Few of us want to admit it when we're burned out. Religious leaders are no different: They hope to keep growing in their faith, while helping church members with the whole spectrum of worldly burdens. Like lay people, ministers seek that elusive balance between serving others and taking care of their own human needs.
As people on both sides of the altar know, there are moments when everything piles up. The list of things demanding care appears huge.
"In this short time, I've become overwhelmed with what people entrust to me," said Father Bart Hutcherson, associate pastor at St. Catherine's Newman Center in Salt Lake City. "I have to take a break from it. I have to have somebody I can talk to."
Of course, his parishioners' struggles are shared in confidence, and Hutcherson doesn't talk about them with the other Newman priests. Instead he turns to a spiritual director, a minister outside the Newman Center.
"I can't be detached from the people I serve. And their deep issues begin to affect me as well," he said. "I have to process that."
Religious leaders across the denominations share another mode of "processing." This practice goes a long way toward rejuvenating them, so they're always urging their congregants to try it.
"I say morning and evening prayers. That helps me focus," said the Rev. Caryl Marsh, who is in her 12th year as rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Salt Lake City. "And I'll tell you what I've done recently: I don't need a lot of sleep, but I'm going to bed at a reasonable time, and I'm feeling a lot better for that."
Can it really be so simple? Of course not, since prayer time and eight hours' sleep often slip far down on the list of daily priorities — below the needs of the church.
"This way of life is pretty intense," said the Rev. Susan Armer, pastor of the Salt Lake Cathedral Church of St. Mark. The Episcopal diocese had a clergy support group. "But it has fallen by the wayside . . . it's a matter of us saying, 'Yes, I should do this, but I'm so busy, and I need time for myself, so what choices do I make?' "
We're in this together, added Rabbi Fred Wenger of Congregation Kol Ami in Salt Lake City. "We're in a partnership with God and community, and the other partners need to do their part." Wenger has been a rabbi for 32 years, 13 of those in Utah. He's seen colleagues cope with burnout. "But thank God I've been spared. . . . Part of it, too, is you can rely on your resources of faith to help you pull through."
"There are clergy support groups. Some are interfaith. But I don't belong to one," said Hutcherson. It's tough finding the time to attend meetings. But like the rest of humanity, priests work better when they've had a little rest. So Hutcherson tries to keep one day free each week, to have dinner with friends, go to the movies, even ski at Brighton. "And I try to get caught up on things like laundry," he said. That's one of those mundane needs ordination doesn't erase.
Hutcherson, 39, has been a Dominican priest for less than four years. He serves with Father Denis Reilly, who entered the Order of Preachers more than three decades ago.
The advice Reilly gives to younger priests: "You've got to take care of yourself. Nobody's going to come up and say you should take a day off." Tuesday was his breather — and he had four meetings scheduled with parishioners. "But in fairness, I have been away," he added. Reilly took a week's vacation earlier this month.
All too often, the Newman fathers take phone calls from people who say, "You're the first priest I got through to." Most Utah parishes have just one pastor, and when emergencies arise, it can take time to track him down.
"Usually it's a one-man show," said Reilly. Across the state, the Diocese of Salt Lake City has 47 parishes and 16 missions. Some pastors cover more than 100 miles in a weekend, to celebrate Mass in a handful of chapels.
"The priests here are heroic," said Reilly. Catholic clerics are supposed to retire at 70, "but virtually no one does. A lot of them are well beyond 70 and still working very hard . . . there are not a lot to take their place."
The Dominicans' Oakland, Calif., seminary has 42 men in formation for the priesthood. That's not many, considering the fact that those clerics will be spread over the western United States, where Catholic parishes are growing. Fortunately there's no shortage of energy among the people in the pews.
"In the outlying areas, there's no reason why lay people and deacons can't say Mass," said Hutcherson. "There is a reason to empower lay people to run religious ministries." He's doing just that in the Newman Center's youth program. "It's very important to me," Hutcherson said, "to have a good leadership program, so (lay people) can learn what it means to be a leader in the image of Jesus."
But even the most dedicated shepherd can benefit from a vacation. Enter the National Clergy Renewal Program funded by the Lilly Endowment, which granted some $2.7 million to 118 Christian congregations this year and will provide more in 2002. Grants averaging $15,000 help churches bring in a relief minister while their pastors take time away.
"Most of the sabbaticals turn out to be three months," said Lilly spokeswoman Gretchen Wolfram. Some pastors travel to a retreat center, begin writing books, or simply go camping with their families. "The congregation is part of the decision-making about what's going to happen when the pastor is gone. It's very much arm in arm," Wolfram added. Applications for next year's grants are due July 20; call 1-317-916-7302 or e-mail clergyrenewal@yahoo.com .
Don't be too daunted by the work load, Reilly tells young people considering a religious vocation. "It's a wonderful life," he said. "If you asked priests if they'd do it over again, I think the vast majority would say yes."
Marsh, of St. Paul's, had a career with Trans World Airlines before entering the priesthood. She finds this second vocation suits her far better. "I wouldn't want to do anything else, even when it seems to all get on top of me."
E-mail: durbani@desnews.com