Justin Welby, the leader of the Church of England, has revealed the most stressful job he has done was as a parish priest, and that clergy need to be better supported.
The Archbishop of Canterbury made the remarks during a debate on clergy wellbeing where he described his time as a parish priest as “insatiably demanding” and isolating.
He attributed loneliness to a lack of close colleagues and also warned that Clergy in London and Manchester would suffer mentally for many years to come after dealing with the aftermath of terrorist attacks.
Parish churches have been central to the community response to traumatic events this year, but what does it really feel like to devote your time to a religious role in the modern age?
One could not blame Reverend Iain Macdonald for experiencing similar feelings of stress and seclusion caused by his post on Westray, as the Island just off Orkney has a population of 600 people.
Reverend Macdonald also makes trips by boat, and occasionally via plane on famously the world’s shortest flight to Papa Westray, where only 80 people reside and he oversees both parishes.
The islands have actually experienced something of a turnaround in recent years, however, with a population surge partly attributed to an improvement in facilities and strong community life.
Having spent 24 years in his role, Reverend Macdonald who is married with two grown up children, expected to spend “a few years” on the job before potentially returning to Edinburgh,
Originally from Glasgow, his accent is still every bit intact and previous to religious life, he was involved with securing record deals as part of the management team for Runrig.
He still enjoys their music and believes his old job was far more stressful than his current role, and he cannot imagine leaving Westray any time soon.
His fast Glaswegian tang oozes with passion not just for his vocation but for the people who have enabled him to make Westray his home.
REVEREND IAIN MACDONALD: “YOU CAN NEVER BE LONELY HERE”
I don’t want to disrespect Justin’s comments and I can understand where he’s coming from, but I feel incredibly lucky to be here. From the moment I came to visit Westray, I was just bowled over by the place and the people.
My daughter has returned to Orkney as a nurse while my son is in Stirling, I really have my wife, Jo, to thank for the fact that we came here at all. She had to give up her work for this, I was considering positions in Edinburgh at the same time as Westray.
We weighed it up for days on end before realising that half the reason we were attracted to Edinburgh was because of the place, we both loved Edinburgh. I used to be a press officer for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and although I enjoyed the job it was far more stressful than being a minister in some ways.
Once we let go of location we realised we could go anywhere, and the congregation at Westray was amazing.
I’m still here 24 years later and I honestly can’t see myself leaving, I love it here.
I think there’s this misconception that people living in Westray are living on the edge and sucking straws, but this is an incredibly forward thinking community.
I was overwhelmed by people’s enthusiasm from the moment I stepped foot on the island.
It didn’t come to me in a blinding flash that I wanted to be a minister, it wasn’t like the road to Damascus. I think it was more a sense of vocation, much as a nurse or a teacher would experience.
I still have to pinch myself that I’m doing this role, community underpins everything here and you don’t have much choice but to be a community minister.
Had I tried a different way, people would have seen right through me because there are no airs and graces here,
I’m expected to roll up my sleeves just like everyone else. There are pastoral responsibilities and of course admin responsibilities, form filling that everyone hates but it seems to be creeping in to every job.
The people of Westray work exceptionally well together, partly because we have no choice due to location.
I speak to other ministers who are dashing between funerals and very often they don’t know the person.
That just wouldn’t happen in Westray – even if the person didn’t come to church I’d still know their family and the ins and outs of their life. I think that’s the real plus side of my role, I am able to give my time to people in quite intense circumstances and I’m not overwhelmed by sheer population.
That doesn’t mean my job is any less busy, there is an expectation here that I will be on hand for any personal crisis.
Of course things can play on mind – I am acutely aware of who is in debt, who is struggling with addiction or experiencing marital issues.
But I consider it a privilege that I am very much involved in people’s lives.
There’s an element of the goldfish bowl here, you never have anonymity but that has enabled me to make very close friends who in turn help me cope with the stress of the job.
I don’t think the ministry can claim the monopoly when it comes to stress, but I personally have been very lucky. Westray is a community where you leave your door unlocked and your keys in the ignition, children grow up very trusting here.
I honestly adore my job, Westray is home
FATHER PETER MACDONALD: “I STILL CONSIDER MYSELF A MARRIED MAN”
It has been a year since Father Peter Macdonald arrived at Our Lady and St John the Baptist RC Church in Ellon, and he is still putting the finishing touches to his living quarters.
Family pictures are dotted around the living room and Father Macdonald chats happily about his life prior to becoming a priest.
With four children and six grandchildren, he happily admits he is a “wee bit unusual” as priests are not allowed to marry.
Although there is no tell-tale mark on his ring finger, Father MacDonald still considers himself to be married man and his wedding ring has been incopororated to the stem of his chalice which he uses to celebrate mass.
