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314 of 342 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Sometimes It's Good to Leave Church
To thousands of readers, Barbara Brown Taylor is best known as a writer of resources for the ordained (Home By Another Way; The Seeds of Heaven; etc.). Her books have become a staple in the mainline Protestant clergy diet, like casseroles or Frederick Buechner. Clergy will find multitudes in this new book, as well. Just as Buechner's memoirs helped clergy twenty years...
Published on June 19, 2006 by Jon M. Sweeney

155 of 172 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars Missing a Sense of Call
I have enjoyed Barbara Brown Taylor's essays in The Christian Century and there is no question that she is a talented and descriptive writer. This book is a pleasant (and quick) read largely because her prose flows so beautifully.

On the other hand, I had some issues with this book. As someone who is also ordained (United Methodist), I know firsthand the...
Published on September 26, 2006 by Bob Kaylor

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314 of 342 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Sometimes It's Good to Leave Church, June 19, 2006
Jon M. Sweeney (Ann Arbor, MI, USA) - See all my reviews
To thousands of readers, Barbara Brown Taylor is best known as a writer of resources for the ordained (Home By Another Way; The Seeds of Heaven; etc.). Her books have become a staple in the mainline Protestant clergy diet, like casseroles or Frederick Buechner. Clergy will find multitudes in this new book, as well. Just as Buechner's memoirs helped clergy twenty years ago, Barbara Brown Taylor's will, today. Clergy will understand when she tells what she's thinking and how she's scrutinizing while administering communion (p. 34), or as she movingly describes what it felt like to be ordained a priest (p. 43). Her descriptions of unease and insecurity in the role will speak most profoundly to fellow clergy, but also to anyone who has counted a priest, pastor, or deacon, a friend.

On the other hand, Leaving Church is too limiting of a title for Taylor's new memoir. I hope that the phrase will not keep those in the pews, or even those who left the church long ago, from reading it. A quote from William Faulkner opens Part One of the book, and would do well to open every memoir: "The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself."

The simple facts are these: Baptized Catholic, she wanders in and out of a few Protestant denominations. Drawn to a life of divine importance during high school in the sixties, she attends Yale Divinity School in the seventies on a scholarship; is among the first women ordained in the Episcopal Church USA a few years later; serves a large church in Atlanta (All Saints') for a decade as one of several clergy; seeks and finds a rural parish to lead on her own (Grace-Calvary in Clarkesville, GA); and after several years, quits, exhausted, taking a job teaching religion to college undergraduates.

Part One, "Finding," begins with Taylor's desire (at age 40) to leave the large staff of that Atlanta congregation in search of a country life and parish. "The idea was to skip right over the suburbs and head for the countryside," she explains, as she and her husband take day-trips around northeast Georgia searching for a new life. Eventually, upon arriving in Clarkesville and finding the small Episcopal church there, she yearns so deeply for this new life that her yearning becomes a series of physical reactions to touching the church building itself: "I could feel the clenched muscle of my mind relax. My shoulders came down from around my ears. I shook out my arms and put my hands flat on the side of the church." (p. 11) And that was before she ever stepped inside.

But things did not go as planned. Having originally given a commitment of a decade, she is burned out within a few years. The demands of being priest to all people at all times get to be too great. Ultimately, Taylor's leaving the church and the priesthood put her in a jeopardy that is easily understood by anyone who has questioned or struggled to find their vocation: "By leaving church, I was about to leave everything I knew how to do and be." (p. 122)

In the movie version of Leaving Church (not such a crazy idea, actually; Susan Sarandon as BBT?), a director might return dramatically via flashback again and again, as Taylor herself does, to the emotion of opening the box that contained her first clergy shirts, and readying herself to wear a clerical collar. "Who did I think I was? More to the point, who would other people think I was once I put these things on?" (p. 21) She confesses to great doubt in the midst of pastoral work, and she also confesses to levels of certainty that are somehow unfair when presented to people in the pews, and do not carry through into her life after the collar. Other occasions--of confessed naiveté--come from wisdom sadly won only after her professional ministry had ended: "When it came time to decide what to do with my life, I decided to go to seminary. What else do you do when you are in love with God?" (pp. 27-8)

It can be a joy to be there with Taylor as she remembers a scene, painting a picture with simple lines like, "Since the man was intent on what he was doing, I did not introduce myself right away. Instead I leaned against the counter and watched him work." At other times, she writes like a poet and the rhythms of her most introspective prose remind me of Gerard Manley Hopkins. "Sometimes I even keep the Sabbath with a cup of steaming Assam tea on my front porch, watching towhees vie for the highest perch in the poplar tree while God watches me." (p. x)

Most poignant in Leaving Church are the revelations of an ironic fulfillment of her ordained ministry after her priestly work has ended. This priest has found not just solace, but intense meaning, in the change from parish priest to full-time college professor and spiritual explorer. "I have never felt more engaged in what I was ordained to do," she explains. In fact, I would not be surprised if many parishioners in churches may want to screen their pastors and priests from reading such an honest account of clergy troubles that are ultimately solved by "leaving church."

Gone from her pulpit, Taylor revels in being a religious amateur once again. Her first Sunday after leaving her post seems perfect. She sits on her front porch and reads the Book of Common Prayer in solitude. "No one complained about the hymns. I did not sweat the sermon. The best part was the silence." (p. 138)

But the climax to her story comes on page 120, just past the midway point in the book and after she has given notice at the church. She is playfully pushed into a swimming pool during an outdoor party. Others had already gone in, both kids and adults, and Taylor wished that she, too, would be shoved in as one of the gang. "Whatever changes were occurring inside of me, I still looked waterproof to them," she worries, while standing there as an observer. But then, she feels two hands on her shoulder, and in she goes with the others.

Her revelation at that moment reminds me of the monk, Thomas Merton, standing on the corner of Fourth and Walnut streets in downtown Louisville, realizing for the first time that he is connected to every stranger he passes on the street. In The Seven Storey Mountain, Merton wrote: "I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people. . . . even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness." Taylor reflects: "I looked around at all of those shining people with makeup running down their cheeks, with hair plastered to their heads, and I was so happy to be one of them. If being ordained meant being set apart from them, then I did not want to be ordained anymore. I simply wanted to be human. I wanted to spit food and let snot run down my chin. I wanted to confess being as lost and found as anyone else without caring that my underwear showed through my wet clothes. Bobbing in that healing pool with all those other flawed being of light, I looked around and saw them as I had never seen them before, while some of them looked at me the same way. Why had it taken me so long to get into the pool?"

In the final section of the book, Taylor really gets humming (p. 218 and beyond) about what it means to be human, and church, and Christian--reflecting as one who has deliberately left the priesthood--and every reader will be underlining passages, as I did.

Now, I have looked closely at the author photo on Leaving Church. It is cleverly done, perhaps by Taylor's publisher. She wears a solid black shirt--seemingly identical in fabric and design to a clergy shirt--only without the white clerical collar at the top. Her clerical readers will immediately recognize her, but many newcomers will also feel invited to her writing. Even without the collar, Barbara Brown Taylor is one of our most important spiritual writers today. And without that piece of plastic, like it or not, her wisdom will undoubtedly reach that broader audience to which her ordination had originally pledged her.

--Jon M. Sweeney (Sweeney is a writer living in Vermont. His memoir, Born Again and Again: Surprising Gifts of a Fundamentalist Childhood, published last year, has just received an Award of Merit in the Spirituality category from Christianity Today magazine.
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103 of 111 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Straight from the heart, June 10, 2006
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I was fascinated by Barbara Brown Taylor's searchingly honest story of her struggle between wanting to serve God as an Episcopal priest and wanting to love God as one of God's beloved children. Doesn't sound as if the two desires conflict, does it? But in fact they do, and this is her story of that profoundly wrenching conflict and how she has tried to resolve it.

Taylor, who as a child fell in love with God as first revealed in the beauty of nature, became a famous preacher and famous writer in the Episcopal Church. She describes how much she loved the people both in and out of church that she served. She also describes how much she loved God, and how the busy-ness of her ministry came between her heart and God. Finally she got to a breaking point, and she chose: she ceased her "professional" ministry and became a college professor of religion. And after a dark night of the soul she found herself where she believes she needs to be -- back in "right relationship" with the Divine. But this all came at a high price. She is quite unsparing in her description of what she's lost as well as what she's gained.

