Ever had a wet knot to untie? Tie draw strings on a pair of swim trunks, get out for a good swim and pull the knot too tight, and it becomes such a small hard kernel it’s difficult to tell the strands of string apart. Tug here and there and concentrate until your shoulders are also knotted with tension, at some point surrender to the notion these swim shorts will permanently adorn your body… and collapse in exhaustion.
You keep thinking: if I just find the one loop, just a small portion of this knot and tug it the right way, everything will loosen up, the knot will dissolve. There’s a way to untie this thing and be naked and free.
Melodramatic? Maybe. But I’m guessing most of us have been confronted with a seemingly impossible knot to untie and know both the frustration of failure and the blessed relief when the knot comes loose.
I had some personal knots to untie and that’s one reason I decided to take a mini-sabbatical this month. I will be back at church starting this weekend, so I figured now would be a good time to evaluate what I did and did not do during this intentional slow-down.
I think I did start to loosen the knot of my grief and anger. I wept some and sat face-to-face with some hard memories. I went into the sabbatical with a somewhat short fuse. Maybe you experienced it interpersonally if we spent time together. If so my apologies. When I get sad I sometimes also get mad.
I don’t think I accomplished much distancing from some of the things causing me the most anxiety. I’m not sure I can. I’m increasingly despairing about climate change and how little we are doing to avert it. Just yesterday I read that the entire Midwest and south will be an extreme heat zone by 2050, with highs each summer of 125 degrees. My youngest son will be in his 40s in 2050.
I admitted to a neighbor this week how hard it is to be a radically progressive pastor of a progressive church in a deeply red state. Sometimes I feel very untethered and alone. I read this statement from the Lincoln Project about Liz Cheney’s defeat in Wyoming: “Tonight, the nation marks the end of the Republican Party. What remains shares the name and branding of the traditional GOP, but is in fact an authoritarian nationalist cult dedicated only to Donald Trump.” I think that’s true. And Arkansas is as beholden to that cult as Wyoming.
On sabbatical sometimes you set yourself idealistic visions you don’t accomplish. I did not learn how to unicycle but I did air up the tire.
Similarly, I didn’t design the front yard garden bed and path I intended to (it was so hot) but I did paint the bathroom and kitchen and installed new exterior lights on the house.
I think things break more often when you’re resting. Right now our fridge is on the fritz and our A/C went out. This is not disconnected from what a lot of people report when they retire, that they become more busy in retirement than during their working life.
Another thing I learned: “The median attendance size of of faith communities declined by 50% in 20 years from 138 in 2000 to 65 in pre-pandemic 2020.” –Scott Thumma (Hybrid Hope, 2022) I think all church leaders have to look that reality straight in the face and recognize that’s probably just the beginning of the numeric decline, and yet just look at what our church has done over that same period and what it continues to do. I’m committed to living the words of Dylan Thomas, I do not plan to go gently into that good night. I invite everyone reading this to help buck the trend.
Taking a sabbatical was/is really hard.1 I’m not entirely sure I recommend it. Not because I want to stay on sabbatical, but because I’m chomping at the bit to get back at it, and missed it. This is probably because a) there is a lot of good to do, and b) it’s hard work confronting our own inner demons.
I have a set of “shifts” I plan to implement as I re-enter parish life, but I’m going to keep those close in my personal journal for the time-being because I don’t really want to show up this weekend with the demeanor of “hey everybody I’m back let me tell you what we’re going to do now!” Either you’ll see what’s different or you won’t and the main thing will simply be “I love you and I missed everyone.”
Admittedly I took a month. A friend from the university who was on a six month sabbatical once said the feeling at one month is different from the feeling at six months. I can see how that could be.
I remember years ago when Tom was a physician and I owned a travel business in California. We flew to Cozumel for a week vacation - we barely had landed before we were talking about going home -too much to do - cannot just hang around here all week - nothing to do, etc etc. We decided to stay until the next day and the next day stretched into 7 days when we had packed our bags, minus our swimsuits because we were sitting in them in the pool until the very last minute when we had to head for the airport. How things had changed in a week - cannot imagine what 6 weeks or 6 months would be like. But we are glad you are coming back.
The first week of school - and it doesn't matter if no one in your family is in school - has powerful, season-changing energy. I think it's good timing for you to merge back into parish life. Welcome back!