The Priest and Persona
One of the most damaging things about Christian ministry is the mask!
I am a priest and with that comes a sincere desire to help other priests navigate the ministerial journey. My vocation also brings a genuine desire to help others grow spiritually. At present, I’m in the final stages of my first doctorate. I’m writing a dissertation, and hopefully, a book informed by it. This article comes from that research. I hope it highlights some of my findings and those findings can be helpful to clergy and spiritual people in general.
One thing Christians do that is often damaging is hand their priest or minister a mask and say, “Here, we expect you to wear this.” They do not mean ill. They usually wish their pastor no harm. Yet many still have an unconscious persona that they expect the priest to wear. What the unconscious parishioner unknowingly says is, “This is what I expect you to look like, this is how I expect you to preach, and this is how I expect your family to act.” Of course, this applies to nearly any service-oriented role, but I think it causes ministers a particular hardship.
I have heard most people explain the mask as a “higher standard” to which they hold the priest. The congregants often expect the minister to met the projection and accept the mask without resistance. Failure to wear it often leads to what Jung would call projection of the personal shadow and thus judgment. What he means is if the priest does not wear the mask, the congregants will project their own guilt, shame, and personal issues on to the clergy. In other words, what we resist in others usually tells us a lot about ourselves.
Jungian Archetypes at work in faith communities.
Jung pioneered the work on archetypal psychology. I think it can be particularly helpful for modern spirituality. I’ll never forget an encounter I had with an archetypal persona of the priesthood. The year was 2010, and I was deployed to Afghanistan. I was, upon my entry into the military, the youngest chaplain on active duty. There wasn’t much I could do about that.
My battalion executive officer embarrassed me in front of a crowd of other officers. He said, “I don’t have much faith in you. Chaplains are supposed to be old, like your grandfather, who can offer advice. You’re too young for that.” It was hurtful, but I tried to play it off as just fun banter and save face in front of my colleagues.
Enter Jung’s archetype of the Wise Old Man.
The Wise Old Man serves as a spiritual guide and a giver of knowledge. The Wise Old Man can be a mask that we personally wear or one we expect of others in religious roles. We see the Wise Old Man often in the journeys of heroes in mythology and stories. He is there to accompany, serve, and offer wise advice. He never fails to be the bigger person and do the “right” thing.
What my old executive officer did not know, and what many Christians are unaware of, is they project this persona from their clergy. When we, as flawed humans, fail to meet the “higher standard” of the projection, we become the opposite of wise. We then receive the stigma of immature and uninitiated.
The problem with the priestly mask is that it leaves no room for the ambiguity of life. It is constraining, and it ignores the three-dimensional complexities that make us humans.
The Star Wars Archetype.
In my spiritual tradition, a new priest is “installed” into a church with a ritualistic ceremony. I vividly recall one of my installation ceremonies where the priest who preached the sermon directly confronted the persona in the congregation. He said, “Your measure as a parish will not be if you love Rian when he pleases you. Your measure as a parish will hinge on how you treat Rian when he disappoints you.”
I’ll take some liberty and paraphrase that priest. To put a pop culture spin on it, he said, “What you really want is Obi-Wan Kenobi. There are times when your priest can be that for you, but he is not, nor can he ever be reduced to the one-dimensional role of simple spiritual guide.”
He was right, Obi-Wan was an excellent guide for Luke in Star Wars. However, how would we feel if Obi-Wan disappointed us? Said another way, Obi-Wan could only be Obi-Wan to Luke because he failed his father, Anakin in the first place. Part of the growth process is learning to see others in three dimensions.
The real problem is when the priest, or any other person, becomes so identified with the mask that they can’t tell where the mask ends, and they begin.
A friend, a priest, came to my office sobbing. He walked in, sat down, and by his tears I could tell he was in a crisis. I stood up from the chair behind my desk and sat on the couch opposite him. Through his sobs, I heard him say, “I need to do confession with you. I need to confess that I am a failure.”
I was surprised because my friend was the definition of “non-anxious presence.” He was always calm, and he seemed to be in control of his emotions. So I asked him, “What’s wrong?” All he could say was, “I’m a failure and a fraud.”
I pressed the issue and said, “I’ll do confession with you, but you’re going to talk to me first.” He experienced what he termed a “moral failure.” (That term is quite elusive because it begs the question of who creates the moral in the first place? And why did your deity force you to agree to it? Anyway, that’s another post for another time…)
As my friend cried, I realized the problem.
He was so immeshed with the priestly persona that he was utterly undifferentiated from it. The mask consumed him.
He worked so hard to become Obi-Wan and when he failed he fell into existential crisis. His priestly persona only gave him room for a one-dimensional life.