She's also eloquent about the pressures on the Episcopal Church, and sounds a prophetic warning about its future if it continues in the hierarchical way it currently follows.

If you yourself are involved in ministry, or if you know someone who is, this is a vitally important book. Read it!
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37 of 37 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars Mixed Feelings, October 23, 2006
Bay Area Book Fiend (San Francisco, CA, USA) - See all my reviews
For a long time, any new collection of Barbara Brown Taylor's sermons was "must reading" for me. Her gift for storytelling, combined with an ability to get down to one gem in sometimes complex texts, provided fertile ground for meditation.

Then came a long stretch where I no longer snapped up her books -- until this recent "memoir of faith." It is clear that Barbara Brown Taylor has changed, and she shares those changes in this elegantly written book.

As she took this reader through her own journey from large urban parish to teaching (with a stop in a small country parish), she examines her interior life and her need for control. In a very moving passage, she describes her first Sunday in the pew instead of leading worship. Her candor in describing her desire to still be at the center of attention is something that speaks to anyone who has surrendered the spotlight, whether voluntarily or involuntarily.

Yet, as I read the section dealing with her life in her small country parish, I couldn't help but experience a disconnect. Her descriptions of feeling overburdened and of overcompensation leave out a very key part of why that might have happened. At the same time that she is pastoring this church, she is also spending a lot of time elsewhere as a guest preacher, member of the College of Preachers, and retreat leader. Yet there is no mention of the possibility that steady travel and multiple responsibilities might have played a role in both her feelings of burnout and some difficult relationships with parishioners. Memoir, by its very name, is naturally selective, and a memoirist has the right to pick and choose what to leave in and what to leave out. But the gloss over that aspect of her life seemed to be rather disingenuous and, in the end, cast a pall over my response to her story.

Barbara Brown Taylor has indeed changed, and is still a woman of faith. I'm grateful for that and for her writing. I only wish that she had addressed, even in small part, the public aspect to her ministry that surely played a role in changing her feelings about the meaning of ordination for her. After all, if she did not have a national reputation, what are the odds that this story would find any outlet?
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155 of 172 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars Missing a Sense of Call, September 26, 2006
Bob Kaylor (Monument, CO USA) - See all my reviews
I have enjoyed Barbara Brown Taylor's essays in The Christian Century and there is no question that she is a talented and descriptive writer. This book is a pleasant (and quick) read largely because her prose flows so beautifully.

On the other hand, I had some issues with this book. As someone who is also ordained (United Methodist), I know firsthand the pressures that one faces in parish ministry. There's never enough time, there's always a need, and "compassion fatigue," as Taylor puts it, is a real-world possibility. For me, however, ministry is first and foremost about calling--that God is somehow involved in choosing us for this work. That doesn't make us special or spiritually pedestal-worthy (as one of my seminary professors once put it, "When God calls you to ministry, he isn't doing you a favor."). Taylor's story as I read it seems to involve more of a drift toward ministry as a helping profession where baby birds and wounded souls can be healed by clergy touch. I'm not always sure that that's a healthy vision of ministry, especially when its the only one. The call to lead, to be prophetic, to teach, to handle the tough stuff, and to be the called out representative of God is hard work and being faithful to the task is less about being a "helper" and more about being an "equipper." Setting healthy boundaries and revisiting our call frequently are two of the essential tasks of clergy if we're going to stick with God's call on us for the long haul. Ultimately, ministry isn't about us--it's about what God does through us.

The other thing that I had in the back of mind as I read was the fact that Barbara could leave parish ministry with minimal disruption to her life. She was able to stay in the house that she and her husband built, live in the same community, take a job teaching at a nearby college, etc. For most clergy who are thinking about "leaving church," the decision carries far greater consequences. That's not to justify staying in a position that is draining life from you, but it does mean that when most of us are called it's a full commitment of our resources and lives to a particular place for a particular time. Simply stopping work for a time is not a live option. If you're called, though, you tend to not be looking at other options anyway and learn to work through the rough stuff.

On the positive side, her embracing of Sabbath is something I want to pursue for myself and her reflections on what she misses about serving a parish (offering the sacraments, for example) remind me of what I like best about what I do.

