When It’s Time To Say Goodbye

The withdrawal by Joe Biden from the US presidential election campaign in late July was met with relief by many of his supporters, and probably by his family as well. Finally, he could stop trying to argue that he would still be a competent president aged 86, which he would have been at the end of a second term, if elected.

Nelson Mandela recognised the age-trap early and stepped down aged 78, even though he might have stayed president till he was 83. By contrast, Jacob Zuma would have been 87 at the end of his term if he had been elected in South Africa in May; and of course Robert Mugabe was still ruling Zimbabwe aged 93.

I was surprised when a Dutch Reformed minister I knew retired at age 65, even though he seemed relatively young and fit. Why, I wondered, had he stepped down? He pointed out that we often talk about responding to God’s call to step into a role, but we rarely stop to listen when God is calling us to step out of a role and make place for someone else. Such making way might be because of advancing age but it might also be about declining energy.

What happens in our Catholic tradition? We have, of course, the historic example of Pope Benedict XVI, who chose to step down in 2013 before he lost the capacity to do the job. In so doing, he set a precedent which Pope Francis has intimated he might follow, if circumstances should demand it.

But what of the many priests and bishops for whom age or capacity mean that they can no longer do the job well? Do we just need to keep them in roles for as long as we can, given the shortage of priests? What is the impact of this?

Age can take a toll

Age is, of course, not the only determinant of whether someone is able to carry out a role creditably. There are plenty of successful leaders who are advanced in years, and plenty of terrible ones who are young. Nevertheless, in all fields of work, age still plays an important factor. It can bring wisdom and useful experience — though neither of these qualities is guaranteed — and a certain gravitas.

But age also takes its toll on anyone in a stressful job, and even more so on the clergy when they do not have the support of wife and family to help them. So a priest who was brilliant and creative when he was appointed to a parish or to head a diocese might not be as full of ideas and energy after ten or 20 or even 30 years in the same job.

Our gerontocracy (“rule by the most senior”) means necessarily that we have leaders who were formed in a very different world to the one they face now. It is not just technology that has changed dramatically but also the relationship between Church and state, the mores and morals of society, and our understanding of science and social science.

There are some bishops and older priests who do keep abreast with what is happening in the world. But strangely it is not something that is demanded of them. The Catholic priesthood must be the only profession in South Africa that does not require its members to prove that they are engaged in ongoing formation. While I might have great respect for my 75-year-old doctor, I would be anxious if I thought that he had last studied medicine 50 years ago!

Will mistakes be fixed?

What is more, when one is too long in the same role there is also a risk that mistakes will not be corrected. It is very hard for any of us to change something we have set up since it means admitting that we got it wrong. If we are allowed to persist in a position for too many years, the mistakes get left for longer and the chance of remedying them gets harder.

The Catholic Church does have some built-in age-related caps. All bishops have to offer their resignation at the age of 75 (though some are asked to stay on longer, and some others should have left much earlier). Cardinals lose the right to elect a future pope once they turn 80. But we should not overlook the fact that 75 and 80 are already very advanced ages.

Moreover, we are expecting our bishops in their 70s to be not just spiritual leaders — they also have to be responsible for managing dozens of people, the integrity of finances, overseeing substantial investments, supervising vast holdings of land and buildings, working with secular and religious partners, among other responsibilities. This is equivalent to running a medium-sized business and there aren’t too many CEOs in their 70s.

The Anglican custom is that priests and bishops retire at 65. They can continue to serve the Church after retirement, but they are no longer expected to be the man (or woman) in charge. Catholic religious orders (and Methodist bishops) have an even clearer model to avoid burnout: they usually only appoint or elect a leader for a fixed number of years, typically six. After that, the “officer” goes back to being a “foot soldier”.

Quite apart from this being a great way of ensuring humility, there is an added advantage to such an approach. No process of appointment is perfect, but if a bad choice is made, the impact of this is at least contained.

Acting when it’s too late

Most parish priests do at least get moved on to give them and their parishioners the “breath of fresh air” that comes with a new appointment. Steps can also be taken to remove a bishop, but these are used very rarely and typically only when the problems are so glaringly obvious they can no longer be ignored (and not always even then). It is as if we know there is borer in the joists, but we hope that somehow it will go away; we take action only once the house has almost fallen down — because we don’t want to offend the borer!

Part of our problem is the model of leadership in which the man at the top has all the power. Imagine an alternative approach in which older priests and bishops are still able to be of service to the Church but without having to remain in charge of complex operations — and, indeed, the priest or bishop in charge automatically shared his leadership with others (including lay people) with the requisite skills and energy.

Even the most powerful CEOs have boards and auditors overseeing them, and they are held to account if something goes wrong. Again, this system is not perfect but it is better than having no oversight. Bishops do sometimes have advisors but it is completely up to them whether they listen to advice, or even to have advisors in the first place. Moreover, it takes great humility to voluntarily appoint as an advisor someone who knows more than you, and then allow them to tell you when you have messed up.

When this model goes spectacularly wrong, the consequences are all too visible, and there is usually much wringing of hands. But my fear is not the big failures. It is the everyday maladministration, the poor decision-making, the missed opportunities that go unnoticed. Sadly, this can be the impact of leaders who keep holding on to roles which they cannot perform well because they (and we) cannot imagine an alternative. Madiba, Benedict and Biden all had the humility to say goodbye when it was time. Are we willing to allow our Church leaders, when they are tired, to also step down with grace?

Published in the September 2024 issue of the Southern Cross magazine