Spending your Presbytera Points

 

I hate the bother of carrying ‘points cards’ with me to the store. Sure, when our kids were young and the budget was tight, I used to do the old-school saving trick of clipping coupons. Nowadays, my husband is usually the one who, with his persistent cheap streak, goes to the trouble of swiping those numerous cards at the grocery store or department store or gas station.

Occasionally if asked I will give a phone number to the cashier, in lieu of digging out a card which may or may not actually be in my bag somewhere. But then I forget all about the points. They build up and up, with me none the wiser. I rarely have anything I really want to cash them in for.

Life in the parish can earn the clergy wife points of a different kind. Mostly for keeping your mouth shut. Or at least, you can get docked points for not managing to keep your mouth shut. Call them presbytera points.

And every now and then you are going to come across an opportunity to spend the points. But there’s a catch—namely, that the time and effort it takes to build up the points is waaaaay out of proportion to how quickly they can be spent— and for how little they mostly purchase in return.

If you just make it a habit not to spend those points, ever, a day may come when you have a deeper reserve than you ever expected, to expend on something important. Or then again maybe not. Because maybe the program has changed and the points don’t get you as much any more.

Or you never do use them, and your chance to ever use them just expires when you move parishes or retire. With the former, of course, you can start all over earning points from scratch. But it’s okay, because there was never anything that was worth the trouble of cashing in the points.

And maybe once in a long number of years you will know there is something you must buy, some issue you cannot in good conscience remain silent about. So you spend the points, even to the very last one. And maybe they are enough to accomplish what was needed. And even if they weren’t, it had to be said. Even if you wonder afterward if all you did was cast pearls before swine.

So then you have no points left. But it’s okay, because you do not go to church for what points can get you. You go for the same reason you go to the grocery store every week, because you need to be fed, whether or not there is any points program to encourage you.

No-one else can tell you if or when to spend your points. I have saved for long years, and I have spent in one fell swoop without regret. But for my money, saving your presbytera points for a rainy day is the best plan.

Survive and Thrive:   How a mission grows into a full-fledged parish

All over North America, Orthodox missions start up every year.

And many also close after a disappointingly short period of time. Many others dwindle gradually or hobble along without ever getting much larger or doing more than Sunday liturgy, content to just have the main services from a part-time or retired priest, or even only occasional services from visiting clergy.

Every situation is different, the reasons for what we might call ‘failure to thrive’ many and varied. But there is essentially a single, overarching factor which is indispensable to the process of a mission parish not only surviving but growing into a thriving established parish. I will get to this further down.

I have spent several decades as a clergy wife in the same Orthodox parish. We grew from a tiny mission plant in the early days to a full-fledged parish that has a full time rector, full cycle of services, and a building of our own. We have known many other mission-planters in the Orthodox church, and indeed several have come from our own parish over the years. I can’t tell you exactly all of what may have gone right or wrong in all of those missions, but I can tell you something of the stages of growth using my own parish as a sort of case study.

When we first entered Orthodoxy, we were leaving behind our Protestant experience of clergy family life, giving up salary and pension plan, heading for the foreign shores of culture shock with our small children in tow. In those days there was no possibility of our joining an Orthodox parish as lay people before heading straight to seminary after several years in a Protestant pastorate. As we were about to head to Orthodox seminary, a kind mission priest took us under his wing and showed us the miracle that an English language Orthodox mission community could be. He told us: to start a mission, you need ten fanatically committed members.

It’s an interesting number. Presumably this means ten adults capable of supporting the mission with their time, tithes and talents. Traditionally, the number of adult males– and therefore families, and incomes– to form a Jewish synagogue was also ten. In theory, tithing on ten incomes should provide an income at the median level of the group for the clergyman. That’s where the ‘fanatical’ commitment comes in.