This would be a great book for a clergy group or parish council to read together and discuss. The issues of what ministry is today and how clergy might best fulfill their calling is worth some serious discussion.
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28 of 29 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars 4 1/2 Stars...Holy Ignorance, February 21, 2007
Eric Wilson "author" (Nashville, TN United States) - See all my reviews
(TOP 1000 REVIEWER)   
The title of this book caught my eye from a bookstore shelf. It rang like a tiny bell, like one only I could hear. I had spent years in official "ministry," only to discover the alienation and drain that such a thing imposes on a person. I'd watched people change their demeanor and speech patterns in my presence. I'd realized the unintentional gulf that went against everything Jesus himself came to overcome. When I left that position, I did so hoping to know people as they really are, to meet them along the road, dusty and dirty as I.

On the surface, Taylor's book is more gracious and reverent than an Anne Lamott title, but her heart beats with the same frustrations and struggles. Her words ring true. The first third of the book covers her move toward ministry in the Episcopalian church, then we read of her slow disenchantment brought on by long hours and spiritual draining. Finally, we discover with her the freedom and true faith found in serving other people as one of them--not as one set above them.

There are numerous rich passages here, told with clarity and wisdom, sometimes revealed through symbolism. Although I don't necessarily agree with a few of Taylor's theological angles, I fully relate to her desire to serve God, to love others, and to stay somewhat sane in the process. While the motives of many clerics and priests may be sincere, the Mother Church (as Taylor refers to it) often takes over. The congregants, the baby chicks, are expected to stay within the safe shadows of the Church, and treated like heretics if they wander outside the yard. When Taylor describes her hunger to be part of the Mother's family, while also wanting to move on from being treated like a kid, I know just what she means. When she expresses her appreciation for holy ignorance over religious certainty, I nod my head vigorously.

For those still carrying the scars of organized religion, this book is a welcome glass of cold water--bracing, refreshing, invigorating. There is life out there. And beauty. And God's love still brings salvation to those who may never step through the doors of a church.
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26 of 28 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Pure spoken honesty, June 14, 2006
Many scholarly people have written intelligent and poetic reviews of Barbara Brown Taylor's new book, "Leaving Church: a Memoir of Faith. My reading of it was on an emotional level and I was filled with respect and awe for Barbara's strength and honesty. Priests are trained to reserve their emotions, mask their opinions, and set the self aside for the job of ministering to their community. To bare her soul, admit her weaknesses, doubts, and desires, and finally to share her resolve to bring the Divine back into her life was a task beyond most people's ability. She has laid her life out there for scrutiny and that took a lot of courage. Simply put, to be honest with and about ones self and reveal that self to others to not only see but to learn from and ultimately to forgive and grow.

Many people have read the book and picked out the parts they want to use to fight battles within the church or defend issues they have with the church. The book was written for exactly the opposite reason- to set all that aside and find the divine in your life, spread the word, and share the love of God. Barbara has not given up her collar, is not an "ex- priest" She is an Episcopalian priest who has for the time ceased to be a parish priest. She is now searching, growing, learning, and sharing the word of God with the community of man outside four walls.

I want to thank Barbara for her honesty and for sharing the good and the bad from her journey thus far. Barbara has the ability to reach into your soul and speak the gospel on a personal level that we can absorb and lead each of us to examine our own souls and our relationship with God. Her book has opened many hearts to the possibility of a more personal relationship with the divine and freed many to let go of guilt and the feeling of not belonging, to one of basking in God's love and sharing that joy with our fellow man.
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25 of 27 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars An honest and personal look into "church life", June 1, 2006
By (New York, New York) - See all my reviews
Ten years ago Baylor University published a list of the world's "most effective" English-speaking preachers. Only one of 12 was a woman: Barbara Brown Taylor, a middle-aged Episcopal priest serving a small-town parish in northwest Georgia. A year later, about the time she started publishing volumes of sermons, she surprised her growing number of admirers, resigned from her church, and accepted a teaching "chair of religion" at a local liberal arts college.

