That hasn’t stopped me from thinking about and talking to others about moral injury. I gave a presentation on moral injury in ministry leaders at the ELCA’s Rostered Ministers Gathering (our term for “clergy”) in July. I also led a didactic on moral injury research and its application to chaplaincy for my CPE cohort in August. I am also prepping with our team at the Soul Repair Center at Brite Divinity School for our upcoming Fall Moral Injury Certificate Program cohort, affectionately known as “MICP.”

Speaking of which, registration for our Fall cohort ends August 31st! Our 10-week course is unlike any other Moral Injury education program, bringing adult learners together from multiple professions. Our course blends research, scholarship, and practical applications from multiple perspectives. I know some of you who read my Substack have asked about our course or would like to enroll - now here’s your chance! You can scan the QR code in the following flyer for more information on enrollment:

MICP also affords you access to some of the foremost moral injury scholars and researchers. Joe Wiinikka-Lydon has written extensively about how moral injury provides a framework for social-political critique and is currently working as a researcher on violent extremism at the Southern Poverty Law Center. Rita Nakashima Brock created MICP in 2023 and is one of the earliest scholars who conceptualized moral injury beyond the clinical context. Michael Yandell is the director of the Soul Repair Center and is one of the few voices offering a theological conceptualization of moral injury.

Speaking of scholarship, there are a few things I want to share from that world. In May, Dr. Brian Powers, Director of the International Centre for Moral Injury at Durham University (UK) published an article in the St. Andrews Encyclopedia of Theology. Powers’ article is a great review of moral injury in theology, covering the scholarship to date and laying out future directions in scholarship. You can download and read Powers’ article here:

Moral Injury Powers

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Powers and Yandell also took some time to discuss moral injury in Christopher Nolan’s recently released cinematic adaptation of “The Odyssey.” 23 years ago, Psychologist Jonathan Shay, who first coined the term “moral injury,” wrote about the struggles of Vietnam Veterans returning home and reintegrating into society in his book, “Odysseus in America.” (Simon and Schuster, 2003) He compares the story of the Odyssey to their homecoming and to the long-lasting effects of war on military service members, civilians affected by war, and the nation's psyche.

Rita Nakashima Brock also wrote her own commentary on the movie, which you can read by clicking here.

I don’t want to spoil the movie for those who haven’t seen it, but while I am not a combat veteran, as a former submarine officer and chaplain, I think the movie captures many of the themes of moral injury’s effects on individuals, relationships, societies, and cultures. Maybe you’re not a Christopher Nolan fan, but if you’re interested in learning more about moral injury, the film is worth seeing!

This brings me to the final part of this post: What have I been thinking about lately on moral injury?

The presentations I gave this summer have me thinking a lot about leadership development in faith leaders, especially those serving congregations and communities of faith. Like frontline healthcare workers, faith leaders experience much the same moral distress and injury. However, classical definitions of moral injury don’t quite describe the experience I’ve heard from so many pastors, deacons, and lay leaders. Betrayal, shame, and guilt-type moral injury often point to single, traumatic events. While this can be true for faith leaders, more common is moral distress that builds over time and culminates in a crescendo effect where moral injuries surface even when the leader is in a healthy, stable environment. Moral injury in faith leaders is the feeling of disillusionment with the people, community, and institution they serve. Whether due to one’s assumptions or the expectation of goodness, equating what they serve with the character of God makes the injury no less traumatic or devastating. Moreover, I wonder whether unresolved and unaddressed moral injury is silently killing the institutional culture of churches, contributing to the decline in Europe and North America. It is also the source of apathy, cynicism, and burnout among faith leaders, leading them to leave their calls or, at worst, be removed from them due to misconduct and unethical behavior. At the same time, experiences of moral distress can also reinforce and affirm a faith leader’s sense of call and the faith that grounds it - if there is space and support to reflect and synthesize their experiences.

I’m also thinking about what makes chaplains so well-suited to address moral injury. Research acknowledges the efficacy of spirituality and chaplaincy in addressing moral injury, and many chaplains assert that “what they bring to the table” is absolutely crucial to addressing it and aiding recovery. Yet, as clinicians attempt to address morality in their therapy and care, there is another aspect to consider. Unlike those of clinicians, a chaplain’s theological, social, and moral frameworks are transparent to those seeking their care because their religious affiliation is readily known. In fact, chaplaincy ethics require chaplains to disclose and adhere to their religious affiliation as part of their credentials. Unlike clinicians, who are required to maintain boundaries regarding their moral, social, and religious beliefs, chaplains are expected to explore these themes with those seeking their care, drawing on their established frameworks. Thus, careseekers are empowered to choose chaplains who best align with their moral frameworks and experiences, making chaplains valuable in processing and healing from moral injuries, even if they lack clinical credentials.

For my readers: I’m wondering what you want me to write about? Is there a particular issue or dynamic you want me to address? As I head into the fall, I’m working on an article that explores faith leader development to aid moral discernment and the processing of moral injuries. So, more to come!

So what is the Moral Injury Certificate Program, or “MICP,” and who is it for?

MICP is designed for adult learners interested in the foundations and the latest research on moral injury, approaches to recovery and healing, and how these apply to their current professional practice or academic interests. The 10-week program culminates in a capstone project in which participants share how they plan to integrate it into their existing work, research, or vocation. In the past, we’ve had military veterans, medical practitioners, psychologists, researchers, chaplains, social workers, and PhD students participate. Our participants have also included those working in the legal, government, higher education, non-profit, and religious professions. Our students also represent the international community, including Algeria, the UK, and Israel.

What makes MICP different from other moral injury education programs? While we honor psycho-medical understandings and approaches that address moral injury, MICP takes a different approach. We also draw from philosophical, religious, spiritual, and cultural traditions to understand moral injury, and explore social, ritual, and communal practices to enact healing and repair. Our program is also unique in that, rather than relying solely on information exchange or lecture formats, we place students in learning cohorts where they engage with one another on the course material and on their own contextual experiences of moral distress and injury. As I like to tell our students, “Everyone is an expert in moral injury, and we’re learning an ever-evolving language to share what we know and better understand it.”

As you consider enrolling in or passing this opportunity on to others you know, I want to leave you with this: the real power of MICP lies in connecting with others in the ongoing conversation and work to address moral injury. Every generation faces its own moral challenges in its culture and society. While we may never totally eliminate moral suffering and pain (which is impossible, in my opinion), it is the ongoing process of reflecting on and understanding it that is crucial and essential, and it ensures we mitigate its effects in ourselves, those we serve, and the places we live and belong to.

I hope you’ll join us!

Feel free to download and share the flyer below, which includes the registration information in this post.

Micp Fall 2026 Flyer

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It has been three months since I attended the International Centre for Moral Injury’s (ICMI) annual conference. Scholars, researchers, and practitioners from several professions across the world convened to present their work on moral injury and recovery. If you click on the link, you’ll be able to view some of the presenters’ work.

One of the most important topics was a panel discussion on the potential inclusion of moral injury in the 6th edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders (DSM-6). In March 2025, a team of researchers presented a paper introducing an updated definition of moral injury that included conceptualizing it as a psychiatric disorder. That work led to the inclusion of moral injury as a clinician Z-note in the DSM-5 in September 2025, under a broader category of “moral problems.” Z-notes, while not establishing formal criteria for psychiatric diagnosis, empower clinicians to incorporate the issues they address into treatment plans and provide researchers with a basis for further study. Those suffering from moral injury can receive mental health treatment, and moral injury research can potentially be funded. This inclusion opens the possibility that treatment for moral injury may be covered by health insurance. As a result of this inclusion in the DSM-5, this team has proclaimed that moral injury is officially recognized as a mental health condition. They propose their definition of moral injury disorder calls for a full set of criteria to establish it as a psychiatric disorder in the DSM-6.

Moral Injury Disorder: Persistent distress that arises because personal experience disrupts or threatens: (a) one’s sense of the goodness of oneself, of others, of institutions, or of what are understood to be higher powers, or (b) one’s beliefs or intuitions about right and wrong, or good and evil, so as to cause impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning in ways that are out of proportion or inconsistent with cultural or religious norms concerning such experiences.