In reality, it doesn’t often happen that you can get those ten tithes. Ten adults don’t necessarily mean ten full time incomes, especially if the families have young children. If some of the members are retired and on limited income, that’s a smaller tithe, and they may not even be able to afford a full ten per cent. Sometimes people lose their jobs, too, or have unexpected large expenses, and can’t keep their original commitment to tithe. And truth be told, some members — often the wealthier ones– are too attached to their own money to tithe. Just ten incomes is a bit close to the line to safely ensure a liveable income for the clergy family without some other kind of help, until the parish membership grows larger. So the priest and/or his wife in a mission situation more often than not will be starting out by working outside the parish either full or at least part time. A mission grant from head office or donations from friendly people who care about the mission may help as well.

I found one set of Orthodox mission guidelines online that suggested a mere three families were the minimum to start a mission. The truth is, a mission is easy to start. What’s hard is for it to grow and thrive and come to maturity both numerically and spiritually.

I have sympathy for those who grumble about the stinginess of those parishioners who feel the priest can get by on working indefinitely at a secular job for the privilege of serving the mission. Or those who lament about the people who beckoned them to “come start a mission for us, we’ll be there!” only to find, once they had uprooted their families on faith, that the beckoners fail to ever actually show up; or worse still, former friends in the mission turn on the priest and his family in parish politics. I have seen these things happen to fellow mission clergy families. If you are considering starting a mission parish, think very hard about what cost you are willing to pay. What you are willing to risk if the mission fails to thrive. Starry eyes have no place in mission planting.

When I searched for Orthodox mission guidelines online, I couldn’t find much, from any jurisdiction. What I did find– or rather what I didn’t find– made my eyebrows rise. While there were suggestions about making sure you held lots of services, and getting the right equipment for the ‘temple’ (humble as the rented quarters may be), and even practical and useful things like encouraging tithing and making sure you get into a good location for people to find your services, there was no mention whatsoever about compensating the priest. No vision of the mission becoming a full-fledged parish by steps, and no plan for working toward the day when the priest and/or his wife would be spared working a 40 hour week in order to support themselves before they can even begin to see to the services, preaching, teaching, evangelism and pastoral needs of the mission.

These guidelines were obviously not written by a clergy wife.

The apostle Paul was a tentmaker, and that is how he supported himself on his missionary journeys. But St. Paul– who had no wife and children, making it easier to travel– did not stay to grow his ‘missions’ into ‘established parishes’. That was a job for the local elders/bishop. And what St. Paul says to St. Timothy, a local bishop, is “The elders who rule well are to be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching. For the Scripture says, “You shall not muzzle the ox while he is threshing,” and “The laborer is worthy of his wages.” When he says ‘double honor’, the apostle means not only should the priest not be hindered from making a living, not only should he receive a fair wage, he should receive ‘double’– not necessarily mathematically double, but in a spirit of generosity and yes, honor, for the work he does for the Lord’s flock.

When we first came to our tiny mission, the people offered a small stipend– the equivalent of less than a quarter salary at what was probably minimum wage in those days. My husband had to work full time to get the necessities of life for our family, commuting a long way to another low-wage job in the large metropolitan area. Because of this employment, he could not do anything but Sunday liturgy and Saturday vespers at first. Since the people were starting from scratch in those days without computer-generated music and online availability, the choir was not yet up to doing much else either. But he asked the flock for a commitment to raise his small stipend by about a third as soon as possible. They did so almost at once.

Even this still necessitated the full time job. But soon, with the help of God and our patron saints, we launched the next stage: moving into a larger rental place where we could leave our iconostasis and altar set up. More visible and more spacious, this attracted more members– both cradle Orthodox and inquirers who became Orthodox in our parish. And as the parish grew to fill the new rental space, my husband asked for the second time for a raise, this time big enough to let him drop his secular job hours to part time. Again the parish agreed. Now we were able to begin filling out the festal services.