Clearly, Taylor isn't the first to leave parish work in search of a second career as a professor. Religion departments are full of clerics. But very few so honestly and so masterfully write the memoir, walking the reader through the conscious and subconscious hopes and fears of all the years of "church life." Not that Taylor betrays parishioner confidences and lays out juicy, rectory gossip. Her writing, rather, covers interior ground.

God's calling aside, what personal qualities drew her to parish work? We readers quickly warm to a gangly girl with a big heart, nursing orphaned birds and mice. We see a young woman from an unchurched home who finds God, largely through an evangelical campus ministry, and wants to serve God and humanity. But after 15 years of urban and then more rural parish work, her compassion fatigue drives her to face that she's spiritually famished. She sees that, for her, being a priest meant "to serve a God who never stops calling people to do more justice and love more mercy, and simultaneously to serve people who nine times out of ten are just looking for a safe place to rest." Even laypeople can understand the dilemma. She includes a delightful quote from professional essayist E. B. White: "When I wake up in the morning," he said, "I can't decide whether to enjoy the world or improve the world; that makes it difficult to plan the day."

Taylor's book would have been stronger if she had put titles on her 17 chapters. The book is organized into three "parts": "Finding" --- her vocation, her parish, her priestly ministry (covering more than half the book); "Losing" --- "What do you do the day after you change your life?"; and a short "Keeping" --- "I empty the bag of my old convictions on the kitchen table to decide what I will keep." Ultimately what she keeps will not satisfy orthodox Christians, as it has more to do with faith (as a verb) than with beliefs.

Taylor presents her career crisis in invigoratingly positive terms, being called to a new phase of life in which she could better commune with God --- through nature, through Sabbath rest, through worship, but from the pew rather than the pulpit, which separated her from the rest of humanity, as did her "collar." She humorously describes going to one --- and only one --- New Year's Eve party: "Seeing their priest in a blue sequined dress...was like running into their dentist in a Speedo at the beach. They could hardly look at me. I asked [husband] Ed if we could go home early, and the following year I helped design a New Year's Eve liturgy." For good or bad, she, the shepherd, was set apart from her flock. "Being in charge was the only way I could learn how much I wanted to be in community."

Ultimately this is a many-layered book, in which Taylor critiques the power structures of the organized church even as she admits that she rather thrived on the power of her position. As she looks back over the past decade, Taylor knows what she's "lost" or walked away from. And she seems very content with where she's landed.

--- Reviewed by Evelyn Bence
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14 of 14 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Cathartic, Even for Me, September 30, 2006
Heather Ogston (Roseville, CA United States) - See all my reviews
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Barbara Brown Taylor never claims that her approach to the ministry was typical, nor does she advocate that other people follow her footsteps in leaving the church (although she does have some interesting suggestions for empowering churchgoers and the faithful in general). Her story of "finding, losing, and keeping," is merely one personal narrative that successfully avoids the pretense that everyone shares the same dramas and should therefore listen to her wisdom. She is not selling anything. Her book is rather an intimate, articulate self-revelation about her path in the world.

I am a non-religious person, and I am often wearied, threatened, or offended by religious perspectives and narratives that don't honor the humanity in all of us. Taylor's book did not put me off: I read it voraciously, I frequently found myself crying, and the book left me emotionally drained but satisfied. It was cathartic. I learned a lot about her particular experience as a priest, which satisfied my curiosity, but better yet, I easily followed her into deeply incisive but poetic analyses of her own behavior, reactions, expectations, needs, desires, and hopes. One of the final lessons, that some people thrive "in the wildnerness" and others thrive in the central church, and that all are needed and wanted by God, was a refreshing and reassuring view of faith.

I can see why Taylor's desires for solitude and nature, and her fortune in living on a beautiful rural ranch, might not be representative of a good priest. In fact, she herself states that she might have been better qualified as a religious hermit. I won't go away thinking that all priests think as she does; it's clear even from her book that they don't. But I was grateful to Taylor for sharing her vision of faith with me. In a sense, with this book, I think she has again achieved her priestly mission of "finding holiness and holding it up to God."
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12 of 12 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars "A Walk Around The Lake", September 9, 2006
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In this abundantly accessible account of what I would describe as a life well lived, Barbara Brown Taylor gives the reader a glimpse into that life as she has sought to find the truth, both inside and outside the organized church. She has always tried to listen to the beat of her own drummer that sometimes was literally that of Native Americans. No longer a rector in the Episcopal Church but a college religion teacher, she has, as she so aptly puts it, now left the altar and pitched her tent in the yard. She says she has now learned to "prize holy ignorance" over "religious certainty." Like that great poet Emily Dickinson, she now often keeps the Sabbath staying at home.

