A couple of weeks ago I wrapped up a three-session course on resilience in ministry with some fantastic clergywomen. We talked about the emotional labor that gets dumped on us by parishioners – bless their hearts – and the ways it siphons off both professional and personal joy. The question that popped into my mind was, “What do we need to refuse to care about more than our people do?” One of the participants anticipated that I was going to use the word “carry” instead of “care,” a leap that took us into rich discussion. Maybe we shouldn’t refuse to care. Maybe we can’t not care. But that doesn’t mean we have to carry all the worry and responsibility – especially around this emotional work – that others offer us.
I can care that you’re in conflict with another church member without inserting myself into the conflict.
I can care that your feelings were hurt by not being nominated for a lay leadership role while remaining clear that the decision was a good one.
I can care that you don’t think I visited you often enough in the hospital without doubting my intentionality around how I spend my ministry time.
I can care that you heard my sermon in a way I did not intend and still trust that the Spirit did its work in and through me.
Caring vs. carrying all boils down to the hard work of self-differentiation: here is where you end and I begin. When we are clear about our strengths, purpose, and role, we can begin to crawl out from the weight of others’ expectations while remaining connected to the people around us.
What burden do you need to lay down?