This definition has sparked debate among researchers, scholars, and practitioners interested in moral injury, particularly regarding the implications of pathologizing all forms of moral suffering and the ways it shows up in people’s lives. Does moral injury signal something defective about people’s ability to process what is right and wrong? Is suffering in response to experiences that challenge our beliefs and values something that needs to be eliminated through clinical treatment? Or, does the presence of moral injury, while extremely painful, indicate that our moral compass, while strained, is at work, and does it raise our awareness to relational and systemic harm? There is a concerning logic to the definition proposed by Vanderwheele et al. that I wish to address in this post. That concern arises out of the last clause of their definition, “so as to cause impairment in…..important areas of functioning in ways that are out of proportion or inconsistent with cultural or religious norms concerning such experiences.”

The clinical understanding of moral injury focuses on the function of morality, or the thoughts, emotions, and behavioral reactions that are produced when we react to moral decisions and situations. When moral injury emerges, clinical approaches, whether psychological, spiritual, or social, focus on exploring individuals’ beliefs, values, and virtues to the extent that this reduces their psychic and emotional pain. The focus is on the “injury,” primarily on reducing negative emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. This is why moral injury has often been mistaken for PTSD, and most clinical moral injury treatments derive from PTSD treatments. Exploring the quality or viability of one’s deeply held moral beliefs, values, and virtues in clinical treatment is constrained by professional ethics that protect patients.

Yet, there are clinicians on the team who developed this definition who are challenging this important professional boundary. They suggest there is an appropriate place for clinicians to address the quality of an individual’s morality if they believe it is the reason for their disordered thinking, emotions, and behaviors. Including fields of positive psychology and Moral Foundations Theory, addressing the quality of morality includes “assessing how individuals are accomplishing basic moral tasks: developing moral commitments, making moral decisions, implementing these decisions, assessing the correspondence between their ideals and behavior, dealing effectively with moral failure, and developing morally admirable character traits, or virtues.”1 Following their logic, treating the quality of one’s morality just another aspect of addressing “impairment to [moral] functioning.”

This logic is concerning, particularly in organizational contexts. In the military, Human Performance Optimization (HPO) is a capability-based approach that focuses on health and performance improvements key to optimizing Service Members’ performance of their core tasks or primary duties.2 It raises the question, “Is it even possible or appropriate to adjust, reorient, bend, or even assimilate people’s morality to optimize individual functioning?” Vanderwheele et al. suggest that not only is it possible, but it may also be appropriate to optimize “moral performance,” whether in service to HPO, human flourishing, or to aims meant to optimize individuals’ productivity and success in line with the aims of society and organizations.

This leads to my second concern about the definition: who decides and defines what is morally “normal?”

Perhaps unintended by the authors, but most concerning, the inclusion of “cultural and religious norms” opens the door to disqualify, dismiss, and ostracize those who fall outside the “norms” defined by societal and institutional authority. Rather than addressing morally legitimate concerns, they can be dismissed as mental health conditions. Moral norms can be changed or manipulated to silence objections to organizations’ morally questionable decisions and actions. Mental health clinicians and chaplains are potentially free to inject their beliefs and views into their therapy and care to “normalize” patients’ morality. Furthermore, clinical care could be leveraged to serve institutional aims rather than the healing and well being of individuals. Ultimately, the logic of moral injury disorder suggests the therapeutic solution to impairment is obedience. However, ethicists widely assert that obedience cannot be moral or ethical.3

What do we make of all this? There will always be a need for clinical care, whether psychological, social, or spiritual, to address moral injury. Healthy moral functioning is necessary and vital for individuals to live productive, satisfying lives. live well with others, and mitigate the painful effects of moral injury. That cannot, however, include negating individuals’ moral conscience or calling it into question as they deal with their moral injuries. No matter how painful, how traumatic, and how devastating the effects of the injury, moral injury isn’t a disorder, but instead a very real and, in many ways, an important part of what makes us human. Viewing moral injuries as intensified moral awareness leads to important moral exploration that can reveal the good in us and in each other and empower efforts to improve our relationships, organizations, and societies.

Root argues that throughout history, God’s people have always sought to stabilize their communities and institutions through their desire for growth. This “logic of escalation,” as Root calls it, calls for growing resources. Ancient Israel prayed to Baal’s gods in hope that they would increase the abundance of resources such as food, good weather, and the nation’s overall prosperity. Worship of Baal’s gods, in addition to ensuring prosperity to protect it from rival nations, also served as a form of political diplomacy. The problem, Root asserts, is that in their false promise of increased forms of capital, such gods were never satisfied. They always demanded more and insisted that it must always be done better.

Root sees the church’s dependency on growth-driving stabilization, inherited from the Industrial Age, as a form of idolatry functioning the same way as the gods of Baal. Like Israel, today’s church believes that looking to growth strategies, technical innovation, or secular ideologies can ultimately save it. And so, like the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18 who exhaust themselves trying to conjure this false god to perform miracles for them, the church also exhausts itself perilously. Yet this problem runs deeper than a matter of wasted and misguided energy. Church growth ultimately rejects the living God in Jesus Christ, who ultimately saves and rejects any notion of faith in such a God to act on their behalf. Instead, Root calls for the church to refocus on what it has always been called to do - to follow. In his words, all the church can really do is obey and trust in the action of the God who saves.

What really caught my attention is how Root avoids the trap of politicizing his argument. Salvation through church growth is equally a problem for liberal and conservative churches, though it takes different forms. He describes how capitalism, as an ideological god that demands more, bigger, and better, is so pervasive within the church’s institutional culture (at least in Europe and North America). Capitalism, and its logic that the church can only save itself by growing its resources, twists even its most pure and well-intentioned efforts into theologically and spiritually bankrupt ones. Even evangelism, justice, and charity, in the logic of escalation, are simply means to grow the church, ensuring its survival. Root is basically declaring, “none of us is immune.” “Baal and the Gods of More” is a challenging read, but it is also liberating if you are like me and have often felt burnt out by ministry and frustrated by the inconsistencies in the church’s ministry and public messaging. Moreover, Root’s call back to relationality with God, to a growth that comes through trusting and abiding in God’s enduring presence and action, is refreshing and hopeful. There’s power in naming the problem. At the same time, I wonder,

“Do we even know or care that it’s a problem?”

In my experience, talking with ministry colleagues and those deeply invested in the church, I find that the gods of more are so embedded in our ecclesial and ecclesiastical life that it’s become part of our spiritual DNA, and that all of what Root is naming has been normalized. It’s so ingrained in our ways of being and doing as a church that turning away from it to relationality feels like an impossible move. Or, the notion we’ve fallen into idolatry feels foreign and offensive. In other words, “doing more” and “doing better” simply feels like we’re faithfully following Jesus. While this may seem like an interesting argument, many might wonder, “What’s the big deal?”

Yet many of those same colleagues and individuals who have dedicated their lives to the church also admit that ministry feels exhausting right now amid shrinking resources and numbers. Yet, there is a feeling that goes beyond burnout, that something is missing from our experience of church, even if we have a hard time accepting Root’s diagnosis as our own. I think that can be described by turning to another aspect of the gods of Baal and the consequences of following them.

“They rejected all the commandments of the LORD their God and made for themselves cast images of two calves; they made a sacred pole, worshiped all the host of heaven, and served Baal. They made their sons and their daughters pass through fire, used divination and augury, and sold themselves to do evil in the sight of the LORD, provoking him to anger.” (1 Kings 17:16-17)

“Because the people have forsaken me and have profaned this place by making offerings in it to other gods whom neither they nor their ancestors nor the kings of Judah have known, and because they have filled this place with the blood of the innocent and gone on building the high places of Baal to burn their children in the fire as burnt offerings to Baal, which I did not command or decree, nor did it enter my mind,” (Jeremiah 19:4-5)

Idolatry is an important and major faith issue. However, when we consider the present secular age we live in (which Root addresses extensively in his “Secular Age” project), where such issues feel disconnected from our present-day experience, it is equally important to consider the consequences of worshipping the “gods of more”: harm. We are sacrificing people’s physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being at the altar of these gods. In its most extreme forms, such idolatry leads to trauma that kills the body, the spirit, and our relationships. In most cases, however, I see this harm as slowly building over time through morally disorienting and distressing experiences, in which people and their well-being have been sacrificed on the altar of the church’s desire for stability and growth. Over time, the lingering effects of these experiences, known as “moral residue,” build up, creating a “crescendo effect” that leads to disillusionment and harm that can be characterized as an injury. Ultimately, I believe this is what causes people to leave institutional forms of religion, namely, the church.