Almost 20 years ago at All Saints Episcopal Church in Atlanta I heard Barbara Brown Taylor speak at a memorial service for persons who had died of AIDS. I had no idea who she was at the time. I only knew that her remarks both seared and comforted my heart. To this day I remember them. This priest, as she still sees herself although she is no longer a rector, is nothing if not good with words. She is less into "fireworks in the sky" than "the electricity that sparks the human heart." Taylor compares the position of a priest to that of the chief engineer in a nuclear plant. "In both cases, one needed to know how to approach great power without loosing great danger and getting fried in the process." She describes her new position at Grace-Calvary Episcopal Church after the death of the former, much loved rector: "Like the second wife of a widower, I wanted to make up for what they had lost. . .without trying to take his place." In her first day of teaching a religion class at Piedmont College, she encounters a student, a Hindu from Sri Lanka, who has "had lots of practice with pronouns snapping shut on him." The list goes on and on. How very fortunate were both those parishioners and now her students who have taken advantage of her wisdom.

One of Taylor's favorite quotations is by the poet Wallace Stevens: "Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake." Those of us who have read this really wondrous memoir can be thankful of our brief but enlightening walk around the lake with her.
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25 of 29 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars A Moving and Honest Look At Ministry And Faith, January 30, 2007
Timothy Kearney (Haverhill, MA United States) - See all my reviews
I'm going to admit that when I select a ministry related book such as LEAVING CHURCH, I usually expect that the writer will tell a story about what leads to the pulpit, not what takes a person away. In LEAVING CHURCH, we find the opposite happening: Barbara Brown Taylor decides to give up parish ministry even though she seems to be effective and doing a wonderful job. I guess I decided to read it because I wanted to see how it would enfold. What I found was an interesting tale of faith that is both church related and personal. The fact that she seems to be following the movement of the Spirit in her life makes the book interesting and for this reason she has a great deal to say about the life of faith in general.

I think it could be argued that the title LEAVING CHURCH may be a bit misleading. She does not go from a life of faith to a life of no faith. From my reading of the book Taylor leaves parish ministry but from my point of view is still involved in ministry as a teacher and guest preacher. She leaves the pulpit in favor of the classroom but the call to both seems to be similar. If church is supposed to mean people of God, I'll agree that she leaves the edifice of a church building but she never abandons Church as in God's people.

For me, the book's greatest contribution is that it gives an honest look at the life of a person in ordained ministry. Few people who are not ordained ministers can understand what it means to be so intimately involved in people's lives in their greatest and worst moments. It is a privileged position and Taylor appreciates the opportunity. Likewise people who are not in ordained ministry do not always understand the expectations people have and how wearing a clerical collar does change the way the world looks at you. Taylor portrays accurately the strengths and pitfalls of both the role clergy people play in the lives of others as well as how taxing it can be. She's also very honest about how challenging the transition was as she went from being a priest at Grace Calvary Church to being just a member of the local community.

As a person in active ministry, I found much of the book very insightful. In Barbara Brown Taylor we see an Episcopal priest who did care for her congregation and took their spiritual needs as well as her own seriously. When we hear her say she had a hard time as a guest preacher in a congregation she didn't love because she didn't known them, we know that she did love her parishioners and recall the importance of love in her ministry. We also see that she is not in ministry for her own edification and ego. When she began having opinions that differed with her church's positions and the opinions of many of her congregants, she decided it was time to leave ministry. Too many do not have this insight and the result is a divided and alienated congregation. Her dedication cannot be questioned. However, there was something significant missing, at least for me. I think I would have enjoyed another fifty or so pages with tales about teaching and how she found God in the classroom. We are given a few glimpses of this, but it is summary form rather than the detailed prose of her ministry at Grace Calvary. Still, it's a great read for anyone in active ministry and offers some wonderful thoughts for people in transition too.
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Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith
Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor (Paperback - May 1, 2012)
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