A Path to Belonging

Overcoming Clergy Loneliness

Mary Kay DuChene, Mark Sundby

• Publisher: Fortress Press
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781506473819
• eBook ISBN: 9781506473826
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Ministry

Loneliness, or the feeling of being cut off from others, is an epidemic among people in America. Studies have shown that up to half of Americans are lonely. While some may think that clergy have a strong built-in community, this is not often the case. According to leadership development consultants Mary Kay DuChene and Mark Sundby, clergy are as lonely as the general population.

In A Path to Belonging: Overcoming Clergy Loneliness, DuChene and Sundby argue that clergy need to address their experience of loneliness. First, loneliness can interfere with leadership effectiveness. Second, it offers a ministry opportunity to connect with people around the topic of loneliness. But clergy must first deal with their own loneliness and begin to experience the healing balm of social connection.

Each chapter begins with a case study that illustrates an aspect of clergy loneliness. DuChene and Sundby draw on original research on loneliness among clergy across denominations, first administering the state-of-the-art inventory to measure loneliness and then following up with qualitative interviews. They also draw on years of experience working directly with clergy and congregations. The authors then offer tools and remedies for the path toward a healthy sense of contentment and belonging. The book also explores what judicatory leaders, congregations, and friends and family of clergy can do to support clergy.

By normalizing and reframing loneliness, however, A Path to Belonging not only suggests ways to overcome the loneliness present in ministry. DuChene and Sundby propose an even larger vision: Perhaps clergy can also help the congregations they serve become social connectors in their communities and thereby begin to solve the epidemic of loneliness in the United States.

Part I

The Epidemic of Loneliness

We aren’t the first people to write about loneliness. It has already been named an epidemic, and that was before the Covid-19 pandemic sent people into their houses for months on end. Clergy are just as lonely as the general population and more so in one particular way.

In part 1 of this book, we explore what loneliness is and reflect on the current state of loneliness and isolation in the United States. We then discuss the particular plight of clergy. The message to clergy here is that you aren’t alone. There is nothing wrong with you. The fact is, the unique role clergy hold tends to isolate us. Please know there is hope—that comes in part 2 of the book.

1

What Is Loneliness?

Loneliness is like an iceberg—it goes deeper than we can see.

—John T. Cacioppo, Loneliness

But Ruth said, “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”

—Ruth 1:16

Judy was a middle-aged second-career pastor who answered her call to ministry after fifteen years in a fast-paced, rough-and-tumble corporate environment. In addition to the relief of finally saying yes to ministry, which she rightly perceived would give her a greater sense of day-to-day meaning as she finally lived into the call she had sensed for so long, Judy looked forward to establishing deep, emotionally rich relationships with her parishioners. And in one sense, she did experience that. She was invited into the sacred moments of parishioners’ lives, including births, marriages, and deaths. On the other hand, though, she was surprised to find herself on the outside looking in—something she hadn’t thought about experiencing as she began the process of becoming a pastor. As much as she wanted to be part of their inner circle of friends and family, she was “pastor,” and clergy tended to stay, on average, about three years in this small community. People welcomed clergy but kept them at arm’s length when it came to casual socializing. As a result, Judy was surprised to discover how lonely ministry actually felt in comparison to the corporate world.

For Reflection

• • To what parts of Judy’s story do you relate?
• • When you began ministry, what were your expectations about being in relationship with parishioners? With the community?

We humans have an intense, innate need for social connection. It is actually wired into us as part of our survival strategy. Historically, tribes were communities formed for the protection of the whole and the propagation of the species. Without others, our ancient ancestors would literally have perished as a species. When one became separated from the tribe, they would be in potential danger. So natural selection developed a biological response to that disconnection that today we call loneliness.

Clergy have a built-in community through our congregations, a network of people through which to make friends. But just because we are in a helping profession and have a built-in network doesn’t mean we aren’t lonely. In our (Mary Kay’s and Mark’s) work with clergy, we’ve discovered that ministry can be a very lonely profession.

As clergy, many of us have encountered the dynamic of being lonely while in the company of others. Like Judy in the opening story experienced, we find loneliness can feel more intense if we are with a group of people but kept on the margins for friendship and socializing. On the one hand, we are “set apart” for the work of ministry, as we’re called to live our lives differently than most, “to be in the world but not of this world.” On the other hand, this aspect of our calling can contribute to a profound experience of being cut off or left out. Friendship is one-sided, if it is present at all, as we can never fully share our most vulnerable selves with congregation members.

