the best person to give insight about why it is time for a sabbatical – St. Paul’s folks might consider asking Em what my work looks like from her perspective. But here are a few things I do see.
One reality of wearing a collar is functionally wearing a projection screen on your neck at all times – parish clergy receive all the many emotions around both our parishioners’ and the public’s feelings around their spiritual lives, their politics, and their opinions as to what the church should be doing. Because clergy are clergy, often this means we are “safe spaces” where folks can be completely honest. But it also means “safe targets” expected to absorb the emotions of others without responding in the way others would. This is not a job where you can please everybody, and in fact, you’ll make people quite angry along the way – and carrying both the good and bad of relationship in community requires time to tend to one’s own soul.
Parish clergy also non-profit administrators, constantly overseeing an organization not of employees, but of volunteers – trying to get things done, picking up slack when it isn’t, and doing it all with limited resources. We are functionally “on-call” 24/7 for pastoral needs when we aren’t on vacation; but almost all of us can recall vacations interrupted because of a pastoral emergency – no matter how firm the boundaries we put on our time away. Em could tell you on numerous occasions how dinner is interrupted or I have had to get up in the middle of the night; two occasions rise to my mind: one was an urgent demand for pastoral care while I was on paternity leave following N’s birth even as Em recovered from a C-section; a second required extensive time on the phone while I was in Mexico because of a traumatic death.
And alongside of that – we need to maintain balance not just in our family lives, but in our spiritual lives.
Which is to say, it’s a lot. I’m lucky compared to many colleagues – on the whole, I’ve been able to manage the stress of it all decently well. It has required asserting my own boundaries – even if it isn’t always popular (for instance, taking all the vacation I’m allotted, or recognizing that a 12-hour workday on Monday should be followed up with a 4-hour workday on Tuesday if it’s possible and defending that choice). St. Paul’s managed the COVID-19 shutdown quite well all considered, but there was a real toll to that too – months in our homes meant that all of us were a little less well equipped for the art of human interaction, and the time in parish life after emerging from lock down was significantly more challenging than usual, both practically and emotionally.
One way or another, I know – and to their credit, the Vestry knows and has known – that I’ll be a better and more able minister if I have dedicated time to tend my own garden and watch after my own soul. To do quality discernment as to God’s call in my life, and to figure how to faithfully respond, a measure of distance is required from the day-to-day urgency of pastoral ministry. Perhaps the best analogy I can give is to the well-trodden image of a frog in slowly-boiling water. Clergy acclimate rapidly to our environment, and if we aren’t careful – if we don’t get out of the water from time to time – we could get scalded without even realizing it’s happening.
Does this mean I’m tired of St. Paul’s, or done with ordained ministry? Oh, good heavens no! To be called as Rector of St. Paul’s and to live in Walla Walla is the greatest gift of my ordained ministry. Fourteen years in, the work of ordained ministry in the Episcopal Church is as exciting to me as it ever has been – and the following of Jesus within this community is as important to me as it ever has been. The work is more dear to me than ever.
But for September, October, and November, it is time to go on an adventure with my family (especially as N turns 4 and kindergarten and grade school beckon), and to take time to seriously consider where exactly I stand. What is God doing in my life, and in the life of St. Paul’s? How am I as a dad, a husband, and a priest called to respond to God’s movement in my life now?
With the help of my family, the Holy Spirit, and yes, rest – I am certain I will know a lot more on the other side of sabbatical than I did before. And, given the work St. Paul’s will be doing in my time away I think the parish will know itself better, too. Both realities will help us respond to God’s call with new faithfulness.