Finally, my husband asked once more and for the final time for a raise, to enable him to be a full-time priest. There was a couple in the parish who balked at this. But the raise passed, the balkers left (having first tried and failed to get their way on some other issues) and within a few years we moved on to the next stage: purchase of our own building. The cycle of services was now quite full, and parishioners living in a cluster at some distance asked for regular study times at their homes. More people came, the choir grew, church school expanded, charitable ministries took shape. The whole time, Sunday has been a strong community time, with a pot luck meal after liturgy and time for children to play together while their parents chat, forming personal friendships. Our council works together with the priest, each using the gifts given them by God for the greater service of the parish community. To ensure continuity and balance, they draw men and women from various age groups, ethnic backgrounds, and professions, and rotate a variety of new and old members off and on council on a two year cycle, consulting who best to recruit for the upcoming needs.

And my husband has never again asked for a raise. In fact he has more than once objected to the council giving him one unasked. They don’t seem to pay attention.

So what is the indispensable factor in the process of moving from ‘mission’ to ‘full-fledged parish’? Tithing? A full-time paid priest? a building? Pacing yourself through the various stages? Sunday potlucks? Good council members?

None of these in isolation, and not in themselves, though they are indeed part of the process. The indispensable factor for ‘success’– for surviving and then thriving– is just this: both the priest and the people must be ALL IN.

Please don’t misunderstand– I do not claim every mission that ‘fails’ is the fault of the priest and his family. Nor is it always the fault of the flock either. I have seen several failures that were due to serious mistakes by priest or people, but sometimes there are outside factors that lead to the closing of a mission that once seemed so promising: an economic downturn, a shift in demographics, a health disaster in the priest’s family. In some small communities a mission can never expect to draw enough members to grow into what is normally considered full-fledged parish status, but will have a faithful priest who continues to serve, making his home there and not seeking greener pastures elsewhere. That is surviving, and may even lead ultimately to thriving, if the people, few though they be, seek to keep their church alive into the next generation.

For a mission like ours that started in a large metropolitan area and draws from surrounding suburbs as well, thriving has come from the patience to stick with it, the willingness to rise to the challenge at each stage in order to grow into the kind of parish we want our children and grandchildren to grow up in– a parish that is still at heart a mission, in that its reason for being is to reach out and bring others in to worship the Lord in an Orthodox manner. One must take the long view. In many denominations, the days of frequently transferring clergy are past, and they are returning to longer-term pastorates. This is of course due largely to the expense of moving clergy and their families, but it is a sort of blessing in disguise. A priest is the papa of a parish family. We have seen the havoc wreaked by divorce on families– why would we want to change our ‘church daddies’ every few years either? Especially in a mission parish, where not just the individuals but the community as a whole is growing from one stage of life to the next. The priest of a mission parish more than any other needs to have a father’s heart, unwilling to abandon his children if there is any other course of action.

As I said, it is easy to start a mission. When a priest is assigned to an already-established parish, he will face a different set of challenges, but he needn’t tackle more than one stage of parish life at a time. The people will need to adjust to him in regard to how he differs from their previous priest, for good or ill. The mission priest and his family, and the mission parish members need to look together beyond just getting started, lest they be like those in the parable who, having put hand to the plough, look backward. Or to be like those seeds in the Parable of the Sower– great excitement at the beginning of a new mission may cause sudden growth like fast-sprouting seeds, but then comes the heat of day, and priest and people both burn out from lack of patience and pacing.

First survive… and then, slowly, patiently, thrive. Priest and people all in it together. This is the story of my mission parish. We now prepare to move into yet another stage of our parish life, continuing what we are already doing, expanding our building, looking ahead to eventual retirement and the handing of the shepherd’s crook over to a new man, the people prepared to continue to be all in with their next priest and hoping he and his family will do the same. We pray that what we have built so far will last, and last, survive and thrive.

 

 

Prayer for Clergy Wives

Turned this up recently. I’m not sure where it first appeared online or if I have posted it before.

—————————————

+ Prayer for Clergy Wives +

O Almighty and Sovereign Father, who have said that in quietness and trust we would find our strength* and who have given strength to the wives of Your servants in every age, from Elizabeth the wife of Zechariah in ancient days to Matushka Olga of Alaska in our own:  bless Your handmaidens the clergy wives of Your Church, and fill them with Your joy.  As they wait upon You, renew their strength**, and defend them from all assaults of visible and invisible enemies.  Let them find refuge under the shelter of Your wings, that protected by Your love they may ever praise You.  Give them courage and perseverance that they may pass victoriously through this age and finally receive their reward in the age to come.  Grant this, O merciful Father, through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with You and the all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, we ascribe all might, majesty, dominion, and power, now and ever and unto ages of ages.  Amen.

*Isaiah 30:15 **Isaiah 40:31

 

Not Like Other Men

The other night we were watching an episode of the BBC period drama “Call the Midwife”, featuring a group of nurse-midwives serving in the 1950s in the impoverished docks area of London. One of the characters, Chummy, is invited to come back to work part-time after having a baby herself “…if you can find appropriate care for the baby, and of course if your husband is agreeable.” Chummy, a highly energetic woman, who is happiest with many projects on the go at one time, replies “Peter is always agreeable. He isn’t like other men.”

Certain denizens of the docks might disagree with Chummy’s estimation of her husband. That’s because the agreeable Peter is a policeman, part of the strong and long arm of the law. There are some things to which the agreeable Peter can never agree, and which he will fight with all of his heart, protecting the innocent and bringing those who would harm them to justice.

There is no conflict between these two sides of Sergeant Peter. Both together are what make him a good policeman and a good husband. I turned to my husband as we watched that scene and said “You are always agreeable too!”

But like the policeman, there are certain things the priest can’t agree to in the territory entrusted to him, and for that reason he sometimes comes up against people who find him not agreeable at all. I remember many years ago a fractious member (whom the bishop told us was part of a ‘clan of priest-eaters’!) who tried to force my husband to do what –she- wanted over a certain issue, rather than what he was leading the parish to do (and in which the other members were following him.) “Please work with me,” he said to her (very agreeably!) Her reply: “NOBODY can work with you, Father!”

NOBODY turned out to be only her own family, who thereupon left the parish, leaving the other members in peace to grow their church community, which is still a healthy, happy place today. Years later another person described my husband’s approach to such things as the ‘iron hand in the velvet glove’.

I am not at all like the energetic, Martha-like Chummy. But my clergy husband, like Policeman Peter, is both strong and agreeable, and trusts his presbytera to make her own way in life and in the community without squeezing into any one-size-fits-all role expectations. He is ‘not like other men’, but is that combination of strong and agreeable that the Christian man and church leader should be. I can only wish the same for all my fellow clergy wives.

A Recipe for Ruined Relationships

A parish community is kind of like a stew, sometimes. It can be in a good way, or maybe not such a good way. A pinch of salt at the right time in the cooking process makes the meal.

Shakespeare dramatized this in King Lear. Cordelia, the daughter who did not flatter Lear in the over-the-top way her sisters did, was banished; long after, in another identity unknown to Lear, she served up her wedding banquet without salt. Lear, as one of the guests, had an epiphany: back when Cordelia had told him she loved him ‘as meat loves salt’, she had really been saying that without him, she would lack life. This had sounded dull next to her sisters’ flowery praise of their father, but really it revealed her as the one who esteemed her father truly.

Because she loved him for himself, it must have been saddening for her to see him so lacking in self-esteem that he could not believe himself loved without the exaggerated, sickly-sweet reassurances. All of us love sweet words, of course. But like refined sugar in our diet, too much is not good for us. A little salt now and then, on the other hand, is a necessary part of our diet.

In relationships, like those in parishes, it certainly happens that people who fail to kiss up to the ‘king’ (whether the priest or lay leadership/in group) can find themselves banished or frozen out. But it seems to me that the opposite trouble is often more common, the self-appointed cooks running around with the salt box. We know how too many cooks can spoil the broth, as the saying goes. Some who see the folly of flattery turn to its opposite, criticism and judgement. Perhaps they think this is a salty antidote, but it only takes a pinch—and for all they know, perhaps before they invited themselves into the kitchen and started meddling, someone else has already put in a pinch. Or several someones.

These people believe you have to be cruel to be kind…. but they have forgotten the song in that other Shakespearean production, the teen movie based on Taming of the Shrew, 10 Things I Hate About You. “You have to be cruel to be kind….in the right measure.”

