Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,
Anyone who has a Facebook account should know that one unstated goal of that benevolent overlord is to get the user addicted to collecting “reacts” (like, love, care, haha, wow, sad, mad).
Take, for instance, this post from Monday morning:
Three hundred and eight “reacts”! Impressive, eh? So addictive.
Part of the way Facebook enables this addiction is through its magical algorithms, which among other things serve up “Your memories on Facebook,” reminding one of old posts that got a lot of “reacts.” Occasionally, I’ll take the bait and re-post one, as I did a few days ago along with a commentary I wrote on a passage from the Gospel of John that’s been well received in the past by my (as of today) 3,289 “friends” and 593 “followers.” (The friend limit for a personal page, in case you were wondering, is 5,000. After that, Facebook recommends you create a “Public Figure” page. So by Facebook standards, I’m still a very private person.)
On Thursday morning, Facebook reminded me that five years ago, I posted a quote by Gerald W. Keucher, who wrote in Humble and Strong: Mutually Accountable Leadership in the Church, “Leaders must find ways of always being approachable so that those they lead can tell them the truth.” I very much believe this, which may be one reason why I have 3,289 friends and 593 followers on Facebook. (Ego has nothing to do with it, of course. I write this in all humility.)
In reflecting on that much-liked post, it occurred to me that there’s only so much anyone can do to make oneself approachable. Since the subtitle of that book makes clear that the author’s concern is fostering mutual accountability, I found myself wondering what responsibilities my parishioners and colleagues have when it comes to responding to my own attempts to convey that I am authentically approachable. Among other things, a specific type of courage is required: the courage to talk directly to me. I am always grateful to my parishioners and my staff members when they do, because it gives me an opportunity to thank them. I think this response surprises a lot of people, because they expect me to react badly.
In a very self-selective sampling, I’ve heard from a couple of parishioners that I’m doing well on this score. I keep encouraging emails and letters and cards to re-read when I’m discouraged or beating up on myself for what a poor priest (or husband, or father, or human being) I am. Here are a couple of examples. Once, a parishioner wrote, “I must say that you are a very unusual priest. In my experience, members of the clergy don’t like to be challenged, especially by lay folk! Whenever I have done so in the past, the reaction has usually been indignant, defensive or dismissive. (Not that this has ever deterred me. 😉).” Another wrote, “Though you have your own opinions about things, you accept influence…you’re inquisitive and a learner…you’re skilled at repairing relational rifts…you’re openly human and don’t pretend to be otherwise...you admit missteps and apologize.”
On the other hand, when I read these things, I always tell myself, “Don’t believe your own press.” Doubtless others have a more negative assessment, most of whom are probably inclined to keep that opinion to themselves, or only share it with other people who may or may not pass along that assessment to me. (Triangulation is a persistent challenge to clear and direct communication that parishioners, lay leaders, staff, and clergy all have to deal with as a fact of living in community.)
Further, I’m painfully aware that my sermons and Thurible letters could (do?) verge into a sort of passive-aggressive way of addressing conflicts I’m caught up in without actually speaking directly to the specific people concerned. My writing is how I process the challenges of ministry, and I hope I do so in a way that is transparent and helpful, but I could be deluding myself, even as I write this very sentence. Thankfully, I never entertain thoughts of self-doubt.
Believe it or not, I’m anxious when I write these things that people will think my congregation is really screwed up. But don’t worry: it’s not you, it’s me. You may think I’m being facetious, but I have to say I’m thrilled by how low-drama this parish has been. (I’ve probably jinxed myself. Thankfully, I’m never superstitious.)
Five paragraphs above, I wrote that when people share their concerns with me directly, I thank them. To be perfectly honest, this is true most of the time. Those times that I have reacted defensively or otherwise are always damaging to relationships, and I always come to regret them deeply, especially when there’s no apparent way to “fix” them. Inevitably, I end up confessing them to my spiritual director. It’s important for me to admit this because I am sure some of my readers can recall with vivid clarity behaviours of mine that I’ve conveniently forgotten. What can I say? I’m a work in progress, and I’m grateful for your love and prayers.
It should also be noted that I try not to thank people who just want to abuse me. One of the dictums I aim to live by is, “Never be available for abuse, but always be available for reconciliation.” You’ll hear a sermon on this someday, no doubt. “Like” it or not, it’s one of my homiletical chestnuts.
Yours in Christ’s service,
N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector
The Ritual Reason Why
The service booklet for the High Mass has undergone a redesign that is in its “beta testing” phase. Is the font too small? Are there other suggestions you would make to render the booklet more user-friendly? This version is subject to revision (and reversion to previous layout conventions), so your feedback over the next few weeks is most welcome.
The eventual goal is to have a booklet with all the parts of the service necessary for a newcomer completely unfamiliar with our traditions and musical settings to be able to participate fully without first learning how to be one of the “in crowd” that knows that “this is just the way we do things here.” The way we do things may indeed remain the same, but we are in the process of removing all barriers to full participation. Feel free to identify what’s missing. (We already know that some music graphics are still needed, for instance.)
Once we have a satisfactory template for the High Mass, the style and formatting changes will be applied across the board to all our liturgical publications. This will take some time, and we welcome your participation in this process as we aim to be as hospitable as possible to those who cross our threshold or join us via livestream.