These experiences contradict the church’s central message that it is the place where people experience and grow into the truth of Christ’s abundant, life-giving grace and love. Following Root, recognizing the harm that accompanies idol worship leads us to a serious consideration of relationality and a trust in divine action that reflects God’s ultimate care and concern for all people. In other words, as the church, we are reminded that the mission IS the people. What we experience in and through each other is deeply intertwined with what we experience in and through the living God made known in Jesus Christ.

All that said, I highly encourage anyone to read Root’s latest work. As you consider whether you’ve fallen into the culture of idolatry he describes, it’s worth asking yourself whether you or others have been morally harmed as well. In doing so, perhaps that will be enough to compel us to what Root is calling the church and Christians to - growing in our relationship with God in Christ.

If you are interested in work that makes a more explicit link to moral injury, consider checking out a lecture I gave last fall at Durham University, UK.

It’s been a week since I left Bratislava. I’ve been meaning to put in writing what my time there has meant, but it’s been difficult to do so. Part of the reason is that, since my return to the United States, the pace of life has been rather frantic. Some of that is inevitable in any transition, but what I’ve noticed is that it seems to be the norm in life in the United States. The past three years of my life in Bratislava already feel like a distant memory, and yet this familiar life in the United States feels strange and foreign. To be honest, it feels a lot like returning from past deployments. You find yourself longing for the past, simply because it’s familiar, and life at home feels chaotic and disorienting.

Yet, there is something different about my time in Bratislava, and it’s linked to the theme of my writing on moral injury. As I look back on my time in Bratislava, serving such a unique and diverse group of people, I didn’t realize the extent of my own moral injury from years of pastoral ministry. It is no secret that churches in the United States are struggling, and this has placed a lot of pressure on the pastors who serve them. As a pastor, you’re a worship leader, preacher, spiritual caregiver, advocate for the least in society, administrator, fundraiser, program director, and community organizer all rolled into one. Of course, not every pastor experiences this, and most of these experiences are not traumatic or acute harms. Rather, it’s the bumps and bruises to your spirit that build up over time, often without your awareness of how it’s affecting you. The “injury” is how it shifts your sense of call and vocation, changes your beliefs about other people and the world, and diminishes the joy that comes in a real, life-giving connection to the divine. These shifts fundamentally affect how we live, lead, and minister. It also reveals our own spiritual poverty on individual, interpersonal, institutional, and societal levels. Looking back, that injury was real, and I carried it with me to Bratislava.

Retired Navy Admiral William McRaven often spoke about the importance of international partnerships during his career, and he believes they remain essential to building a better world. I think this belief applies to my experience in Bratislava and pastoring this small international church. In a time when our world is becoming more fractured, and the forces of this world push us to live in isolation, international communities and relationships, and their diversity, remind us that we need each other. Yet I differ from Admiral McRaven in that for communities of faith, I don’t think the point of diverse, international relationships is to build a better world. Instead, they are places and spaces of moral healing that renew our spirits. Diversity on its own is not our strength, nor does it create unity. However, diversity is necessary because it reveals our common values and that, as human beings, we are more alike than we think. That alone is healing and brings recognition that, to morally and spiritually heal, we need each other.

That is what I am carrying with me as I think about my time in Bratislava. These people from all over the world, diverse in so many ways, showed me things that the bumps and bruises of ministry, and their accompanying pain, had blinded me to. In all their complexities as people from different ethnic and cultural backgrounds, they taught me a simple yet profound value: the need for human relationships, where we bear one another’s burdens and are reminded that we are not alone in facing life’s trials. As people, we share a common need for dignity, belonging, and interdependence, and needing each other isn’t a sign of weakness, but rather a recognition of what makes us moral. I carry a sense of gratitude for being part of a community where this healing occurred - for those in the congregation and for me. Our time together repaired our collective cynicism about religious institutions these days and reminded us of what they can be for people when they are at their best. I feel healed from the years of bumps and bruises of feeling more like a commodity to secure people’s happiness and an instrument to advance the religious institution’s interests. At the same time, my gratitude and healing are also tied to a sense of loss and sadness at leaving such a special place and a special group of people. “Two things can be true at the same time,” the saying goes.

What I will continue to carry with me, as I inevitably get swept up in the chaos and busyness of life in the United States and a new work role, is this fundamental truth: we need each other. Without each other, we will lose ourselves. Without each other, we cannot be whole, and we cannot see the parts of ourselves that truly need to heal. Without people like those at Bratislava International Church, we will never fully realize the moral value of communities that heal us and are the moral glue that holds this life together.

We need each other, and I hope you will experience the same surprise, gratitude, sadness, and healing I have over the past three years in the places and spaces you reside in.

2026 Icmi Conference Bathsheba Syndrome Revisited

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One of the great things about presenting papers at conferences is that you get immediate feedback from scholars, researchers, and practitioners in the field. I think that in many ways, the feedback is richer than the paper itself! I’ll share those in this post now:

1. Leaders are catalysts for mitigating moral injuries - whether we like it or not. Moral injury practitioners, researchers, and scholars seem to fall into two camps when it comes to institutional-level moral injury. One focuses on individual repair and adaptability, in which organizations become more just and ethical in the aggregate. The other calls for structural and systemic reform, reflecting organizational theories such as just culture. Within those camps, while the former tends to be skeptical of leaders and the latter optimistic towards them, both acknowledge that effective leadership is a necessary part of change. Leaders represent the axis of an organization and its people, balancing and aligning goals, well-being, and moral and ethical expectations. When leaders get out of alignment or unbalanced, a whole host of problems arise - including moral injury.
   

2. Do an individual’s beliefs, values, and virtues change over time? In people’s responses to my paper, there seems to be an assumption that leaders innately possess a moral compass to uphold organizational ethical standards. Therefore, repeated reminders of core values and virtues are sufficient to ensure ethical behavior. Yet little attention is paid to the fact that one’s experiences may change and shift one's beliefs, values, and virtues over time. Said another way, we don’t proactively evaluate leaders for moral drift. Doing so, I believe, presents tremendous risk of moral failure, harm, and moral injury not just for the organization and those working under the leader, but also for the leader themselves.

3. What does a leader do when it is the organization’s values that have drifted? I was asked, “So what do leaders do when the executive leadership or organization is the one committing moral transgressions?” Conventional thought typically calls for leaders to resign when they can no longer reconcile their personal morality with the goals, agendas, and vision of the organization they serve. Yet the listener’s question asks what a leader must do when the organization is the one morally injuring others. In such cases, it may actually be morally injurious to the leader to resign. So what is a leader to do?
   
   I think this is why it is so crucial that leaders have a clear sense of “where their line is.” A strong orientation and adaptive calibration of a leader’s moral compass opens a variety of options to them in exercising moral agency. Resigning need not be the only option when it comes to preserving institutional integrity and preventing moral harm. By knowing their moral and ethical boundaries, leaders can fully weigh the costs against moral obligations when making decisions.

