Somebody in every room is expected to know what to say. In a congregation it’s the rector, the senior warden, or whoever carries the most keys. When the news is bad (a death, a layoff, an uneasy vestry meeting), everyone looks to that person, who may, at that very moment, have the least idea what comes next.
I learned this in the fire service. People assume rank comes with answers, and sometimes the honest truth is that you’re working it out as you go. Sometimes, you’re winging it, doing the next right thing. Leadership doesn’t exempt you from being tense or tired or grieving. It means other people are watching how you work through it.
We rarely say the next part out loud: leaders need to be led, too. Too often they don’t ask for what they need. They go quiet, or stumble, or say “I don’t know,” and that’s usually when the rest of us feel let down. We can be cranky about it, or we can offer grace.
The best leaders I’ve known can say plainly, “I can’t do this one alone,” and they can name their blind spots before somebody else has to. A quick fix isn’t always the right answer to a hard moment. Doing nothing is a decision, too, and a bad one when the people around you are ready to help. Do the next right thing. When you can’t tell what that is, the next right thing is calling on the people who support you and asking them to point the way.
And be patient with your leaders. Even with the most impressive titles, they’re trying to adapt old skills and old answers to situations that don’t match anything they’ve faced before. Most would take a simple “What can I take off your plate?” over another casserole.
It’s okay not to have every answer, and most people already suspect as much. When you’re out of answers, say so, and tell us what you need. We can do something with that.