Leaders Who Apologize

Post Author: Rev. Dr. Michelle Bodle

I’ve been thinking a lot of yearbooks – the ones with the flimsy covers that you likely received in elementary school. I’m thinking of the kind that would list what each person wanted to be when they grew up – as if your young   imagination could even begin to conceive of all of the possibilities before you in the world of vocation and calling. Every year, I would write either “doctor” or “lawyer,” never having “pastor” even come into my mind. Perhaps because I had never seen a female clergy person, perhaps because it wasn’t one of the acceptable answers, perhaps for another unknown reason. 

Thinking back on those elementary school yearbooks, I wish the question was less what you wanted to be when you grew up and more who you wanted to be when you grew up. Maybe that’s too nuanced for young children; honestly and maybe it’s too nuanced for adults. But I wish somewhere along the journey we would have had someone model for us what it means to ask more questions about character and less questions about vocation. Questions like: who do you want to be in moments of crisis? What brings you deep joy? How do you want to show up and share your passion with others?

As I approach my fifteenth year of professional ministry, I’ve been dwelling on that character piece. The best example I can give is to say that I want to be the type of leader who apologizes. Not that I want to be the type of leader who hurts people so I need to and must apologize, as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. (Though I recognize that I am human, which means that I will trip over words and step on people’s proverbial toes from time to time.) But when I do hurt others, I don’t want to be the type of leader that is all too often modeled around me:  the one who digs in their heels and tries to defend their behavior. Or, worse, the one who intentionally hurts people even more out of their own woundedness.  

Instead, I want to be a more rare leader – one who apologizes out of a place of sincere humility. Knowing that I don’t know everything and am still learning. Or even if I do know things that may have influenced my actions, decisions, or words, that such knowledge isn’t an excuse to dismiss other people’s feelings. 

I want to be the type of leader who can say “You’re right – I got that wrong. Can we try again?” I want to be the leader who can authentically live into the truth that God is God and I am not, and therefore I am fallible from time to time. In fact, I make mistakes just about every day. 

Recently we had a family facing eviction who visited our church. A few hours after the service, the mom started to text me about housing resources in my area, which are few and far between. I had already left the church building and was heading to my parents’ home, an hour away, as I did every Sunday evening into early Monday afternoon. I was spending time with my family and wasn’t working.  I consulted with a social worker in the congregation and sent the mom an extensive list of possible resources. But that wasn’t what the mother wanted: she wanted help paying for a hotel room. But by that point, I was an hour away. I knew I wouldn’t be back before the hotel’s check out time the next day.

Could I give all of the reasons that I couldn’t pay for the hotel room? Sure. I could have said that I’ve worked with that hotel before, and I know they won’t take payments online or over the phone. I could say that I wasn’t in town. I could say that I crunched the numbers and what the church had to offer would only pay for three days, at best. 

But I don’t want to be a pastor who gives excuses. So I apologized. For not being able to meet her need in that moment. 

In order to apologize, to truly apologize in ways that have people feeling heard and seen, I can’t follow up with a “But…,” or a “Let me tell you my side,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” True apologies come from a place of humility – which is perhaps why they are so rarely seen. Humility entails knowing my limits as a human being and as a pastor and holding those gently alongside of my strengths in a way that doesn’t seek to hide or defend, but instead to continue to grow and be transformed. We aren’t sure how to be both a leader and humble. 

And maybe that’s also why questions about character are harder to ask, both for kids and adults, than questions about vocation aspirations. Because we would need to acknowledge that we are still being formed and transformed. That we are a work in progress. We can teach kids the mechanics of apologizing, that is, the words to say, a lot easier than we can teach the heart and character behind an apology’s authenticity.

So in case no one has ever asked you today, fellow clergywomen, allow me to: what type of leader do you want to be? What is the character that is behind your vocation? And who do you want to be when you show up every day as “Pastor”?