In short, ethical leaders must have more than personal and professional success to orient their moral compasses. The Bathsheba Syndrome can certainly include “success blindness,” causing moral failures, as Ludwig and Longenecker conceptualized over 30 years ago. However, the emergence of moral injury today demands that leaders recognize that they are part of a moral ecosystem in which their actions have broader effects, whether positive or negative.

https://soul-repair-center.teachable.com/p/moral-injury-certificate-program-spring2026

So what exactly is this course about, and who’s it for? Over 10 weeks, you’ll deepen your understanding of the concept of moral injury, get exposure to the current research in the field, and have access to two of the leading experts in moral injury: Dr. Rita Nakashima Brock & Dr. Joseph Wiinikka-Lydon. You will also learn from professional peers in discussion groups and practicums that teach peer-facilitated, collective support methods for moral recovery and healing. The course culminates in a capstone project, where learners have a chance to integrate what they’ve learned into their current professional practice, write on emerging ideas sparked by the course, and aid in professional writing for publication. Capstones are presented for comment by peers, and you receive written comments from either Dr. Brock or Dr. Wiinikka-Lydon. It’s a chance to get consultation from leading experts you won’t get anywhere else?

Past participants have come from the following professions: medicine, psychology, social work, philosophy, non-profit organizations, education, chaplaincy, and clergy. Professional contexts include: healthcare, military/military veterans, universities/colleges, high schools, prisons, PhD and Master’s degree students, and religious institutions. Our program has drawn international interest, and we’ve had participants from across the globe!

There’s more information about the course on the registration site as well. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to leave a comment on this post, and I’ll be happy to answer them!

As a religious leader and chaplain, I appreciate any effort that improves care and healing for those suffering from moral distress and injury. Researchers in moral and positive psychology have examined the diminished capacity of younger generations to cope with daily life. Theologians and faith leaders have also explored cultural and societal changes that have diminished religion and spirituality as sources of coping. This work has led to improved efforts to provide holistic psychological care. At the same time, some feel that not enough has been done, creating adversarial relationships between professions. Rather than revisiting those ongoing debates, I want to discuss the problem of pathologizing everyday suffering and what this might mean for how we think about religion and spirituality’s role in building moral resilience. To explain this, I offer the following case study.

I recently had a clergy colleague of mine reach out with a question. “How do you know when a ‘mental health issue’ is really about mental health?” They explained further: they work on a university campus and had recently run their spring break retreat for a group of students. My colleague planned a week of intentional community: simple living, fellowship, worship, prayer, silence, and reflection with others. While most of the group was excited and invested themselves in the retreat, a few students seemed anxious and started to withdraw. My colleague initially thought the students weren’t feeling included, and so they made attempts to make them feel more open and comfortable. That just made them withdraw further. Confused and growing a bit frustrated, my colleague engaged the students to understand why. However, the students were unable to do so. All they could repeat were statements like “This isn’t what I expected,” “I just don’t understand why we have to do this,” and “I just have so much anxiety right now.” My colleague observed that it wasn’t just that their experience differed from their expectations; they looked clearly distressed. “Maybe I need to bring a licensed counselor along next time,” they said.

I have no doubt that for these young people, their experience was not just uncomfortable, but painful. That was confirmed by my colleague, who was more confused than frustrated by them. Therefore, I don’t see the students’ reaction as willful resistance, but rather as a lack of capacity to understand their pain beyond seeing it as something to avoid and eliminate. This is the problem that pathologizing everyday experiences of pain and suffering causes. When everyday experiences are viewed as strictly mental health issues, they are left to the individual to cope with. Understood only through the pain they cause, the logical solution is to eliminate or avoid them. Ultimately, for these individuals, because the retreat was simultaneously the cause of their pain and was unable to alleviate it, its practices were viewed as nothing more than an obligation.

Pathologizing these and other experiences like them not only marginalizes the possibility of religion and spirituality as therapeutic alternatives but also limits, if not prevents, the building of moral resilience. Moral resilience is the ability to synthesize one’s experience within a robust framework or system that provides an anchor for comparison, exploration, and reflection. Without this developed personal character, moral compass, or orientation, it becomes difficult, if not impossible, to explore these experiences for meaning, values, and agency. Moral resilience is crucial for gaining clarity within the complexities of life, rather than reducing it to simple therapeutic terms.

What about the issue of religion and spirituality’s role in building moral resilience? For those like me who find value in them, it will be easy to see how longstanding faith practices and tenets can help build moral resilience. At the same time, I will offer that their merits are not based on assimilating people to undisputed knowledge claims or dogmatic beliefs. Instead, religious and spiritual practices enhance the ability to interpret human experiences, particularly suffering, in ways that encourage engagement with these experiences and with others during the process. When at their best, they are an invitation to cultivate a resilience to face life’s struggles in meaningful ways through meaningful relationships. Religion and spirituality are an invitation for all people - not just young adults - on a journey of building moral resilience that resists pathologizing life.

The CPE student raises an important question. The prevailing understanding of moral injury is that it leads to negative thoughts, emotions, and behaviors that affect individual flourishing. This understanding creates a tendency to pathologize all forms of moral suffering. Moral injury becomes a catchall term, thus losing its distinctiveness and importance. Furthermore, pathologizing and overusing the term makes it very difficult to envision how moral injury can be a useful concept outside of medical and therapeutic paradigms. Is there a way to envision moral injury’s utility, especially for leadership development and thriving organizational cultures?

“In instances where one’s moral identity cannot assimilate or accommodate the experiences within that situation, moral stress is generated as a challenge for meaning-making and adaptation toward a modified moral identity that can reconcile within the environment. However, one’s moral identity is not solely a matter of brain cognition but rather is contained by one’s embodied knowledge….Moral stress is a physiological response to identity-threatening circumstances; therefore, moral stress must not be regarded as a failure to thrive but rather a whole self moving toward finding new ways to survive and inhabit a meaningful life.”1

Dr. Zachary Moon, Brite Divinity School, developed the concept of moral orienting systems as a response to pathological understandings of moral injury. Rather than expressing and understanding moral injury in purely cognitive/behavioral terms, moral orienting systems call for examination of the fundamental systems and experiences that ground and shape one’s moral worldview. Moral injury arises when one’s moral orienting system is limited or unable to reconcile moral challenges that arise within one’s experience. At the same time, moral orienting systems can also be a source of resiliency and recovery, providing a reference point for meaning-making and positive relationships. Grounded in Moon’s experience as a military chaplain and ongoing work in interdisciplinary approaches to moral injury, the concept of moral orienting systems offers an expansive way to address moral injury beyond medical models.2 Moon writes, “One’s moral orienting system is simultaneously idealistic and practical, a dynamic interplay between one’s desires, hopes, and expectations and one’s experiences in various situations.”3

I’m interested in the durability and adaptability of moral orienting systems under varying degrees of moral suffering. Concretely, how does moral suffering affect, alter, or erode one’s moral orienting system, and does that affect the ability to decide and act morally? For communities, organizations, and those who lead them, this is a crucial question. Experiences that lead to the deformation of a moral orientation system may render a community or individual unable or unwilling to be moral in situations they would normally be able to be moral in, similar to Shay’s witnessing of the “undoing of character” in previously good Vietnam veterans.4 Deformed or undone moral orienting systems may put oneself and others at further risk for harm and moral suffering, including moral injury.

This provides a means to respond to the CPE student’s questions raised at the beginning of this post. We can map moral suffering across varying levels of severity, specifically in terms of how it impacts individual and communal moral orienting systems. More descriptive than evidence-based, I hope what follows helps leaders envision how understanding degrees of moral suffering, including moral injury, can lead to a more just, safe, and thriving society.

Graphic Credit: Rita Nakashima Brock, 2023 Lecture “Unbinding Souls: The Use of Ritual in Moral Injury” (Durham University, International Centre for Moral Injury).

Moral Discomfort. In many ways, moral discomfort isn’t much different from the moral challenges people and communities face every day. However, moral discomfort can reach a level that leads to uncertainty or confusion about how to act. It can cause leaders and organizations to freeze or make further misjudgments. It can cause us to question what others are saying and doing. The experience of moral discomfort can be quite painful, although not completely debilitating. One can still discern right from wrong and act accordingly.

Moral discomfort can be described as “bruising.”5 Like a physical bruise, moral discomfort is visible and painful, but, depending on one’s tolerance level, isn’t debilitating. With regard to moral orienting systems, moral discomfort amplifies it; one becomes aware that one's experience is in conflict with it and that it needs to be addressed. However, this implies a level of resiliency of the moral orienting system to deal with the conflict. Pathways to recovery that resolve the moral discomfort are straightforward (although not always easy).

