we quit our church jobs because of an awful new minister and now there is drama
A reader writes:
My spouse and I have full-time jobs, but we are also both employees at a church as music staff. There is no HR, since it’s a small operation, and we never realized what a problem this was until now because the last minister was a dream to work with. (Most churches don’t have HR teams, which seems crazy to me, since there are so many ways authority can be abused in these types of organizations.)
Our current supervisor is the interim minister, Mel. They are the acting senior minister for two years while the church conducts a search for the new long-term minister. We are one year in, but it was only around month two that I wondered why the search committee settled on this person — they have only served as an assistant minister (and not a senior minister) so they don’t have management experience. On top of that, they are a micromanager, extremely rigid about how there is only one “right” way to do things, and have an extremely low emotional IQ. They also, for some reason, seem to have it in for my spouse (as well as other people of the same gender). My spouse has been accused of not showing up to work, subjected to personal insults disguised as “help,” and had responsibilities and decisions previously under their purview removed … while also being scolded for not doing enough.
Conversely, Mel LOVES — or at least loved — me. I was lavished with compliments for the smallest actions, my ideas have been taken seriously and weighed into their decisions, and I’ve been asked for hugs on top of receiving winks and blown kisses. (We are the same gender.) While my spouse was being told they weren’t doing enough, Mel was telling me that it was fine that I hadn’t completed some of the same tasks that my spouse was accused of neglecting. Mel wanted to be sure I didn’t “suffer any burnout” and that if necessary, I could have a paid sabbatical (for my .18 FTE position). They said my work and the way I interacted with congregants was so outstanding that they would “do whatever it took to keep me working here.”
The disparity in the way we were treated was so overt that congregants commented on it. Every demeaning action that seemed designed to put my spouse in his place jabbed at him, but each incident in a vacuum seemed too petty for anyone else to take seriously unless they would listen long enough to realize this was a pattern of behavior rather than isolated incidents. Things came to a head when my spouse asked Mel point blank if they were making a case to fire them. Mel refused to answer and became so angry that they told my spouse to leave and not talk to them again until they returned from a trip. (Only to text afterward and said they were sorry for “needing to end the meeting early since they were tired and didn’t have sufficient bandwidth.”)
The board chair didn’t want to make a judgement so professional mediation was scheduled. I was invited to the final session, as the mediators felt my relationship with Mel needed repair as well after I voiced concern for how my spouse was being treated. I have never felt so gaslit or observed so much manipulation in my life as at this meeting. Mel told bald-faced lies, deliberately emphasized the wrong parts of my point, and put so many words in my mouth. They also rewrote history from the previous mediations that I didn’t attend, when even the mediator’s AI summaries (culled from a transcription app) confirmed the minister’s inconsistencies. Mel didn’t take kindly to my responding to their denials and lies with facts and printouts of their emails, and now only has contempt — or worse, very phony pleasantness — for me.
My spouse and I had a long discussion and decided to quit. We have worked at this church for 14 years and have many friends and chosen family in this community. We do high quality work and love these jobs. But as much as we wanted to keep working there, we wanted to not work for Mel even more, although their assignment will be up in a year. We just couldn’t be treated this badly anymore. We submitted letters of resignation, and after hearing nothing from Mel and the board chair, yesterday we shared the news of our departure during the “joys and sorrows” portion of the church service, as leaving is a genuine sorrow for us. We didn’t give a reason then, as that didn’t seem appropriate for the middle of a service, and thought we were taking the high road by being vague.
Suddenly, everything started moving very fast. We had said we would stay until the end of the following month, unless our replacements were hired sooner than that. (Our employee handbook requested that we give one month’s notice.) We were then told our last day of work would be the end of this month. (They are still paying us through the following month.) We were told a reception will be held to celebrate us, which we don’t want because we don’t feel like celebrating and think a party makes it seem like everything is fine and dandy. This morning an insanely anodyne announcement of our resignations was emailed to the entire congregation by Mel. It suggested that we were leaving because our interests had changed and that we recognize the importance of “stepping away” from the congregation for several months to a year to allow them to grieve and adjust. (This is actually a requirement for departing ministers in this denomination, but it’s just a suggestion for musicians.)
The announcement was so sanitized that many people don’t believe it. Since we announced our resignations yesterday: an emergency board meeting was called (board members were asking if Mel contract for next year was already signed), we’ve received phone calls and emails asking what is happening and how people can help, at least one scathing email was sent to the board from a church member on how they aren’t supporting us more, and speculation is everywhere.
The problem is, the board chair now appears to be complicit with Mel. When someone guessed why we quit, the chair apparently became very angry, exclaiming, “That’s supposed to be CONFIDENTIAL.” When pressed by others, the chair reportedly said that 1) according to board policy, personnel matters are strictly confidential, end of story, and 2) the board doesn’t have the details for why personnel decide to leave. (If the chair really said this, it’s a lie. We emailed our letters of resignation to every board member.)
Why don’t we just tell everyone what happened? Or just leave and never look back? We have worked here for 14 years. Everything is wonderful except for the interim minister and the board chair. We have loved ones in this community who have babysat our special needs daughter, cried with when mutual friends passed away, and made so much music with. We once had a home invasion and the church paid for us to stay at a hotel for a week since we didn’t feel safe until our house had extra security measures. This place is our home … and there is a chance that maybe once Mel leaves in a year, the congregation would rehire us. So many people have expressed sadness and confusion at our leaving, and some have asked point blank if we would come back once Mel is gone. But if it looks like we’re running a smear campaign, trying to organize congregants to fight on our behalf by sharing our experiences, or if we’ve “betrayed confidentialities,” we could get in trouble with the church denomination’s professional organization for musicians and never work here again. We also worry that sharing our account of things may just look like we are creating drama.
Is there anything we can say to justify sharing why we resigned that would shut the board chair up? We worry that if we share what happened, Mel or the board chair will retaliate by reporting us to the professional org (which does include confidentiality as sacrosanct for church musicians) and/or convince the church we are unfit to work there again. There may be a very obvious answer here, but we are likely too tired/emotional/close to the situation to see it.
How you handle this needs to be heavily steeped in your understanding of your church’s politics (something I am not equipped to advise on), but my thoughts from a workplace perspective are:
If the professional organization for musicians in your denomination says you can’t share internal workings like this, then that’s a pretty final answer: you can’t share these details without risking being outed from or sanctioned by that org (or whatever consequences they have in place — and it would be useful to know what those are).
Even leaving that aside, though, if you share what happened, it will create more drama. So you’d have to decide whether that drama will serve you and the church itself better than leaving quietly. (Well, as quietly as you can at this point! Some of that has been taken out of your hands.)
You do have the option of just being discreet about the whole thing. You’ve already told the board why you resigned, and they can do what they want with that. When other church members ask what happened, you could say, “It was time for us to move on” or “The board has asked us to keep it confidential.” (The latter won’t tamp down drama AT ALL — if anything, it will create more speculation — but it’s accurate without violating the board chair’s demand.) When people ask how they can help, you can say, “That’s very kind of you, but nothing needs to be done.” You can also go back and tell the board chair that you’ve had multiple people contacting you out of concern, but you’re adhering to their request not to share what happened and, while you can’t control what other people are doing or saying, you want the board to know that you’re trying to be low-key about it all. If your goal is to give yourselves the best chances of being able to return to your jobs in a year if Mel is gone, this might be the way to go. (On the other hand, if they hire new music staff to replace you, those jobs might not be available in a year, so you should factor that in too.)
But if you can’t stomach that path, you also have the option of answering people honestly when they ask what happened! There’s an argument that it’s ultimately in the church’s long-term interests to have that info out there and not buried, even if it makes things painful and bumpier for everyone (you and your spouse included). You might decide that that’s the right thing to do, even if it makes it less likely you’ll be able to return once Mel is gone.
Either one of those seems like a viable option to me. It just depends on which path, and which set of consequences, you’re more willing to live with.
