When Relationships Die

(resending with corrected text - apologies!)

I've been thinking a lot lately about loyalty, kindness and the death of relationships.

You know, light, airy thoughts.

My thoughts started while ago as I thought about the sheer volume of stories I hear about good friends in congregations that turned into enemies. Often, there is one incident that they can point to as the moment the relationship died. Most of the time, there is one person who is clear about the inciting incident, while the other is quite baffled as to exactly what when wrong.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this after seeing Othello at Shakespeare Theatre Company in Washington, DC. In this dark play, Othello is a military general, recently wed to the love of his life, Desdemona. Othello trusts his right hand man, Iago, because “a man he is of honesty and trust”. But Iago begins the play with a plan to take revenge for being passed over for a promotion. With sharp malice and great precision, Iago executes a plan to rid himself of his superior.

Iago is one of the sharpest and cruelest of Shakespeare's villains, and you would think that the situation is too extreme, too pointed to be real. Yet I have watched congregations and relationships die like this. In the play, Iago is upset that he gave so much to Othello – his loyalty, his sage counsel, his honesty – only to watch a younger man get a promotion Iago thought was his. And instead of talking to Othello about it, he destroys everyone – including himself.

In congregations it's often less drastic, with no body count (thank God), but you see the way a tiny incident gone unaddressed can destroy a relationship.

I’m reminded of Dorothy and Caroline (names changed, obvs), who were both long-term members of the same congregation; over the years they’d served as president, on various committees, taught religious education – they’d done it all. In a conversation with Dorothy, I learned about the seven-year span that she and Caroline hadn’t talked to one another because Caroline had done something she deemed terrible (about tablecloths, I think?), but at some point they forgot about it and while they still argue a lot, they’re talking again. In a conversation with Caroline, I learned about how she and Dorothy hadn’t talked for about seven years because Dorothy was apparently mad about something but Caroline didn’t really know what it was, except her faithful friend had changed. Now at some point they forgot about it, and while they still argue a lot, they’re mostly talking again and mostly not talking trash about each other. But when something contentious comes up in the congregation, you can bet Dorothy and Caroline are on opposite sides of the debate.

Sometimes it stays fairly calm. But sometimes the person who feels slighted takes it to others. They sow doubt about the other’s integrity and honesty in quiet comments. They subtly sabotage projects. They find weaknesses and exploit them, all the while becoming indispensable and shoring up their own reputation. And the person who has committed this unknown slight often thinks this person is honorable and honest.

Many years ago, I was embroiled in a situation like this, finding myself at the center of one woman's ire. She had decided, for reasons I cannot explain to this day, that I was mad at her for an inconsequential error that occurred at a show we produced, and that I was taking it out on her and targeting her with criticism and gossip in order to be rid of her. She’d talk to others who knew these things didn’t happen, but they’d tell me how they defended me while also defending her to me as trustworthy and honorable (and leading me to doubt my own recollections). Meanwhile, the people who defended me joined her list of people who were plotting against her, and soon she wove a conspiracy so deep, it exploded with an accusation that could have ruined a ministry.  

As I type this story out, I still can't quite believe it happened. The entire cause of was a slight hiccup that no one was at fault for; we know that carelessness or maliciousness does not have to exist for a mistake to happen. If she had talked to me, it would have saved us months of trouble. And it might have saved her from being removed from membership.

If Iago had talked to Othello, it would have saved their lives.

If Dorothy had talked to Caroline, I can only imagine what they could have built together.

Relationships die when people don't talk to one another.

Congregations grounded in covenant usually have agreements about how we are to be with one another, respect each other, honor each other, practice loving kindness with each other, be generous with each other. These covenantal agreements encourage people to talk to each other to mend what is wrong.

I don't know why we are so afraid to do so, but we are, and it's weird, because probably 80% of the time the person doesn't even remember the slight or the thing that went wrong but has already forgiven them or never even noticed it, and they do believe everyone is honorable and kind.

Y’all. When something makes you go ‘hmm’ – talk to each other. Be willing to say hey, are you mad at me? Or hey, this thing happened and I'm not feeling good about it. We have this unique opportunity to practice how to do this kind of work in our congregations so that we can be better people to our families and coworkers and communities.

Let's practice talking.

Now let’s shake off the heavy Shakespearean tragedy of it all and end with this related song by British comedy duo Flo & Joan: