The phone rang at lunchtime. One of the church officers, to say could I go round, as she wanted a word about something. I said I would go in half an hour, as I had something to finish first. I didn’t have anything to finish. I needed the half hour in order to get myself in to a frame of mind to go over and talk to her. I spent the time in an anxious, agitated state. My pulse was racing, my heart was pounding, I was distracted and unable to think clearly. Then I went round to see her. It was a trivial and day-to-day matter, and no problem. But I had instantly seen the thing as a crisis, as a challenge, as a confrontation.
Just over twelve months ago, another church officer and I had fixed to meet to discuss some routine business. When I got there, I found we were alone in the house and he told me that he didn’t want to discuss the matters we had arranged. What did he want? He wanted to tell me exactly what he thought of me and of my ministry. And let’s just say he hadn’t taken the trouble to get me round there to tell me what a good, hard-working fellow I was. I listened, and left. I came home, laid on the bed and thought. And thought. And this is a Myers Briggs ISTJ remember. If you know your theory, you know that we catastrophise like nobody’s business. When a crisis breaks it’s nothing less than the end of the world as we know it. If you’re lucky. I carried on thinking. And then I slept. And then I got up. And I got organized.
The next day, somehow, I had the presence of mind to do at least some of the things that you are advised to do when bullying takes place in the workplace. I wrote an account of what had taken place and what had been said. I wrote a response to each of the points he had made, as I remembered them. I sent him a copy of my account and asked him to go through it and respond to it. He refused to do that and denied it all, of course. I told my other church officers what had happened, and also my bishop, and sent the accounts to them too. In no time, he was saying that none of this had happened, or if it had, he had not meant it to sound like it did, or if it had sounded like that, that was my misinterpretation of what had happened. In other words, I was to blame. No action was taken against him. He still holds the same post on the church council. I have managed to get some sort of working relationship back, for the sake of the church, but I never meet him alone.
Most bullying support groups will tell you that bullying is about two things; projection, and control. I’m sure that’s true. But it doesn’t help me either to understand, or to cope, just because I know what was going on. I was bullied at school. I’d come round the corner in the playground, and there’d be three big kids waiting to knock me flying. I had my homework taken out of my bag and torn up and trampled in the dirt. It took me a long time to get over it. You may wonder why I ended up in one of the least understood, often barely tolerated, most commonly ridiculed professions. I don’t know. I used to walk through the streets of one city where I worked, and have to listen to catcalls and stupid comments from passers-by, including once, memorably, a man walking along holding his small child by the hand. One day a tradesman took the trouble to slow his van down as he was passing me, wound the window down and called out “More tea, vicar? Heh, heh, heh!” Why? Who knows. Projection and control.
Hey, I hear you say. Get a grip. Get real. You’re not facing martyrdom or something, like so many. True. But does that make it acceptable, mean that I have to put up with it? Because I’m damned if I’m going to.
Now, those childhood incidents come back to me. I’m very angry that my past can come back at me, all these years later. Now I’m standing at the church door saying goodbye and wondering which of these people is going to have a go and wag a finger in my face because of what I’VE done making changes to THEIR church, or because they didn’t know the hymns or the sound system isn’t working properly. Projection and control again. I’m very angry that this man can think that he can behave like that, and that I can do nothing to counter his behaviour. While I might accept pastorally that the need is with him, that this is because of some problem he is facing, in my heart I am simply furious that my trust is abused, my work rubbished, my good name impugned. I would like to hit him. I have said several times that I would try to explain what this Withdrawing, this Roar is all about. This is it.
A couple of weeks ago a priest not too far from here announced to his parish that he was leaving, and stated the reason; that it had become impossible for him to stay, because of a sustained campaign against him, which included phone calls, letters and emails, from a group within the congregation. These were not anonymous calls and letters. They were bold enough to put their names to stuff. Now he is leaving, and going to a parish a very long way from here. His wife was said to have had enough of the Church, but has gone with him. Presumably they have no choice, no alternative employment, no way of finding somewhere to live. I can’t see why they would continue otherwise. Perhaps their faith is stronger than mine.
The Society of Mary and Martha at Sheldon and a number of individual researchers and writers have done the Church a great service through their work on clergy stress and burnout. I believe there is a similar piece of work now waiting to be done on harassment and bullying in ministry. If I worked in a benefits office or a supermarket or a pub, there would be a sign over the bar or by my desk or on my till: “Our staff have the right work without the threat of verbal or physical abuse”. Ministers have no such protection. Most of our church members, and our bishops/ superintendents/ superiors, have no idea that this goes on. Most would never dream of doing this sort of thing to anyone. But some do.
Helping people to understand and to challenge this behaviour is really important. If you have been bullied in the workplace, get help. Take a look at this story from Australia. My experience is nowhere near as bad. But that doesn’t make it right or acceptable. What to do? This link is a good place to start.
Since all this happened to me, the Church of England has brought out a report "Dignity at Work" and guidelines, which contains some good stuff. Doesn't look like it helped my friend down the road though.
Friday, 21 November 2008
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3 comments:
It's comforting to realise some of we clergy have now reached the age when we can tell troublesome parishioners to "bugger off"
Good, brave post. Most interesting, and moving. I'd like to tell myself that your experience is rare but I know it isn't. I was once told (seriously!) that the reason that the Church of Scotland pension for ministers is quite good was that so many ministers don't reach pensionable age that there's more left in the pot for the few who do. Cheery, eh?
You might be interested in http://www.internetmonk.com/archive/david-hayward-the-naked-pastor-the-im-interview
Thanks. and thanks for the link. I think the most disappointing and depressing aspect of this whole thing is that the Church has to be shown by trade unions and voluntary organisations how to behave (and we have no evidence that it is being implemented yet). We should be setting the standards for the world to follow.
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