Whether you keep sticking a pinch in repeatedly or dump the whole box in at once comes to the same amount in the end, and too much salt results in the ruination of the stew…i.e., the conversation and maybe the whole relationship. And you have to throw it all out, wash the pot, go to the store for more ingredients, spend cash (if you haven’t wasted it all on the first batch) and start the process all over again. Salt-dumpers often make a mess in the parish ‘kitchen’, and don’t usually clean up or even get out of the way of others while they clean it up before trying to make stew again.

But perhaps the opposite of flattery, criticism, is not in fact the true ‘salt’ that is needed. It is interesting that while the sisters slathered on the sickeningly sweet praise, Cordelia did not counter with an equal and opposite ‘salty’ criticism. She talked simply about her own love for her father. In contrast to the honeyed flattery. Cordelia’s image of salt and meat is only a silent rebuke to her father’s appetite for flattery. Banished unfairly, she does not try to argue, explain, excuse or capitulate; much less does she turn and counter-attack or blame. In patience she makes her own way in life, and at last by actions dramatizes the true meaning of filial love in the saltless banquet, allowing her father to see and understand for himself.

Cordelia in her integrity neither criticized her father and sisters, nor pandered to his weakness by joining the flattery. A truly virtuous control of the tongue, a worthy example that would surely please the many holy fathers of the Church who hold this trait among the highest for the Christian.

 

Hugging the cactus: When the wrong people apologize

I once heard a story about a pastor who had to deal with a small explosion of the parishioner kind.

While meeting with the music ministry group, the pastor asked the music leader to do a particular piece of music in the service. For whatever reason, the music leader had what can only be described as a tantrum—HATED that piece of music! This response shocked and upset the other musicians at the meeting.

The pastor had to tell the music leader afterward that they needed to just apologize to the other musicians and do as he had asked about the music. But no apology was forthcoming, and the pastor received the advice of extreme humilty from a colleague: yes, that person gets upset for no reason– YOU be the big person to apologize even though you weren’t the one to do wrong, and they will settle down and everything will be all right.

The pastor had some doubts about this, but he wanted to be a humble person before God. So he apologized to the music leader.

Did this story end happily? Alas, no. The music leader made a classic passive-aggressive response: had the group perform the piece the pastor asked for, but did not rehearse them at it beforehand and did a terrible, terrible job. It reminds me of a Shel Silverstein children’s poem about doing the dishes in which “…if you drop them on the floor/maybe they won’t let you dry the dishes any more!”

As is often noted, the church is a spiritual hospital in which there are many people who are sick, body and soul. Parishes are full of people who have personality disorders, addictions and just plain stubborn, self-centered attitudes that cause chaos all around them. In fact, it can be even worse than that. As Scott Peck notes in his book People of the Lie , downright evil and psychopathic people are attracted to the church precisely because church people are inclined to want to believe the best of others. Our Christian faith teaches us not to judge others, and to forgive. That is one of the ways predators make their way into the church community.

In the Orthodox church we have a long tradition of monastic teaching about humility; how often we read stories where some spiritual abba says to his proteges something to the effect of Yes, I see that you are hurt by your brother’s behaviour; think instead of your own sins. This radical humility sometimes even takes the form of advice to the monk to be the one to beg forgiveness even when the other brother was in fact the one who wronged the first monk.

In the monastery, these things are under the supervision of the abbot, and the monks he advises are generally co-equal brothers with each other. But in the parish where we have children and other vulnerable people, the shepherds are particularly entrusted with the guardianship of the flock by the chief shepherd. If we remember the metaphor of the spiritual hospital, and Scott Peck’s observation about evil people who seek out the church (and even end up in prominent positions there!), we have to admit that sometimes it seems like the inmates are running the asylum. The faithful shepherds cannot allow this, however much they want to teach humility and a forgiving spirit to all their members and indeed to practice it themselves; there is a power differential between many of the members that cannot be ignored.