Moral distress. In a previous military assignment, I served under an extremely toxic and unethical leader. Everyone in the unit witnessed his transgressions and, at times, was subjected to them. The distress we experienced affected our daily functioning as a team and as individuals, affecting our overall well-being. The experience was quite painful and, at times, felt unbearable. Yet another effect emerged, perhaps more serious. To avoid, minimize, or manage the pain, people, including myself, began making moral compromises. People who were normally courageous and trusted remained complicit and silent. Others began to hide mistakes that would normally be reported. Trust and cohesion were eroded as people’s actions were interpreted with suspicion and ill intent.

Moral distress significantly stresses and shifts moral orienting systems. The result is analogous to a sprained joint or limb. Like a physical sprain, moral distress causes pain and suffering that necessitate modifications or compromises in order to reduce or eliminate it. Rather than choosing to go against one’s moral orienting system outright, it is changed to accommodate those actions and decisions. This moral sprain, however, without proper support and time to recover, can result in more permanent, long-term damage to the moral orienting system, or moral injury.

Moral Injury. Moral injury scholars agree that moral injury is the most extreme form of moral suffering, resulting from a devastating experience of betrayal, shame, and loss that affects meaning-making, relationships, and “shattered assumptions”6 about goodness. “Injury” suggests a more permanent condition from which one may heal, but never fully return to its prior state. “Moral” points to something more complex than a series of psychic responses created by inner conflict with beliefs and values. Therefore, it is not merely about how the individual is affected, but also about how their entire environment is affected. Understanding moral orienting systems provides a framework for processing moral injuries and for how they affect both individuals and the contexts in which they occur.

I am also interested in how moral injuries significantly and permanently alter a moral orienting system, and how that affects a leader or community’s ability to think and function morally. In my experience, the most severe moral injuries lead to major compromise and loss of moral reference point. Without this, pain and suffering instead guide how one lives in the world. Whether internalized or transmitted, moral pain and suffering can cause individuals and communities to perpetuate moral harm and create additional suffering. How often have we seen organizations or leaders cause harm and yet believe they did nothing wrong? A compromised moral orienting system may be the reason.

Mapping moral suffering in terms of moral orienting systems has two implications for leadership and community integrity. One, moral failings, transgressions, and conflicts, rather than strictly willful acts, may originate in a moral orientation system affected by past experiences of unresolved moral suffering. If that’s the case, then it suggests an increased role in restorative justice, making amends, and collective repair as possibilities for recovery. Two, it also necessitates the role of moral agents who can serve as reference points in working with compromised moral orienting systems. This isn’t to “give” or assimilate individuals and communities into adopting specific moral orienting systems to replace existing ones, but rather to provide an anchor for meaningful reflection and exploration of them. This is why chaplains are effective resources to address moral injury. Trained to balance the religious traditions they represent and to provide care and guidance in pluralistic settings, chaplains serve as a reference point from which moral orienting systems can be tested, compared, validated, and affirmed.

Of course, there are other possibilities for recovery and moral agents beyond chaplains. Moral orienting systems and how they’re affected by degrees of moral suffering offer leaders and organizations an opportunity to better understand the underlying assumptions and worldviews that inform their decisions and actions, and vice versa. It also provides a means to address the legacies of harm and suffering when discerning future directions and development of organizations and leaders. Ultimately, morality is an unavoidable part of life. The better we understand the foundations for which we understand morality, the more effective we can be in creating the just and equitable world we desire to live in.

The time between when a congregation’s settled pastor leaves and when a new one is called (hired) is known as the “transition period.” The transition period for congregations, in some ways, is not unlike that of other organizations experiencing a significant leadership change. It is a time to assess the congregation’s culture and its processes for carrying out ministry, and to identify the type of pastoral leader they need for the future. In my denomination, this work is focused on the creation of the Ministry Site Profile, or “MSP.” The MSP captures information about the congregation, its stated hopes and goals for its mission and ministry, its desired qualities in a pastoral leader, and the baseline financial compensation and benefits it can offer. This document is used to identify potential interest in and fit for their pastoral vacancy, with the goal of filling it with the right leader. The transition period for congregations differs in that it affects the spiritual well-being of individuals and the faith community. The process itself is often deeply spiritual. For some congregations, it can strengthen faith and relational bonds. However, it is common for the transition period to be a time of anxiety, frustration, and vulnerability.

To help alleviate this distress and aid the congregation through the transition, an interim pastor will be assigned, either at the direction of denominational leadership or of the congregation’s own choosing. “Interim pastor” can mean a variety of things, however. It can be a pastor who merely “keeps the seat warm” by providing worship leadership and basic pastoral acts. It can also be someone who aids the congregation and its leadership through parts of the transition process, such as completing the MSP or a position description. Then there are “intentional interim pastors,” who have special training to address specific circumstances that led to the transition, such as an emotionally difficult event, conflict, redevelopment needs, or sustainability issues.

In my experience, when I’ve been called by a congregation to serve as their new pastor, I’ve found myself taking on the role of “unintentional interim.” It is not an official role, but refers to pastors who are called to congregations only to discover that substantial cultural and spiritual work needs to continue. In the congregations I’ve served in, this work has been rewarding but also emotionally taxing. After a few years, it was time for me to move on. My departure was difficult for these congregations, who thought they had called their “forever pastor” and weren’t looking forward to another transition period and the emotional and physical energy it would require.

Reflecting on my experiences and listening to other pastors who have had similar ones, I wonder if moral injury has been a neglected aspect of a congregation’s life and ministry. Moral injuries can cause the congregation to avoid or rush processes meant to help them become healthier and prepare to receive a new pastor. These moral injuries, when carried over, are why I believe so many new pastorates become unintentional interims. In the end, no one feels great about the departure, and it stresses a denominational system already facing a shortage of available pastors. The subsequent transition period ends up being longer, and, in the most difficult cases, creates new moral distress on top of unresolved moral injuries.

So what is moral injury? Moral injury in congregational contexts occurs when moral distress distorts and erodes communal integrity. Moral injury manifests as beliefs, behaviors, or actions that undermine the congregation’s core mission, straying it from its core faith tenets and commitments, and a culture and identity that no longer reflect the object of its faith and mission. What causes moral injury in congregations? I see four distinct areas where the moral integrity of a congregation is disrupted, and often results in moral injury:

• Misconduct. This is the most explicit and obvious form. The most devastating forms occur when misconduct is committed by leaders - typically the pastor, staff, or key lay leaders. However, the misconduct may not be the most devastating experience. A failure to acknowledge, address, or cover up misconduct can be just as, if not more devastating, a moral injury.
  

• Experiences of harm and trauma. Whether arising from trauma or not, morally injurious experiences are often less obvious than those arising from misconduct and therefore get overlooked. For example, a pastor’s neglect, whether refusing or failing to perform pastoral acts, can result in moral pain that becomes part of the congregation’s narrative. Experiences of exclusion, manipulation, or exploitation while participating in the congregation’s ministry may also cause moral pain. Conflicts are also potentially morally injurious not only because of what occurs during them, but also because of the loss of relationships and community members and relationships that result (I’ll say more on this).
  

• Institutional Betrayal. Jonathan Shay’s definition of moral injury emphasizes betrayal by legitimate authority. “Legitimate authority” is often understood as betrayals by leaders. Betrayals by pastors or congregational leadership, often expressed as abuses of authority and power, can cause moral injuries that erode the congregation’s integrity and its ability to trust future pastors and leaders. I’d like to address another form: betrayals by denominational bodies and leaders. Betrayals of this type aren’t necessarily malicious. Yet congregations can feel betrayed by a real or perceived action (or inaction) by their denominational body. What often turns these forms of betrayal into moral injury is when the denominational body assumes attitudes that marginalize the congregation’s feelings of betrayal. This, in turn, fosters suspicion and distrust, damaging the congregation’s trust in the denominational linkage.
  

