Never Fearing Wild Things

[ I wrote this back in 2021. The following year, 2022, I would take a 3 month leave of absence for my own “burnout”. It is now drawing to the end of 2023, and I remain exhausted. Now the excuse is “Long Covid”. I am currently reading a compelling and provocative book entitled: The Church After Innovation: Questioning Our Obsession with Work, Creativity, and Entrepreneurship (by Andrew Root). And I am wondering – could it be possible there are better ways to live? ]

Pride cometh before the fall.

I have (with hidden pride) read the many articles about folks burning out during the pandemic because they couldn’t manage the “work/life balance”.  The hidden pride isn’t so much because I think I have it figured out, but rather, I am “aware” of this issue and therefore (so my subconscious tries to convince me) I will not fall victim to it.

Famous last words.

Priests are notorious for overwork, stress, fatigue, exhaustion and in rare cases, the more nefarious outcomes of too much work and not enough proper rest.  I’ve always prided myself on being ‘ahead’ of this curve.  Sure, I work long hours sometimes and get tired.  There are seasons where I ‘crash’ and suddenly need some down time to recoup.  I take my holidays and try really really hard to take at least one day off a week, some weeks two.

This experience of work bleeding into days off is something priests have been dealing with for centuries.  There is no true “down time”, unless you are offsite and someone is covering for you.  A day off can be interrupted by all sorts of things – the death of a parishioner, or the near death; a pipe burst in the church kitchen; a frantic mother whose child has just been diagnosed with something horrible.  The list goes on.

Then add onto that the new productivity issues that are facing many of us in this pandemic world.  Emails that never stop coming – so it isn’t that they need to be dealt with right away, but if you don’t, you’ll feel absolutely overwhelmed when you do get around to them.  There is the article, or service, or information that needs to be put on the website, and your tech volunteer just moved to a different city.  There are the messages that this person or that person (and there are many of them, each and every week), would love to hear from the priest.  They are lonely, they are hurting, they are dying, they are struggling.  They want to hear a comforting word, and be reminded that God loves them, with a human voice on the other end of the phone.  And though it is lovely for them to hear from other parishioners, they want to hear from the priest.

The new financial reality that many churches are facing – decreased givings – leads to other changes that inevitably affect the priest’s work week.  We had to retire the position of our office administrator this year.  In the middle of a pandemic when most of our parishioners are in their later years and not able to volunteer, an inordinate amount of work falls on the corporation.  Wardens work harder, priests pick up the slack and we all wonder when we might get off the merry-go-round.

One of the unique experiences (at least for me at this particular parish) has been the unceasing chorus of “what does the priest actually do?”  I’ve been accused of not doing my job properly many times.  People have wondered why they couldn’t find me in the office (some of these people never actually came to the office to look for me).  Usually it was because I was at a meeting or out visiting someone.  Then they wonder why I don’t do pastoral calls and visits. 

Just this week, after being in communication with a family going through a terrible crisis and settling with them that I would come over for a visit when they were ready and felt safe, I received an email from one of my honourary assistants telling me of their plight and suggesting “it might be good if you reach out them”.  If this were a one time event, I would dismiss it.  But it happens again and again.  I get emails and phone calls from people who are worried I am not doing my job, offering me helpful advice on how to go about it.

I find myself exhausted.  I get overly excited when my day off comes, and feel the dread creeping up as the day draws to close.  I try to fight the inclination on my day off to write down everything I need to get done at work – who I need to call, what tasks might help get me ahead of the game.

These feelings grieve me deeply.  I have always loved my work as a priest.  I’ve loved the variety of tasks that need doing.  I love visiting with people and the honour of journeying with them through life’s challenges.  I love writing and reading and exploring the mystery that God is in real time on the ground of daily life.  I love creating an environment that invites people into worship, into the embrace of God.  I love the church.  

But I am starting to feel like the church is sucking the life out of me.  This isn’t the kind of fatigue that comes from working too hard for a particular season.  This feels deeper, like the marrow being drained from my bones.  I am weepy.  I think about early retirement, a leave of absence, the impossibility of a sabbatical (still after 12 years as a priest).  

The well has run dry.