There are institutions which appear to be infected with a sepsis which passes from generation to generation without much diagnosis or inclination to amendment.  For example, there was a little church not far from where I grew up which seemed to regurgitate its pastoral leadership every year or two.  One preacher after another would be warmly welcomed by the flock, only to flee to presumptive “higher ground” before the paint in the manse had fully dried.  Or so it seemed. When I asked my Presbyterian elder/father what was going on, he simply answered, “Those folks don’t know how to get along with one another, so how can you expect them to get along with a preacher?”

I reckon we’ve all seen churches like that, beset by the germ of ecclesiastical Legionnaire’s Disease which seems to be chronic if not genetic.  But the longer I live, the more I see evidence that this ailment is not confined to a congregation here or there on the religious landscape.  Other sorts of institutions are equally susceptible.  Here is a presbytery, or an annual conference, or even (God save the mark!) a denomination which cannot even agree to disagree in a seemly and productive manner.  Or here is a college or a seminary community which truly appears to take some sardonic pleasure in concocting a witches’ brew of disharmony and contentiousness.  And all the while the ingredients for institutional growth and progress -- yes, and even success -- are melted in a caldron of spite and malice.  In such places, cultures of interpersonal malignancy and subsequent institutional convulsion become at once a vicious cycle and a foregone conclusion.

So what’s a body to do?  What does a congregation, or a college, or a divinity school do to break the cycle of institutional negativity and disfunction?  How can it be decontaminated and restored to health and productiveness?  I’d suppose off-hand that each individual case has its own diagnosis, and (one would hope) its own prognosis as well.  I honestly don’t know.   But I do know this: there are certain basic and homely remedies which need to be applied before institutional health can be restored.  Here are a few over-the-counter prescriptions:

  1. Acknowledge that the problem exists. Duh.  But not duh.  There needs to be a broad-based consensus within the community that something is wrong, and moreover, that this is not the way we want to live our life together.  And further;
  2. Agree to be charitable but candid in making a diagnosis. This probably begins with a ground rule that life (in this community) is better for all concerned than the dismemberment or death of the community would be.  If so, it follows that civility is essential, and honesty is equally basic in addressing the issues.  But let’s try handling it in this order:  let’s work on establishing a trust level among us; then make our lists of symptoms and complaints.  We must be sure, at least in the early going, that we are equally sensitive to people and purposes in identifying the nature of our institutional lack of health.  And further;
  3. Try to establish consensus concerning a putative prognosis for “health” in the institution, not so much  in the present tense but, say, ten or twenty or thirty years down the road. What is it that members of the community hope for in our future perfect?   What are the points of agreement upon which we can build a common vision?  How can or even will we get there from here?

Well, if anyone has the wonder drug for “institutional legionnaire’s disease,” he obviously isn’t sitting in my library carrel on this bright June afternoon.  And I must admit that sometimes I think that, short of a few strategic retirements or funerals, it’s a mighty hard thing to see much progress in such matters.  But more frequently -- indeed almost all the time -- I feel as though we have an obligation to try to find a cure.

 

John W. Kuykendall is President and Thatcher professor of religion emeritus at Davidson College in Davidson, North Carolina. He is an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA).