Next week is going to be hard. It is going to be hard physically and mentally. You will think that you won’t get it all done.
You will worry about hymns and service sheets and people turning up and lists not finished and missed meals and whether you’ve ordered all the right supplies and if the candle will fit. You will worry about the words you’ve carefully crafted and whether they are good enough. You will worry that you won’t have time to fit in your family and shopping and caring for the sick and visiting the housebound. You will worry that the photocopier will run out of toner or break down or that your laptop will die or need to reboot at an inopportune moment. You will worry that you’ve forgotten something. Not something small that doesn’t really matter but something big, like your Easter sermon or whether you asked someone to bring a brazier with them for the Vigil.
You will worry that this won’t be the best Holy Week and Easter ever. You will worry that people won’t get your passion and be infected by it. You will worry that nobody will come. You will worry that your knees just won’t hold out for washing so many feet. You will worry that you just haven’t done enough. You will worry that you won’t have a clean clerical shirt by Thursday and no black trousers by Saturday.
You will worry that Jesus will die and nobody will care. You will worry that you didn’t start the preparations sooner when it was summer and the diary was empty. You will worry that you won’t find time to pray or to sleep. You will worry that someone dear will die. You will worry that the lilies won’t open in time and the daffodils won’t be out in abundance. You will worry that nobody will turn up to clean the church and make it gorgeous.
These things you will worry about.
I know you will worry about these things because I do every year. Every year my study piles up with discarded things until I can’t see the carpet or my desk or where my glasses are. Every year I go through these agonies and I toss and turn and wake up at 2am and watch the shopping channel and talk to the cat until I think I might sleep a little more before the dawn chorus begins. Every year it is the same. And every year it gets done. Maybe not perfectly, maybe not exactly as you’d hoped for, but it gets done.
And I happen to know that worrying about it helps not one jot. But I know that won’t stop you worrying because that’s what we do. We want the best for God. We want the best for our little flocks. And that’s why we worry. But the worrying makes us anxious and crotchety and ill and that really doesn’t help at all. If we cared for ourselves as much as we cared for our parishioners then we’d do just fine.
So care for yourselves, dear clergy friends. I am praying for you all today. I can’t see my desk for rubbish and the carpet is rapidly disappearing and I can feel a tension headache starting but… right now, at this very moment, I have paused to pray for you. For all of you. Know that you are loved and appreciated and that it will all happen. May God’s will be done.
Love and prayers