At a men’s breakfast, I took a deep breath and told about my experiences of being abused as a pastor.

For 20 years, I went from one abusive situation to another. A small group, usually longtime members who resented my efforts toward growth and mission, believed they had the privilege and the duty to make my life miserable.

They left snide notes, sometimes anonymous, at my desk. They berated me in parish meetings and made sure I knew my salary was on the line. They started whispering campaigns and held secret meetings that they made sure I knew about. One warden sat in my office and said, “We are going to destroy you, Tom.”

“Why did you stay so long?” asked one of the men.

Whoa!

Now that was a good question. Why did I stay so long?

“It was like being an abused spouse,” I said. You know it’s happening, and the abuse hurts, but you feel paralyzed, unable to fight back and yet unable to walk away. I knew I wasn’t perfect as a pastor; I had my flaws. Is abuse the deserved punishment for being imperfect?

I didn’t cave in to the abuse and changed my focus on growth and mission. I didn’t cater to their whims. But I did think that I could survive it, turn it to good, make sense of it, outsmart them. That was delusional. No less delusional was the belief, as was common in clergy circles, that being a “wounded healer” was how ministry would be done.

“I have never seen that happen,” one man said. Another, however, said, “Oh yes, I have seen plenty of that.” We talked about churches and clergy-lay relationships.

“What can we do about it?” one asked.

“My answer has been the Church Wellness Project,” I said. “I have been trying to help churches get healthy.” Teaching the nuts and bolts, trying to be clear about roles, processes, best practices.

This exchange over breakfast led me to two conclusions. First, it reaffirmed my commitment to this Church Wellness work. It is just insane when churches beat up on their clergy – which is the norm – and when clergy think they must endure abuse to do their jobs and to protect their families’ financial well-being, and when they fall into the trap of thinking anything less than perfection will warrant assault. It is insane for churches to pursue worst practices and, in effect, make the choice to die. That isn’t leadership or stewardship. That is lazy and mean.

Second, it made me realize how invisible and hidden abuse tends to be. Not just abuse of clergy, but the much larger problem of abused wives and abused husbands, as well as abused children and, we are now seeing, abused elders. The fact that we don’t see it doesn’t mean abuse isn’t happening. We must learn to see subtle signs. We must learn to ask good questions. We must provide safe and trustworthy settings, like this men’s breakfast, where the abused can speak openly.

Instead of learning how to do Sunday liturgy with special excellence, clergy need to learn about abuse, as well as about incest, addiction, and family systems. How can we possibly help people where they live if we don’t know what they are enduring?

Church leaders need to pursue this learning, too. Anyone can manage a church budget. It doesn’t require a vestry or session or council. Leaders should probe the realities around them. They should see the world and ask how their faith community can make a difference. Some of that is upside work – seeing opportunities – but some of it, maybe most of it, is downside work: seeing the pain people experience, seeing the ways people betray each other, seeing the daily struggles. And then having the courage to respond.

When clergy fixate on Sunday worship, they are hiding from reality. When lay leaders fixate on budgets, facilities and history, they are hiding from reality. Those fixations aren’t just weak strategies. They are a failure to serve.
 

About the Author

Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York. He is the publisher of Fresh Day online magazine, author of On a Journey and two national newspaper columns. His website is Church Wellness – Morning Walk Media