I move toward conflict; I don’t flee. My penchant for steadfastness in conflict can’t even be brushed aside as naive, try as some might, because I’m just too old and seasoned for someone to say otherwise.
I speak at local Board of Education meetings in support of protections and rights for trans students. I am in the process of closing a dying church on behalf of my Presbytery. I address misconduct. I am a fiercely empathetic pastor, even when my personal reserves are low. I am a loyal friend. I raise good, stand-up-for-others kids.
And, when I was in the PC(USA) ordination process, I told the truth. In my home Presbytery, seeking to move from the ‘inquiry’ to the ‘candidate’ stage, I told the truth in the essay questions that the Committee on Preparation for Ministry (CPM) handed me. One question asked something like “What are the most important relationships in your life?” I wrote about many people, including my then boyfriend.
Members of the CPM called to tell me, “It sounds like you are having sex with him.” And, to “take that part out of the essay.” I declined to comment. I declined to “take that part out of the essay.” The CPM called another pastor with whom I was close and asked them to try to convince me. I said to every caller, “If I were married, you would expect me to write about that relationship.”
It was a hot day in Tennessee when my sweet liaison drove me out to the country church where the next Presbytery meeting was held. My mom bought me a new skirt suit for the occasion, and I was afraid I would sweat right through it. I needed to preach a sermon for the Presbytery that day, before they voted to move me to the ‘candidate’ stage of ordination.
The pastor of my childhood met us at the door. He was retired but still very active in the Presbytery and respected. He said, “We’re going to get this done today.”
I realized what he already knew: everyone in that hot, white, little sanctuary held in their hands two versions of my essay, stapled together, one with my partner and one without.
He took us to a back room where he looked the Presbytery moderator right in the eyes, and said his piece again, “We’re going to get this done today.”
And, we did. I preached a sermon about sexuality in every season of life. And, the only question I got was, “Is Jesus your Lord and Savior?” Either through good ol’ boy intimidation, or the movement of the Spirit, we got it done that day.
The church I serve, now, that I love and loves me, has already heard this story. There are many other stories to tell.
I need my childhood pastor now.
The larger, organized church which was offended by a brief mention of a man that wasn’t my husband, in a discernment essay, is now, in the middle of my pastoral career, making health insurance coverage for my husband, and our children, an optional benefit.
Which is it? Do you want me to be married? Or, not? Or married when it suits you, and unmarried when it doesn’t?
Or, do you want me to be married, when being single costs me–possibly my ordination? And, single, when being married costs you? Because a friend of mine is divorced, and his church is going to save money next year. (This is not an essay about divorce. This friend also finds me empathic and loyal.)
Financial decisions are never just about money. How we allocate our funds is always an expression of our values. Always. What does Jesus say? “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
If I had trained and entered another field, in which I also would have been successful, law, engineering, business, healthcare, counseling, or even larger non-profit management, I would be making a much larger salary at this point in my career. The argument that this–optional medical benefits– is how insurance coverage is handled in the corporate, or “real” world does not hold water. My salary is not at a corporate or “real” world level. As a PC(USA) pastor, medical insurance coverage for my family is a benefit I count on. And, are we not trying to show forth an alternative, even, the Kingdom of God?
If the Board of Pensions’ decision to make medical benefits optional is in any way motivated by an urge to make pastoral leadership more financially accessible to struggling churches, so that they may stay alive, is that not a question of mission? And, not markets? And, shouldn’t that decision be made by the General Assembly and not the Board of Pensions?
Some recent articles about PC(USA) pastors’ medical benefits reference a time, 30 years ago, when changes were also considered, but ultimately not made. It does not surprise me, now, when the needle has moved and the majority of pastors under 40 are women, that now is the time that pastors’ benefits for their partners and families are made optional, and many churches are priced out, and benefits are cut or eliminated.
Why can I not be the breadwinner for my family, that my male predecessors were for their families?
Hiring practices in the PC(USA) are already discriminatory–our own surveys have shown us that. Making essential benefits optional for churches will only exasperate the unequal compensation and unequal opportunities that female pastors suffer.
The larger church has always looked at me–and seen, first, not my tremendous power for ministry, but my gender and my sexuality and my “sexual partners”–and wondered how much they’re going to cost them.
Sarah J. Cairatti is a pastor living in Whippany, New Jersey. She loves creative ministry, the town pool, writing, and spending time with her family outdoors. She occasionally posts to her blog: twocoppercoinsblog.wordpress.com
The writers of Unbound represent their own opinions and views.
For more information about the Board of Pensions and its decisions:
Presbyterian Outlook Board of Pensions Article
Presbyterian News Service Board of Pensions Article
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