When wolves in sheep’s clothing, or even just sick and maddened sheep are in the parish doing harm to others, it is not the time to teach lessons of humility to those who are already ‘humble’ in the original sense, people without power like children.

The pastor in the story remarked ruefully after the incident that he had ‘hugged the cactus’ and would not do so again. This intriguing phrase comes from the recovery movement, and was famously used by Robert Downey in a plea to forgive fellow actor Mel Gibson for some terrible behaviour under the yoke of addiction, familiar to both of those men. It means to face one’s darkest self so as to come into the light—a process as uncomfortable as hugging a cactus. The pastor in the story used the phrase a little differently— though he had done nothing wrong, he acted with the same humillity as an addict seeking the road to recovery. The cactus he hugged just turned out to be a prickly parishioner.

The well meaning but undiscerning advice of the pastor’s colleague had an unfortunate effect that anyone familiar with the recovery movement will recognize: the problem person, like an addict, was vindicated and enabled by the undeserved apology of the humble pastor.

God loves the sick and prickly too. Some are only minor problems in the church, like the tantrumy music leader, while others are the kind the apostle Jude tells us we should pull from the fire ‘hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.’

For both the prickly sorts and for their neighbours who get painfully stuck by them, love means firmness—not enabling them. To everything there is a season, says the Preacher—and while we are protecting the innocent, it is a time to put our personal humility on the back burner.

Don’t worry– God will provide us with plenty of other opportunities to learn that virtue!

The Introverted Priest’s Wife

The following is a somewhat edited version of a reply I made to a private communication from a reader of this blog a couple of years ago whose husband was contemplating seminary:

Dear Introverted soon-to-be clergy wife,

I have complete sympathy for your introversion and the need to get home from church sooner than your husband wishes. I and some other clergy wives I know are very much in the same boat.

We are a one car family and live 20 minutes drive away from the church. If I truly need to go home I do, and he either calls me to come back and pick him up later or gets a lift from someone else. Or I make a run to the store for needed things  while he is seeing people who need to see him after church, and pick him up when he phones my cell.  When the kids were the right age, and I could see people were just blathering on at him about nothing much, I trained them to go up to daddy and flutter their eyelashes and ask to go home (I am not kidding!🙂  Parishioners love those cute kids and are willing to let the priest go, when they would not take the same thing from his wife!)

These may not be options for you at this time, but are worth remembering for the future…:-) . (If he gets a lift home from someone else, however, it must be arranged before you leave, and it must not be a female person!)

There is not only one way to be an effective church wife; your first priority is to do whatever you need to do in order to make your home a castle that he can come to, to be with you and your children when church is over.  You can’t do that if you are depleted by too much church yourself.

The social conversations that ‘never end’ do need to be reined in or he will find himself burning out very quickly, as he cannot tend to the needs of many parishioners (including his own family) when too much time is spent on the one person who happens to be talking to him at the moment.

Being a priest’s wife does NOT mean being a single mother or pseudo-widow. On the contrary, the priest’s family is meant to be a good example to all of the congregation, and in this era of broken and dysfunctional homes, they need to see how good he is at taking care of his own wife and children and respect the boundaries. But he and you together will need agree beforehand what those boundaries are;  and he will need to be the one to make clear pro-actively to the parish what those boundaries are. Remember– he picked YOU to marry before he got started on the seminary track! And remember that you and your kids are just as much parishioners as anyone else and just as much in need of the priest’s attention– in fact more so!

If you end up at a parish with a church house next door, this will simplify going home somewhat; but at this point it is more important that your husband understand and support your needs in this area and work with you to see that both of you agree how best to balance the church work with the family life.

I recommend you both read the book Boundaries by Cloud and Townsend. I understand this book has been used at some seminaries in preparing priests and their wives, and there are a number of related and specialized volumes such as Boundaries in Marriage.

It is important to deal with this before you get to seminary let alone to a parish assignment. My suggestions here may be useful, but ultimately only the two of you working together are going to be able sort this out so that it doesn’t come round to bite you later on. God bless and guide you on the road ahead!

– PresAnon