If we are experiencing emotional pain, we may also choose to self-isolate to protect ourselves, which can further fuel our loneliness. When I (Mary Kay) was going through a divorce, colleagues knew that when I didn’t have my children, they could find me in my office late at night working. I didn’t want to be alone in my house, and throwing myself into my work was a perfect distraction, but I also felt shame around the divorce and didn’t want to talk about it with others. It was a very lonely time. A colleague and friend, who was single too, came in late one night and, during our conversation, said, “I’d rather be lonely and alone than lonely and with someone.” It gave me pause, then I had to agree.

As suggested previously, at its core, loneliness is a biological signal to find deeper connection. John Cacioppo, a pioneering researcher in the psychology of loneliness, conceptualized it as akin to hunger pangs or yawns.1 Our stomachs growl; we find food. We yawn, and we recognize that we’re tired and seek rest. Our feelings of loneliness are meant to be a signal too. When we’re lonely, our evolutionary past is telling us to proactively seek out social connection within our tribe for both our physical (safety) and our mental health.

While this important biological signal was a life-or-death reaction for our ancestors who became separated from their tribe, loneliness continues to function as a stress response. When we’re lonely, our bodies release an abundance of hormones, such as epinephrine, to cause our systems to go on high alert. The endocrine system is activated and releases cortisol, which increases blood pressure and releases blood sugars. Like most stress responses, however, it’s helpful in small doses but can become problematic when chronic. While life-preserving in an emergency, this anxiety-producing systemic response is not sustainable for the long term, such as in cases of chronic loneliness. Over time, overfunctioning systems induce cardiovascular stress and inflammation, damaging tissues and blood vessels and increasing the risk of heart disease and other chronic illnesses. What’s more, this bodily response causes poor sleep patterns, which in and of itself is a physical and mental health risk factor.

When we feel the pangs of loneliness and our biological systems kick in, our bodies have a couple natural responses. The first is to seek out social support—to reconnect with the tribe. But interestingly, many of us do the opposite and withdraw when our stress is related to loneliness.

Another natural response is to go on high alert; that is, we misread other people’s behavior and interpret it negatively. We begin to misread social situations, telling ourselves stories that may be incorrect. When friends haven’t called, we think, “They don’t like me.” When we walk into a party feeling awkward, we don’t know where to turn or who to talk to, so instead of reaching out for the social connection we need, we withdraw. This self-critical thinking causes us to withdraw further, which can accelerate into a downward spiral, resulting in even greater withdrawal and loneliness.2

We humans have this intense need for social connection, and like an immune system that rejects an artificial organ, the biological response of loneliness can backfire on us. We withdraw rather than reach out because we’ve misinterpreted the situation. Making assumptions about what other people are thinking never does us any good, and comparing our social situation to others’ also does us no favors because we each have a different level of need for social connection.

Genetic Predisposition and Social Connection

We have all had conversations debating nature versus nurture on everyday topics like “Why is my child good at running?” or more abstract questions like “Are leaders born or made?” The answer in a lot of debates is “Yes!” There is almost always a both/and explanation. The same is true with respect to our desire for social connection.

A genetic component appears to underlie our desire for relationships, and scientists are beginning to identify specific genes that determine our set point for sociability. As we know from our daily experiences in ministry and in our personal lives, some people desire more social interactions and others want fewer. We all know people who from infancy and early childhood were either more or less socially inclined. Biological predisposition likely plays a role in our desire for social interaction, and yet when our interactions fail to rise to the level of our biological need, our susceptibility to loneliness increases. This predisposition is not the same as when we, as ministers, talk about our preference for introversion versus extraversion. I (Mary Kay) am an introvert, and yet I deeply need social connection. The way I meet that need may look different from the way my extroverted friends do, but the need is there.

Similar to other characteristics, though, loneliness involves more than biology. So we propose a social connection formula, which in addition to genetics includes culture (our environment) and social cognition (our interpretation of our social situation). The formula is

genetic predisposition + culture + social cognition =

our experience of belonging/loneliness

This formula explains both satisfaction with relationships as well as our feelings of loneliness when relationships are lacking.