• Narratives of grief and loss. The loss of a pastor, whether on positive or negative terms, always brings a level of grief during the transition period. Experiences of loss that cause grief connect to moral injury in that they can produce shame or guilt due to “perpetrating, failing to prevent, or bearing witness to acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs. Shame and guilt often arise when a congregation fails to address misconduct and harm, resulting in a desire to move quickly past those experiences without properly addressing them. Shame and guilt can indicate moral injury when a congregation blames itself for uncontrollable factors that have led to declines in membership and resources. Unable to imagine a future or desperate to ensure its survival, the congregation behaves in ways that are out of character with its identity in Christ.

I am not describing anything that will sound new to those who lead congregations through transition periods. Interim pastors and denominational leaders have worked with congregations dealing with histories of conflict and harm. What typically occurs, however, is that therapeutic ends are often sought when addressing them. Trauma-informed care, Family Systems, and other psycho, social, and spiritual approaches are used to help the congregation become “healthier” and thus ready to accept its next pastor. These are effective in helping people and the community heal emotionally and spiritually, and function similarly to existing moral injury recovery approaches. However, in addition to many pastoral leaders being unfamiliar or uncomfortable with using psychotherapeutic modalities in their ministry, these approaches don’t address how moral injuries disrupt a congregation’s moral compass, or “moral orienting system.”1 It is this disruption that, if left unaddressed, ultimately undermines its efforts to fulfill its mission and ministry. My focus here is to show that interim pastors and denominational leaders can address this by emphasizing the “moral” aspect rather than the “injury” aspect alone.

Leaders can invite congregations to acknowledge and learn how their moral foundation has been affected by its moral injuries, and understand how theological-ethical groundings and values clarification2 can lead to concrete, shared commitments. These commitments can create more effective and resilient ways to deal with moral challenges and suffering when they inevitably present themselves. The truth is, individuals and communities cannot eliminate the possibility of future moral suffering, nor will they be able to return to a state or time of innocence where “things were better.” However, when acknowledged, experiences of moral injury can be an opportunity for congregations to reconnect their identity with the living God and resume a spiritual journey.

Accompanied by leaders informed by moral injury and moral repair, this journey can lead to concrete ways to live out the congregation’s life and ministry with integrity and to break longstanding cycles of moral suffering and harm. Also, in a time of so much uncertainty and division, such a journey provides congregations with a sense of moral clarity and maturity not only for themselves but also for people who sorely need it through its ministry right now.

This has raised the awareness of moral injury this past year. Emotions such as outrage, betrayal, shame, guilt, and despair are linked to one’s sense of “what’s right.” Individual and collective experiences are filled with narratives of distrust and victimhood, leaving people feeling disconnected and lacking the social cohesion needed to work through differences and the challenges arising from them. Exacerbating all of this are intentional, hostile, and at times violent attempts to exploit and weaponize people’s moral suffering against them. In addition, individual and collective ethical reflection throughout society has been replaced by moral fundamentalism and the pathologization of moral reasoning that opposes one’s own views.

2025 has been a year of defining moral injuries within the context of societal life. We can say with certainty that the concept is no longer confined to an individual or group’s nuanced contextual experience, but rather, can be applied to understand what is occurring at a societal level. That insight alone is helpful and worthy of further exploration.

Naturally, attempts to address, heal, and recover from moral injury have also received increased attention. However, the approaches to recovery and repair have remained confined to a therapeutic domain where the goal is reducing psychic pain. Suffering is reduced at the purely individual level or within groups that share a common experience (e.g., military, first responders, health care). Still, these approaches rarely address transformation at the organizational level, much less at the societal level. These approaches, while effective for their purpose and an essential part of the spectrum of moral recovery and repair, don’t address a glaring need to increase dialogue and study on the “moral” aspect of moral injury, and beyond the psychic domain. Ethicists, philosophers, theologians, and others have much to offer here, but I find myself asking this question:

What is the role of leadership and leaders in transformational, effective moral recovery and repair?

The answer to this question isn’t simply “good leadership,” at least as it's discussed today. There are plenty of books, podcasts, consultants, and higher education “centers of excellence” focused on the techniques, strategies, and behaviors of good leadership. The same is true of character development, morals, and ethics discourse in leadership. They all define the knowledge, skills, and attitudes (known in the military as “KSAs”) a leader needs to possess. They also talk about the need for ethical identity (character and integrity) necessary to lead effectively. What they often fail to examine is the rationale for “good leadership.” Said another way, “Why do we need good leadership and leaders in the first place?”

My observation over the years is that the answers to this question have been assumed rather than consistently and constantly examined. This flies in the face of my own education and training as a leader, starting at the United States Naval Academy and continuing through my career as a Naval Officer and religious leader (Christian). I learned very early on that moral and ethical reasoning was crucial to my decision-making process. One of the Navy officers mentoring me said, “Aaron, the U.S. government is paying you to think before you act - that’s what makes you different.” My learning and experiences instilled the necessity of examining assumptions against one’s experience and, when appropriate, challenging and changing them. Theory informing practice is good, but practice and theory informing each other towards higher moral and ethical goods is better. That’s what leadership is at a basic level.

The best leaders, however, can instill this at organizational and communal levels. That requires a tremendous amount of security in one’s own identity, a willingness to assume risk and responsibility, a willingness to relinquish control to others, and a belief in the value of ethical discourse and the moral community. I’m sure leadership thought leaders have thought about all this, in the sense of good leadership. However, I’m arguing the value of such things is based upon morality itself - preventing harm, preparing (not preventing) to face moral struggle, and reducing suffering. What makes our assumptions about good leadership and leaders “good” in the first place?

When I stumbled upon the concept of moral injury in 2016 and have continued learning about it and educating others since, I knew there was something different about it. While transforming my ministry as a pastor and chaplain to be more therapeutically effective (pastoral care) for those seeking my care in times of suffering, conflict, harm, grief, and trauma, moral injury has opened new avenues for understanding the role of applied ethics in healing, recovery, and repair. Moral injury is a necessary (but not entirely new) paradigm for leadership that explicitly blends thinking and decision-making, reflection and action, and theory and practice as distinct yet interconnected aspects of leadership. Moral injury provides clarity and efficiency in dialogue that examines, affirms, challenges, and changes basic assumptions about what is “right” or “good.”

One aspect of 2025 I want to improve on is my focus on writing. For 2026, exploring this question of moral injury and leadership will provide that focus. Much of my writing will be situated within the two contexts in which I’m best informed: Navy chaplaincy and church leadership. I hope that others can do their own translation and imagine how moral injury can inform their leadership and address leadership challenges in their own context.

So here’s to another new year ahead! (And a shameless picture during my first year at the U.S. Naval Academy)

How does moral injury change someone? It deteriorates their character; their ideals, ambitions, and attachments begin to change and shrink. Both flavors of moral injury impair and sometimes destroy the capacity for trust. When social trust is destroyed, it is replaced by the settled expectancy of harm, exploitation, and humiliation from others. With this expectancy, there are few options: strike first; withdraw and isolate oneself from others (e.g., Achilles); or create deceptions, distractions, false identities, and narratives to spoil the aim of what is expected (e.g., Odysseus). (J. Shay, 2014)

Psychologist Jonathan Shay, one of the founding developers of the concept, described moral injury as an “undoing” of one’s character. In war, from the time of the Greeks and Trojans to Vietnam, Shay noticed not just the psychic effect, but also the moral impact of the undoing of character. Shay described this as the “berserk state” in which American soldiers in Vietnam lost all sense of right and wrong. Instead, they were indifferent to and at times took pleasure in acts of cruelty and killing, disregarded their own safety, and could not move past the moral outrage that fueled this and other extreme behavior.1

At the beginning of this year, I wrote about the role moral outrage could have as a catalyst for collective action and change. Institutional moral failings and transgressions need not leave us feeling powerless and incensed; there is always something we can do, and leaning into our moral outrage can not only spur positive action but even foster a sense of hope. However, where is the line when our moral outrage goes from being a reflection of our character to the undoing of it? How can we prevent such a line from being crossed?

