During my years as a parish administrator one of the most difficult parts of the job centered around lines of reporting and accountability. I had been hired by the Rector, and while I and the other staff reported to her, there were twelve Vestry members who rotated over a three-year period, a treasurer, family ministry director, and my counterpart who ran Our Daily Bread, a hot-lunch program. All these people in staff and leadership roles felt they had some measure of control over how I spent my time. In addition, annual reviews were conducted by the personnel committee with input from the Rector, the congregation, and other members of staff. A member of the Vestry always sat on every parish committee.
Often this would result in conflicts; following the Rector’s instructions could conflict with a request from a parishioner or Vestry member, or there was insufficient time to complete a request. Sometimes it was simply a lack of communication, at others it was a difference of vision as to what was needed. After one particularly contentious event, the Rector and I sat down and drew up commonsense guidelines that protected the administrator’s time and character, and improved workflow and expectations regarding responsibilities and availability. For example, any member of the Vestry could ask for materials to be printed for a meeting, if request was sent at least five days before the materials were needed. Otherwise, it was the individual’s responsibility to make copies. We agreed that work requests, calendaring, restocking, or unlocking rooms were all inappropriate on Sundays when I was a parishioner. Every few months, the Rector would remind the congregation of this.
It wasn’t a perfect system; no system of governance can be. Irrespective of how workable a plan appears to be on paper, the moment you add people and implement it, things start to go awry. Some parts will work better than you imagined – we discovered various groups, like the groundskeepers, chose to meet on Monday because there was less activity in the parish. Some people were assiduous about deadlines, but others decided their last-minute requests could be accommodated because everyone else’s work would already have been processed. Occasionally someone would interpret the protocols in ways we never imagined at the beginning. However, this change provided the parish staff with recourse to a system of checks and balances with which to evaluate calls on their expertise and time and respond to other people in the course of their daily work. This is perhaps all we can realistically expect of corporate systems and behavioral guidelines.
Every time there is a shift of staff, especially in the government of a country, there is a period of uncertainty. For some of us this can be accompanied by fear, trepidation, and dismay, especially when a more outspoken, inexperienced, unknowledgeable, or flamboyant leader has been elected. Even a politician’s closest supporters may face the realization that there may be sweeping discrepancies between campaign promises, political actions, and established legal parameters. Whatever our political inclinations, we Christians have chosen a different path, one in which we hear the cries of the world and respond to the promptings of our conscience. As C. S. Lewis wrote in “Mere Christianity,” “The more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience will demand of you.” Christianity does not inure us to the pain and injustices of the world, rather it summons us to action, to take a stance to correct and alleviate wrongs as and how we are able. It wasn’t simple for Christ, and it isn’t simple for us. Christianity isn’t about daily happiness, as Lewis knew too well, “I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.” Our Baptismal vows take us beyond happiness, to love which “is more than an emotion, it is a decision.” In trying times our calling is to make decisions rooted in integrity and empathy, time and time again for as long as it takes so that each child of God knows that they are loved, that they matter, that they are seen and heard. Our calling rises above secular rulers and does not change with governments. We may need to regroup, to reconsider or adjust our focus as we adapt to new norms and find different approaches to our work, of seeking justice and seeing the face of Christ in every human being, but we can do it. Let us continue this week to shed Christ’s light into the world, through kindness, love, and thanksgiving.
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