Well That Was Quick

the razor's edge of congregational health

I've noticed a pattern.

Imagine if you will, a congregation that has gone through some sort of problem period perhaps it was misconduct, or a shared trauma, or something else that causes long-term members to remember with a wince how hard it was at that time.

Now that congregation has decided to turn toward health, and with the help of others – leaders, staff, maybe a minister – they have done a whole lot of work to address how they have been feeling, how they reacted as a result, and how they can do better with each other and for each other.

Leadership is on board, and committees are shifting their work toward health. The choir seems more joyous. Coffee hour is a time to be enjoyed, not dreaded. Meetings feel productive. And there is a general sense that everyone has made a turn from the things that were so hard.

But then something happens.

Maybe it's one change too many maybe it's someone coming back who didn't hasn't been part of the healing process. Maybe it's the one or two people who never liked anything that was happening and wished they'd go back to the way it was. Maybe the health has attracted more people and suddenly there are a lot of faces that are unfamiliar, or the board is continued considering going to two services to accommodate growth. Maybe a project was taken on that somebody doesn't like.

It doesn't matter what the thing is that happens, but something happens.

And the people who fought most for a turn toward health find themselves the targets.

What seemed like health just a few months before is now such a rat's nest that it's a wonder anything good happened at all. And often, it is the change agent who finds their proverbial head on the chopping block.

Where has health gone? Why is it so hard to sustain? And how did it happen so fast?

Now I will pause here to say that there are probably dozens if not hundreds of readers in various denominations who think “this song is about you” - and you'd both be right and wrong. Wrong in that I am writing about a pattern, not a particular congregation. But right in that this has happened to you and the particulars look different, and the names are different, but it happens. And it's real.

Religious communities, these institutions that seem so solid and permanent, thrive on a razor's edge between health and disarray. Right relationship and healing doesn't just magically appear, especially after something has happened to destroy it. I often use a reading from parenting blogger Kathleen Fleming called “Broken Things” to talk about these moments.

In her piece, Fleming relates the story of her son who, in his anger, slammed the bathroom door hard enough to dislodge the full-length mirror on the other side. In shock and surprise, Fleming observes what happened, secures the pets so they won't cut their feet, and then goes into the bathroom and sits with her son. After the tears and the hugs and the reassurances, Fleming and her son agree to clean up the broken glass, together. “It was careful work,” she writes. “It was thoughtful work.”

And then she reminds us:

“Sometimes things break. Sometimes we break them. It's not the breaking that matters, the how or why. What matters is how we choose to respond to the broken-ness. Does it kill us? Does it throw us into a downward spiral of blame and punishment? Or does it help us remember how to love deepest? Does it push us towards compassion and over the hurdle of ‘rightness’ and ‘wrongness’ into LOVENESS?”

Congregational health – like any relationship – takes work. That razor’s edge is a doozy, and it takes concentration and attention to stay balanced.

And I have seen too many congregations fail to maintain balance because there’s someone (or a group of someones) who are so unhappy that they simply speak a word and the air from their mouths tips the balance.

I have no easy solutions here. It is hard work. It is careful work. It is thoughtful work. And it requires vigilance. Being vigil to ensure the work is going well, but also being vigil to ensure that the disgruntled or freaked out don’t cause the whole thing to fall down.

Systemic health is a long term project and a constant journey. You can do it – I know many congregations that have. These are the ones who put good practices and processes in place to include everyone to hear dissent, to emphasize relationship over rightness. They assess regularly, consider what’s going well and what’s at risk, and preference community, connection, and communication over anxiety, anger, and fear.

It's hard work. It is careful work. It is thoughtful work.

But in the end, these are the congregations that genuinely like each other, enjoy each other’s company, and support their leaders and staff.

And I promise you it’s worth it.

Programming note: Hold My Chalice will be on hiatus May 14 and 21 while I attend another two intensive weeks of classes for my D. Min.