This past week, I came across news that caused quite a stir, concerning two ELCA Lutheran seminaries. The first was news about a grant project, and the second was a decision to change the employment status of a current Academic Dean. The purpose of this post is not to consider the moral justification of each institution’s actions. Drawing from Martin Luther’s understanding of sin and grace, we can conclude that such actions are morally complex, enmeshed in ethical structures that are rarely unequivocally right or wrong. I don’t mean to imply institutional action should be free of such a critique; it is undoubtedly necessary and warranted, particularly if institutions and those leading them desire to maintain public trust and align with their espoused values. However, some people’s reactions to these decisions have left me disappointed and sad; their comments clearly do not reflect who I know them to be and undermine their publicly stated values and commitments. Even harder to witness is the real impact on their reputations, career pursuits, relationships, and individual well-being.

While I certainly am not equating the undoing of character in combat veterans with individuals’ institutional outrage, reflecting on Shay’s undoing of character helps us understand whether people’s responses lead to collective action and change or further erode trust and relational possibilities. In more practical terms, does an outrage response invite institutional leaders into a process of mutual dialogue and reflection, or does it foster hostility and dismissal with them? Within a framework of moral injury, outrage must be weighed as a psychic-emotional response and as a moral response.2 One’s expressed outrage may be perceived as an inappropriate or excessive response, but signals a moral transgression as occurred. Conversely, one might believe their outrage is entirely justified but is blinded to the loss of relationship, trust, and transmission of harm they cause. Thus, one who is morally injured and the resulting undoing of their character leads them to become moral injurers. The challenge in all this is our subjectivity about what is “moral” and how we perceive the “injury,” or emotional response. It becomes easy to justify or dismiss moral outrage toward institutional actions and decisions. Yet a line has been crossed; evident in the severing of all connections, transmission of pain, disregard for a shared ethic, and a godlike moral worldview that can never be questioned. How can we prevent the undoing of character? Can we?

I believe we can. First, we need to recover the importance of moral dialogue, particularly in progressive spaces. It is my hunch that so often, we ignore such dialogue because we’re trying to avoid becoming moralists, while at the same time, believing we’re the “good guys.” Lutheran theology, however, offers a balanced view, holding both in tension while asserting that the extremes of each attitude are not helpful. We can’t avoid the importance of moral dialogue out of fear or arrogance, and moral injury is a helpful frame to remind us of this. However, moral dialogue can’t simply be confined to an individual’s inner conscience or to groups of like-minded, outraged people. Similarly, institutions can ill afford to ignore the potential for outrage and the need for moral dialogue in their decision-making. Thus, there is a crucial need for a moral community where not only can such dialogue occur, but also so that people can better understand emotions such as outrage within a larger, complex system.

In the military veteran community, moral communities have enabled veterans to engage in such moral dialogue, helping them make sense of their feelings of betrayal, shame, guilt, and outrage. While processing moral injuries among veterans has led to significant healing, it has been limited by the lack of dialogue in society that includes the civilian population. Veterans often cite frustration at the lack of understanding when sharing their experience outside the presence of other veterans. That doesn’t remove the need for them to continue to engage others outside their community

Moral communities include a variety of voices, from institutional to individual ones. They are also grounded in a commitment to shared values, whether stated or implied. The point is to foster a sense of a collective “we” rather than “us versus them.” Moral outrage doesn’t have to lead to disconnection, adversarial impossibility, and the undoing of character. Instead, it can lead us into deeper reflection on the change we hope to see and into thoughtful engagement with those we need to make that change a possibility. However, in our current times, that can’t happen first without a renewed commitment to moral dialogue and the notion of a moral community.

Updates

• This fall, the international church I serve at has had a nice influx of newcomers, young and old. Folks asked for a weekly Bible study, and we started a monthly “Pub Theology” discussion group, which has pushed me to nurture a spirituality that supports the lives of immigrants, expats, and native Slovaks who feel like “outsiders” in their own church. What connects us is a common language - English - and the community formed around speaking, rather than a specific theology or set of religious practices.
  

• We finished up another cohort of the 10-week Moral Injury Certificate Program, affectionately known to us as “MICP.” It was our largest cohort yet: 45 professionals from healthcare, social work, non-profit, journalism, and chaplaincy. I love continuing to build this community around moral injury and helping people discover ways to integrate the concept into their professional work. I also deeply treasure the mutual support and aid that participants feel during the course. As one person reflected, “To have a place to talk about [moral injury] that is safe, and where I’m understood and respected has meant just as much as the learning.” The details are being finalized for the Spring cohort, starting in February. If you’re interested in more information or getting the registration details once they’re public, shoot me a message, and I’ll be happy to pass them on to you!
  

• As I posted previously, I was privileged to be this year’s lecturer for the Robbins Lecture at the International Centre for Moral Injury. Moral injury in the church context is a focus of mine (more on that later), and I appreciated the chance to share how the concept can help us think differently about models of ministry, in practice and in leadership. A recording of the lecture is available on the Centre’s YouTube channel, and a manuscript can be found here if you’d like to download to read or share. I’d love to get your feedback, and I’m curious how this sparks your imagination concerning faith, spirituality, and the role of religious institutions and pastoral leadership!
  

• The Journal of Lutheran Ethics published my article in its current issue, “Artificial Intelligence, Spirituality, and the church.” I explore the future of pastoral care, recognizing that AI will be part of it, and offer practical considerations for pastors, chaplains, and faith communities.

Musings

So what has been on my mind lately, at least when it comes to moral injury? Here’s the “short list”:

• The level of trust that exists among clergy and pastoral leaders.

• The link between understanding moral injury and ethical leadership.

• Moral injury education in preparing seminarians for the moral and ethical challenges in ministry (practical ethics).

• Moral injury peer support approaches during the first couple of years of professional ministry (aka, “first call”).

• How unattended and exploited moral injuries turn the injured into injurers (what Shay called the “undoing of character”).

• Understanding the role of legacy and generational narratives of trauma and moral injury in those who perpetrate or cause atrocities and harm.

• The role of common virtues that foster unity across differences, particularly in inter-faith and ecumenical relationships and partnerships.

As always, I appreciate your input and any ideas or questions you might have about moral injury in your particular context or circumstance. The dialogue is important, but increasing the voices in the moral injury community is even more so!

While the lecture recording hasn’t been posted yet, I’m happy to share it in written form, which you can access at the end of this post. The Q&A wasn’t recorded to foster free discussion, so I wanted to share a few takeaways that have helped me think more deeply about moral injury and the church’s role in addressing it.

• What makes the church or faith necessary or relevant in creating spaces to heal conflict and division? It is a good question. There is nothing that necessitates the church’s role in creating such spaces. Moral injury peer support, which such efforts are modeled after, is not inherently religious. However, I argue that this IS the primary role of the church. Everything the church does, from tradition to the present day, is about gathering people from all walks of life in ways that foster unity and connection across differences. Perhaps that is a narrow view. However, it is a view that is necessary and vital for the church to lean into at this point in time. It has no greater purpose than this.
  

• Who is the arbiter of what is “good” or “goodness?” Who gets to decide? That question is misguided and no longer serves the church well today. Questions of authority like this one further disillusion the church at a time when its influence in society and culture is already waning. I think this leaves a wonderful opportunity to call the church back to its roots. Authority rests in the collective or community, and goodness and what is good are defined by the same. The counterpoint is that sectarian or cultish groups can claim the same, falling into relativism. However, when I say 'collective' or 'community,' I mean past, present, and future. Definitions of goodness and what is good include the richness of theological tradition, sacred texts, and future discernment.
  
  My main argument focuses on leadership. Rather than arbiters who define what is good, they are arbiters of collective and communal processes in which goodness is explored, sought, and understood. That is routinely something that chaplains do as a part of their professional ministry and practice.
  

