what have I discovered about my new life since leaving ministry?

Asked by a younger colleague, "What's retirement REALLY like for you?" I came up with four responses:

+ First, I no longer live in the realm of anxiety: no church politics, no dread of being ambushed, no telephone terror. Others may know this dynamic in their work, too but many pastors have been squeezed into a life-style that Stanley Hauwerwas once described as "a becoming a quivering mass of availability." I learned strategies to find balance - including always screening my home phone calls - and regularly sought out spiritual direction and solitude. But the shifting expectations pastors bring to their office combined with the expectations so many church leaders and members impose upon their pastors can become exhausting. And demoralizing. I am not talking about pastoral emergencies within the cycle of life and death. Night or day, while those realities can be trying, they are part of the holy privilege of being companions with loved ones striving to be faithful. I have cherished those times - and will carry them with me beyond the grave with gratitude. No, what I am talking about is the willful disrespect that some leaders insist upon sharing. Or the mean-spirited way some speak to their pastors only to act stunned when their clergy defend themselves. Or the total lack of accountability for moral and ethical behavior in a congregation that renders the church a smarmy civic club or a burial society. I don't miss looking over my shoulder, trembling when the phone rings, or second -guessing carefully considered actions in any manner, shape or form.   

+ Second, I have been surprised to find some people still seeking me out for counsel. Mostly not those who were part of my former congregation but people I have met over the past forty years in ministry: former colleagues as well as young people now hitting middle age. In a culture that does not honor growing older, I have been surprised by how many people want/need a trusted elder outside their family to think through various life decisions. Probably once a month for the past year I have received phone calls or emails asking me to help out with what was once known as discernment. Not career counseling, therapy or coaching, but careful listening based upon trust and respect. This has been a quiet joy both because it affirms the integrity of previous relationships and because it affords me the chance to be helpful in a counter-cultural way. In a society that is so mobile and fast-paced we still need deep relationships.

+ Third, I am living in an ambiguous spirituality that is no longer moored in a faith community so I am having to rediscover which spiritual disciplines are nurturing - and I have only just begun.  As I have written elsewhere, in a small town where I was once very active and public, the options for church participation are limited. So far that's been ok as I have not really wanted to re-enter a formal discipline with another congregation. That will come in time, but it is refreshing to move at a much slower and freer pace on Sunday mornings. At the same time, because so much of my former life had been shaped by communal celebrations of the liturgical year, I now have to figure out how to maintain this cycle of prayer, feasting and fasting. Being connected to L'Arche Ottawa has been part of the answer as I can be with my new community during Advent and Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and Pentecost. I can also celebrate Eucharist in this community, too. But I am now learning to practice prayer as a solitary monk in a highly secular society - and I am just starting to figure this out.

+ And fourth, most weeks I have no idea what day of the week it is.  I know this sounds like a retirement cliché, but it is true. I had to create a hard copy calendar to know not only what liturgical season we were in but also what day of the week was taking place. Without the demands of an external community, my days are very quiet: I pray and read, I clean and do yard work, I play and practice music and periodically travel north to Ottawa. No one is asking me to stand and deliver anything so one day is filled with as much meaning and beauty as the next. I was stunned that this became true but find I enjoy it. This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Every day has become a quiet holy day.

Perhaps I should add that I have not experienced grief over the close of my life as a clergy person. My release and relief from anxiety and anguish is a blessing. My conversations as an elder are equally satisfying. Same, too for discovering a quiet life as a secular monk. Do I miss preaching? A little. Do I miss singing the songs of faith in community? Sometimes. But I have found a new context that is more life-giving for me to share in these joys. What is retirement REALLY like for me after nearly 40 years of caring for congregations as a pastor? It is quiet and tender and very small. That is to say, it is a blessing.