His wife, Bernadette, passed away six years ago, just days after the couple’s 39th wedding anniversary.
Father Macdonald already held the role of permanent deacon when he decided to become a priest with the support of his family, and he had no desire to find love again.
Alongside his role in the parish he is also a prison chaplain having previously attended as chaplain at HMP Peterhead, which at the time was a national facility used to hold male sex offenders serving long-term prison sentences.
He believes the Catholic church in particular is faced with many difficulties, but he has no regrets about his life-changing decision.
I hope Bernadette would be happy with my choice, I was already heavily involved with the church but I wasn’t baptised until I was 25 years old. Her death was a big shock and very unexpected but I knew I had no interest in marrying again, so the celibate side of priesthood didn’t bother me.
I’ve been lucky enough to have a great parish and the community has been so helpful, but I certainly see where Justin is coming from.
Of course there are difficult times and there are moments which can be very intense.
In some ways, my experience as a father with four children means I can understand what families are going through – particularly through my work as chaplain for the maternity hospital in Aberdeen.
Our first grandchild was stillborn so I can identify with the overwhelming grief.
I take communion to the sick and housebound and hear confessions, I suppose you could say the work I do is a bit like a package.
I’ll never forget my first mass, I stood there having only had four hours of mass practise and I was rather nervous.
I think the principal role of a priest has not changed, although there is less formality these days. The dynamics between a priest and the parish is different in comparison to that of a deacon, and it can be more intense.
There are many situations which aren’t easy to deal with but I see myself as a servant to the parish.
On Friday’s I’m the Catholic Prison chaplain for HMP Grampian, so I help prisoners celebrate mass but I’m also there to provide help to whoever needs it.
I never even considered prison chaplaincy originally and it’s not everybody’s cup of tea. It can be very difficult because you’re not just dealing with the prisoner but the impact their sentence is having on their family.
Only three people have told me that they aren’t guilty but my response is always the same, it doesn’t matter to me if they are innocent or guilty. I think the day you start judging them, however, that’s when you realise you should throw in the towel.
God does not stop at the gates of prison, and although it’s a very intense role I am still there to help.
There are stressful times as a priest, for example if someone in your parish is very ill and my job is to try to make things just that tiny bit better and provide comfort where I can.
Long hours and emotional situations can be draining but you have to get on with things.
You might not always like people, but you must love them and make yourself available to anybody.
Justin Welby, the leader of the Church of England, has revealed the most stressful job he has done was as a parish priest, and that clergy need to be better supported.
The Archbishop of Canterbury made the remarks during a debate on clergy wellbeing where he described his time as a parish priest as “insatiably demanding” and isolating.
He attributed loneliness to a lack of close colleagues and also warned that Clergy in London and Manchester would suffer mentally for many years to come after dealing with the aftermath of terrorist attacks.
Parish churches have been central to the community response to traumatic events this year, but what does it really feel like to devote your time to a religious role in the modern age?
One could not blame Reverend Iain Macdonald for experiencing similar feelings of stress and seclusion caused by his post on Westray, as the Island just off Orkney has a population of 600 people.
Reverend Macdonald also makes trips by boat, and occasionally via plane on famously the world’s shortest flight to Papa Westray, where only 80 people reside and he oversees both parishes.
The islands have actually experienced something of a turnaround in recent years however, with a population surge partly attributed to an improvement in facilities and strong community life.
Having spent 24 years in his role, Reverend Macdonald who is married with two grown up children, expected to spend “a few years” on the job before potentially returning to Edinburgh,
Originally from Glasgow, his accent is still every bit intact and previous to religious life, he was involved with securing record deals as part of the management team for Runrig.
He still enjoys their music and believes his old job was far more stressful than his current role, and he cannot imagine leaving Westray any time soon.
His fast Glaswegian tang oozes with passion not just for his vocation but for the people who have enabled him to make Westray his home.
REVEREND IAIN MACDONALD: “YOU CAN NEVER BE LONELY HERE”
I don’t want to disrespect Justin’s comments and I can understand where he’s coming from, but I feel incredibly lucky to be here. From the moment I came to visit Westray, I was just bowled over by the place and the people.
My daughter has returned to Orkney as a nurse whilst my son is in Stirling, I really have my wife, Jo, to thank for the fact that we came here at all. She had to give up her work for this, I was considering positions in Edinburgh at the same time as Westray.
We weighed it up for days on end before realising that half the reason we were attracted to Edinburgh was because of the place, we both loved Edinburgh. I used to be a press officer for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and although I enjoyed the job it was far more stressful than being a minister in some ways.
Once we let go of location we realised we could go anywhere, and the congregation at Westray was amazing.
I’m still here 24 years later and I honestly can’t see myself leaving, I love it here.