After confession, I told him, “Brother, you are not defined by one small problem. You are not perfect; you will never be perfect. Now, forgive the god you thought you worshiped who judged you harshly and forgive that god’s people for forcing you into this mask. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”
Any spirituality that does not begin with mercy is not spirituality at all. A spirituality that begins and ends with “accountability” is just another telling of the mythology of The Man in the Iron Mask.
It’s important to note, the mask is not merely one archetypal persona.
It can be many. I’ve worn so many masks at times that I had no clue who I was beneath them all. The most attractive ones for clergy are The caregiver, the wounded child who seeks to please the father figure, the sage (previously discussed), the magician, and the hero.
This is not merely a spiritual approach to the ministry, but it also connects to all aspects of life, including relationships as well. I’ve watched spouses struggle because of a projected mask on their husband/wife, who is the pastor. I’ve sat with people in counseling sessions who never could please another person because the person held them to a one-dimensional ideal or forced them into a simplistic role.
The solution is to embrace a spirituality of compassion!
When we embrace compassion as a worldview, we allow others to be who they are. When we accept someone for who they are, flaws, complexities, and all, we can greet the real person with compassion. It takes awareness, mindfulness, and a lot of mercy to offer others the freedom to be themselves. If we are willing to accept that journey, then our souls can find independence and liberation.
I hint at this in my poem “Destiny.” Give it a read and tell me what you think.
The true self is not merely the “me.” It is the “me” that is permeated by the divine. We do not have to be afraid of our complex parts or the complexities in others, especially our priests and ministers. A compassionate spiritual approach encourages us to welcome all parts of the self but not to be defined by them. Jung saw conflicting feelings and experiences in the human psyche as a necessity for growth. When we engage the personas we place on ourselves and others; we allow the internal conflict to mold us into compassionate and loving people. And that is the goal of the spiritual life.
Compassion and mercy are the transformation agents to loving rightly and growing spiritually.
Peace, R+
Posted by Rian Adams
Young Spirituality
I love old things, especially old typewriters because they seem to have a certain “soul” that my Mac’s keyboard does not hold. I type a lot of my poetry on my typewriter from the early 1960s. This poem, young spirituality, is one of those.
This poem came to me in an instant while driving in Asheville North Carolina. I noticed a group of people holding signs and screaming with a megaphone on the evils of abortion and “liberalism.” Half a mile down the street was another group, this time marching in front of a government building under signs that spoke of the evils of government and the need for democratic socialism. Imagine this, both groups used bible verses on their signs to make their point.
That’s when it hit me; fundamentalism is the same disease no matter what side of the American congressional aisle we choose to fall.
One of my favorite quotes by Carl Jung is, “What we repress in the self comes out in the world as an event.” I think that’s true of religious fundamentalism. So often the soul simply fights and resists itself and takes it out on the world around it.
This is clear to me in all brands of religious fundamentalism. Christians (and many other religions too) have projected their personal issues on bible verses and use those verses to prop up their own fundamentalism.
To me the truth is simple, my grand idea is this: God loves us, we’re supposed to love ourselves and others. Those are the simple rules.
Those who have a constant need to resist something are often resisting themselves under the guise of spirituality.
Speak up, take a stand, help the downtrodden and those in need of dignity, but leave the results to God while you work out your own salvation too.
The Poetry of Rian Adams: Follow Your Soul
Each time I ponder the idea of the human Soul I’m not able to escape the spiritual context because to recognize soul is to admit something beyond the brain.
In Christian spirituality, the concept of original sin has permeated western thought for centuries. The oversimplified version says that a literal Adam sinned, in a literal garden, thus every human born after Adam is infected with sin. This idea goes further and says that God will judge every human born based on their sinfulness. This sinfulness is inherent in their nature.
For more see the Catholic Encyclopedia on the subject.
The Soul, not sin, is our guide.
This poem expresses my disagreement with this idea. The deepest spiritual desires of a person is where one finds the soul. Thomas Moore says, “It is only through mystery and madness that the soul is revealed.”
Perhaps the perfect poet, Rumi, said it best: “Our wounds are the places where light can enter.”
I’m convinced the awakened heart/soul can serve as our guide because it speaks to our current context. While we can appreciate ancient moralities and sacred writings, I believe the best guide is God’s presence inside of us. Jesus said we should follow two, and only two rules: Love God and love those around you. I think this is enough because it opens the door to hearing all the depths of the self-accepting self and others as they are.
I’ll conclude with some inspiration from J. Phillip Newel. He writes that original sin “teaches that what is deepest in us is opposed to God rather than of God. It means that we are essentially ignorant rather than bearers of light, that we are essentially ugly rather than made in the image of love. . . It is a doctrine that disempowers us. . . The consequences, both individually and collectively, have been disastrous.”