Consider, for example, Joe, a youth minister who grew up with numerous friends in his hometown and found more friends in college. At age thirty-three, he was serving in a small town in Texas and felt isolated. He had felt passionate about youth ministry for the first several years, and he enjoyed coming to know almost everyone in his rural community. We are enculturated to believe what “normal” social connection looks like, however, and now Joe had begun to experience some stirrings of loneliness. Friends and siblings were starting to marry, and people were asking if he was serious about anyone. These events only reminded him of how lonely he felt. Joe confessed, “I want to be with someone—and with all my friends and siblings getting married, I’m worried that my chance has passed me by.”

The social connection formula helps us understand Joe’s loneliness. His lifelong enjoyment of people would point to a genetic predisposition of a deeper need for connection, and his environment, or culture, is telling him it would be developmentally appropriate—in fact, expected—that he be “serious” about someone at his age. Joe’s thoughts, or social cognition, tell him to be on high alert, as his opportunity for a committed, intimate relationship might unwittingly pass him by. All of these factors together have contributed to his deepening loneliness.

The Culture Connection

Rugged individualism is a core value we have seen at work since the founding of our country. Many people emigrated from Europe seeking to escape the limitations of the “Old World” and to pursue the opportunities of the “New World.” Coming to this continent, some of which later became the United States, held the promise of a metaphorical release from bondage for people who felt oppressed or marginalized, and the myth of anyone being able to make their own way if they just work hard enough was born, as was a system of meritocracy. Alexis de Tocqueville was a Frenchman who toured the United States in the early 1800s and wrote a classic work on the American character called Democracy in America.3 He was impressed by the centrality of rugged individualism in the American psyche. Rather prophetically, however, he warned that individualism needs a strong counterbalance of community-oriented values and habits, or else American society would experience fragmentation and social isolation.

In some ways, the founding American value of rugged individualism is a failed experiment. Every person for themselves has led to a culture of life as a zero-sum game, resulting in competition, power grabs, and a lack of compassion for one’s neighbors as well as the least of these. Sure, we each need to grow up to become individuated from those around us. That is what it means to develop one’s identity. However, we cannot be individuals outside of relationship. And regardless of your faith tradition, being in relationship—relationship with self, relationship with God, and relationship with our neighbors—is core to our spiritual journey. It appears the American value of rugged individualism, true to de Tocqueville’s prediction, has indeed fragmented and isolated us.

We have witnessed firsthand the deleterious impact of rugged individualism on people in ministry. In a focus group of male-identifying clergy, a pastor named Robert remarked, “Seventy-five percent of the time I feel completely ill-equipped for ministry.” Around the table, clergy nodded. Despite statistics documenting that the decline of churches in the United States is widespread, Robert had taken on the full weight of responsibility for his congregation’s drop in worship attendance, membership, and financial resources. Although Robert was surrounded by other pastors in the room who had similar struggles, he felt isolated and alone, as if his situation were unique. He had bought into the cultural myth of rugged individualism and thought that through his own effort and self-reliance, his ministry and church would be the exception to the rule. It was crushing for him to discover this was not so—and he blamed himself. Thankfully, as Robert vulnerably shared his experience, he relaxed, relief spread across his face, and all of those years of self-judgment began to ease. Robert gave the group a gift, as other pastors also started to let down their guards. Together they moved from individualism and isolation to sharing, connection, and mutual support.

Robert’s self-disclosure is remarkable given the cultural norm, especially for people who identify as male, to hide vulnerability both from themselves and others. According to Brené Brown, we live in a culture that tells us being vulnerable and tender shows weakness, for which our culture has little tolerance. In an interview with Work of the People, Brown suggests we have lost the capacity to hold space for pain and discomfort and suggests that the loss is due to an inability to sit with unpleasant feelings. We literally don’t know how to do that.4

In our work with clergy, we see this inability to sit in pain and discomfort play out with loneliness. Because loneliness has become stigmatized, we attach shame to it. And due to our shame, which is often beneath the surface of our loneliness, we avoid (or hide from others, and sometimes even from ourselves) our vulnerability and...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Part I. The Epidemic of Loneliness
• Part II. Paths to Belonging
• Part III. For Congregations, Denominations, and Judicatories
• Appendix: LeaderWise Clergy Loneliness Survey
• Notes
• Recommended Resources