I think there’s this misconception that people living in Westray are living on the edge and sucking straws, but this is an incredibly forward thinking community.
I was overwhelmed by people’s enthusiasm from the moment I stepped foot on the island.
It didn’t come to me in a blinding flash that I wanted to be a minister, it wasn’t like the road to Damascus. I think it was more a sense of vocation, much as a nurse or a teacher would experience.
I still have to pinch myself that I’m doing this role, community underpins everything here and you don’t have much choice but to be a community minister.
Had I tried a different way, people would have seen right through me because there are no airs and graces here,
I’m expected to roll up my sleeves just like everyone else. There are pastoral responsibilities and of course admin responsibilities, form filling that everyone hates but it seems to be creeping in to every job.
The people of Westray work exceptionally well together, partly because we have no choice due to location.
I speak to other ministers who are dashing between funerals and very often they don’t know the person.
That just wouldn’t happen in Westray – even if the person didn’t come to church I’d still know their family and the ins and outs of their life. I think that’s the real plus side of my role, I am able to give my time to people in quite intense circumstances and I’m not overwhelmed by sheer population.
That doesn’t mean my job is any less busy, there is an expectation here that I will be on hand for any personal crisis.
Of course things can play on mind – I am acutely aware of who is in debt, who is struggling with addiction or experiencing marital issues.
But I consider it a privilege that I am very much involved in people’s lives.
There’s an element of the goldfish bowl here, you never have anonymity but that has enabled me to make very close friends who in turn help me cope with the stress of the job.
I don’t think the ministry can claim the monopoly when it comes to stress, but I personally have been very lucky. Westray is a community where you leave your door unlocked and your keys in the ignition, children grow up very trusting here.
I honestly adore my job, Westray is home
FATHER PETER MACDONALD: “I STILL CONSIDER MYSELF A MARRIED MAN”
It has been a year since Father Peter Macdonald arrived at Our Lady and St John the Baptist RC Church in Ellon, and he is still putting the finishing touches to his living quarters.
Family pictures are dotted around the living room and Father Macdonald chats happily about his life prior to becoming a priest.
With four children and six grandchildren, he happily admits he is a “wee bit unusual” as priests are not allowed to marry.
Although there is no tell-tale mark on his ring finger, Father MacDonald still considers himself to be married man and his wedding ring has been incopororated to the stem of his chalice which he uses to celebrate mass.
His wife, Bernadette, passed away six years ago, just days after the couple’s 39th wedding anniversary.
Father Macdonald already held the role of permanent deacon when he decided to become a priest with the support of his family, and he had no desire to find love again.
Alongside his role in the parish he is also a prison chaplain having previously attended as chaplain at HMP Peterhead, which at the time was a national facility used to hold male sex offenders serving long-term prison sentences.
He believes the Catholic church in particular is faced with many difficulties, but he has no regrets about his life-changing decision.
I hope Bernadette would be happy with my choice, I was already heavily involved with the church but I wasn’t baptised until I was 25 years old. Her death was a big shock and very unexpected but I knew I had no interest in marrying again, so the celibate side of priesthood didn’t bother me.
I’ve been lucky enough to have a great parish and the community has been so helpful, but I certainly see where Justin is coming from.
Of course there are difficult times and there are moments which can be very intense.
In some ways, my experience as a father with four children means I can understand what families are going through – particularly through my work as chaplain for the maternity hospital in Aberdeen.
Our first grandchild was stillborn so I can identify with the overwhelming grief.
I take communion to the sick and housebound and hear confessions, I suppose you could say the work I do is a bit like a package.
I’ll never forget my first mass, I stood there having only had four hours of mass practise and I was rather nervous.
I think the principal role of a priest has not changed, although there is less formality these days. The dynamics between a priest and the parish is different in comparison to that of a deacon, and it can be more intense.
There are many situations which aren’t easy to deal with but I see myself as a servant to the parish.
On Friday’s I’m the Catholic Prison chaplain for HMP Grampian, so I help prisoners celebrate mass but I’m also there to provide help to whoever needs it.
I never even considered prison chaplaincy originally and it’s not everybody’s cup of tea. It can be very difficult because you’re not just dealing with the prisoner but the impact their sentence is having on their family.
Only three people have told me that they aren’t guilty but my response is always the same, it doesn’t matter to me if they are innocent or guilty. I think the day you start judging them however, that’s when you realise you should throw in the towel.
God does not stop at the gates of prison, and although it’s a very intense role I am still there to help.
There are stressful times as a priest, for example if someone in your parish is very ill and my job is to try and make things just that tiny bit better and provide comfort where I can.
Long hours and emotional situations can be draining but you have to get on with things.
You might not always like people but you must love them and make yourself available to anybody.