Resurrecting Priesthood

Photo by John Englezos, 11 December 2024.

Trust in clergy has died.

Trust in clergy will rise.

Trust in clergy will come again.

This is a picture of me with my daughter on Wednesday night, moments after I had recommitted myself to serve as a priest in the Church.

I know, even the word “priest” has a cringe factor. It feels like root canal. It’s ‘ouchy,’ even to say it.

For some, it represents a corrupt and outdated system. For others, a word we ditched in favour of ‘pastor’ or ‘minister,’ because we didn’t want people to think of the clergy as having a closer connection to God than the rest of us. In this sense, we are all priests. True.

But let’s leave that discussion for the book it deserves. 

The point is, I want to invite you to step into this picture with me.

Here I am, deciding to put on the robes again, wear the title again, “priest” and represent a system that is responsible for, and continues to be responsible for, the worst kinds of harm that can be done to a human being.

Our congregation is small, and we know this is partly why. We don’t have the trust of the public anymore. I make no excuse for it, nor do I pretend I don’t wear a title that has been stained, when I stand in this position.

Here is my daughter. She is comforting me. Moments before this photo was taken, she was playing with another child at the back of the church. I was already planning the ice cream that would sweeten the fact that she had been dragged to a boring church service at 7pm at night. I didn’t expect her to want to be there or to be enjoying herself. I never expect anything of her, only that she be who she is, as she journeys within this picture she has been born into, in her own way.

But she ran to me and held me for the longest time, as if to say, “I know mum. I know how much courage this took, and you’ve got this.”

And I found myself receiving the ministry she was offering, and in turn, praying for her. I thanked God for bringing her into the world, and I blessed her to follow her own vocation, wherever it takes her, wholeheartedly. I stayed with her for minutes, and let everyone else wait. 

In this picture, there are also people all around us. Who are they? Some of them are probably wonderful, and some of them possibly aren’t safe. That’s the reality of the picture.

Behind us, a cross. Beneath it, a table.

I don’t have simple answers about how we rebuild trust and confidence in priestly leadership, but I think it looks something like this. Here I am, a victim-survivor, saying “yes” to stepping into the calling, putting on the robes. I am listening to a child, learning from her, whilst protecting her agency.

The ‘others’ are blurred for now. I don’t know them yet. I will never build a culture that says to my girl, or anyone else, “you have to trust all these people.” You do not.

Belonging is not built on unqualified trust and there is no such thing as blind faith. If you step into this space, you will see me, a human being, a mother and wife; a fellow-pilgrim on this journey. You will see a cross; a constant reminder that the pain in the world is very serious, and nobody knows this more than God. We must take our time to discern who we trust in relationship, and to take what is helpful, and leave what is not.

Sometimes we need to sit at the back, leave early, not talk to anyone. I’ve been there, no worries. Sometimes we need to run forward for a hug, and have our God hold us until we know who we are again. And I will be there, and I will witness this.

And if it’s too hard to look at the cross, or the Church and see any value, look at this ten-year-old girl. Look at her faith and her ministry. And don’t give up on her.

This photo was taken by my friend and artist, John Englezos, at my Induction as Vicar to Holy Trinity Anglican Church, Port Melbourne. It is shared with my daugher's permission.

I will be hanging out there on Mondays, Tuesdays and Sundays if you want to work across the desk from me, or grab a coffee. If you are interested in being part of a new monastic community holding space for healing and renewal, give me a shout,

Heather.