• How can you scale chaplaincy when it’s primarily about 1-to-1 pastoral care engagements? While perhaps not shared by other chaplains, in my own practice of chaplaincy, I’ve learned that my ministry is more effective when I help people in my organization develop the ability to minister to each other. The chaplain, as an advisor, raises questions about morale, interpersonal dynamics, and the “human element” that can get lost in an organization’s daily work. Chaplains help resolve conflict by interpreting perspectives when emotions are heated. They also help bridge divisions when people have been objectified or dehumanized as “enemies” or “adversaries.”
  

• Moral injury serves as a framework for understanding what we share in conflict and division. It is easy to focus on our differences in such times. However, an awareness of moral injuries and how they are exploited helps us see a commonality in our experience. Feelings of grief, betrayal, shame, and outrage can be acknowledged while not agreeing with the reasoning behind them. Said another way, we can connect over our feelings of what is broken or wrong with society and culture, even if we disagree with why. That is a starting point on any path to collective healing, not just with those who look like us, agree with us, or make us feel comfortable.
  
  Not every space is easy to be in, and when considering experiences of trauma and other extreme harm, it may not always feel safe or appropriate for someone to subject themselves to. Yet, at some point, a risk needs to be taken, and when people have the courage to take it, they need spaces where trust, respect, and dignity can be maintained. That has always been my role as a chaplain, and as an ordained pastor, it’s a role I feel the church needs to play in society today, even if it’s not profitable or popular. Perhaps chaplaincy isn’t the only model, but it is a signal that we need new models of being church, and moral injury helps us imagine what those might be, especially what people need from it right now.

Have thoughts or comments? Please leave them, or email me directly. Thanks for reading!

2025 Robbins Lecture

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At first glance, I swell with pride over the sacrifice of the dead, of those who gave their lives in service to something greater: to the God they believed in, the ideals of country, democracy, and freedom, and the protection of all that they loved. In my pride, I look for the familiar inscription, the wreath that has been laid, and the soldier that eternally guards it.

But then I realize that is not the tomb I’m looking at. My recollection is of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, immortalized forever on the hallowed grounds where our nation’s past dead lie.

The tomb I look at on this day emits a sound. It sounds like a voice. I call out to it, but it remains nothing more than a sound. Yet, I can tell - something living is inside it. I can see it - it’s a human being. I can tell it’s trying to tell me something. I can’t hear it, though. It’s just a sound; in fact, it sounds like noise. I see the person’s lips moving, and I hear words come out of them. Yet when I look at their face, when I see their piercing eyes look at me - no, look into me, I realize they are not silent. They aren’t trying to speak to me. They’re trying to reach my soul.

But I can’t hear it; no one can. Their tomb walls are too thick. The walls are constructed out of the mortar of politicized beliefs, values, and virtues, and the romantic sentiments and tales about war and its glory. They are sealed with a coating of advertisements for free meals, consumer discounts, and entertainment packages. The walls are reinforced by bars of public indifference, awkwardness, and perhaps collective shame - or is it simply the avoidance of anything painful? Then I realize, the shame, the awkwardness, the pain…..I’m not sure if it was constructed by others or by the veterans themselves. I sense something else in the materials - is it betrayal? It does not matter - no sound, no words, no story emerges from the tomb regardless.

I look up at the tomb of the unknown veteran, and I see an inscription. It says, “To our heroes: Thank you for your service.”

There is no wreath, no adornment. There is no one guarding it eternally, and as I look around me, I see a number of similar tombs appearing, moving. There are many. As I look around, I notice others walking by, walking around, and in some cases, walking over the tombs. They can’t hear a thing, and they don’t see what I am seeing.

The eyes that emerge from the tombs are looking at me. For the first time, I notice they look sad, almost sympathetic. It’s at this time that I start to feel claustrophobic, like the world is closing in on me.

I notice the beginnings of construction - rebar, molds for pouring - the creation of walls. The beginnings of my own tomb. And at this moment, I realize my days are numbered. I’ll set aside my own uniform; there might be a ceremony, a certificate with an auto signature, and the walls around me will be complete. I’ll become another one of the tombs of unknown veterans existing among the living, emitting a noise that no one can make out, and just another addition to an already ignored collective noise.

I’m unsure what to make of this. I don’t fear what’s to come, and it doesn’t make me angry or even sad. Yet, I don’t feel proud or heroic. I feel somewhat numb to it; maybe resignation is the right word. It’s in that moment that the noise pulls me out of my own feelings of self-pity, and I look up.

The tombs of unknown veterans are looking at me with those eyes again. And now, my soul can hear clearly what they are telling me.

“You still have a voice. Use it.”

During my short writing sabbatical this summer, I was able to catch up on some reading. One of those books was Angela Denker’s “Disciples of White Jesus: The Radicalization of American Boyhood” (Augsburg Fortress, 2025). Denker, a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, continues her background in journalism to explore Christian Nationalism. More specifically, she examines how this ideology results in a portrayal of Jesus that justifies a specific form of masculinity, which has contributed to sharp increases in deadly violence, especially among young, white men. The book has been, and will undoubtedly continue to be, attractive to a particular audience. Having graduated from seminary with Denker and known her for 15 years, I appreciate her desire to capture the stories of people whose experiences are too often left out of mainstream conversations about religious extremism.

My intent here is not to offer a book review or endorse or criticize her work in “Disciples of White Jesus.” As I read her book, I was left with this question: Is there anything redeemable about “conventional” masculinity? Namely, what do we do with the desire men and boys have to feel powerful? While not restricted to just men and boys, it seems to be at the heart of the conversation. In his work, “Of Boys and Men” (Brookings Institution Press, 2024), British Sociologist Richard Reeves writes that the politicization mischaracterizes the conversation about masculinity as one of men and boys taking or giving up power. Denker’s work highlights the fatal effects of this mischaracterization. At the same time, is it wrong for men and boys to want to feel powerful or have power? If so, then what is power, and what is it for?

I offer another way to look at this. What if we understand men and boys today as morally injured? Moral injury is a devastating experience where one’s sense of morality is upended, causing multiple forms of suffering, including loss of meaning, identity, addiction, and even suicide. It can also lead to fractures in relationships and one’s own moral integrity, causing them to act contrary to their values.1 Thus, moral injuries can cause one to act immorally, including a turn towards extremist ideologies and violent acts.

In my work as a pastor and chaplain, individuals who have suffered moral injury often describe feeling powerless. Thus, moral injury can be defined as the experience of losing power, either by one’s own hand or external circumstances. This experience of disempowerment, whether real or perceived, leaves men and boys open to exploitation by extremists. In the case of religious extremism, Christian Nationalists perpetuate the notion that boys and men are “aggrieved victims”2 who have been betrayed by progressive society and culture, and it is their divine right to reclaim their proper place in society. Extremists twist Jesus and his teachings to legitimize this claim and as a blueprint to reclaim power from those who have “stolen it,” and by way of violent force, if necessary.

For morally injured men and boys who find themselves feeling powerless and unable to realize a path towards empowerment, extremism offers an attractive alternative: the promise of power through domination of all spheres of life. Empowerment is achieved by having power over others. While morally bankrupt and not at all representative of Christianity’s core message and teachings, having power over others is still power; it is tangible, within the control of the disempowered, and a way to soothe the feelings associated with their moral injuries. It makes men and boys feel seen and heard, and as a result, makes them susceptible to extremist ideologies and those who push them (often for profit and their own pursuit of power). In the field of moral injury, this is known as weaponization (which I have written about previously).

So, what’s the way forward? It starts with accepting that men and boys, like all people, want to feel powerful. However, and especially for those within Christianity, we need to reframe the notion of power from power over others to power with and for the sake of others. This understanding of power is representative of Christianity’s core message, particularly as expressed in its sacred text, the Bible. Power with and for the sake of others is characterized by commitments to sacrifice and service and values such as humility and honor. Thus, empowerment is the process of experiencing power by exhibiting courage to do the right thing, at the right moment, and in the manner it is called for. That includes the capacity to demonstrate one’s power on a spectrum, from displays of vulnerability to those more typically associated with masculinity in the United States, such as protecting others. Power serves ethical and communal ends, not self-serving ones. It’s knowing when to be strong and when to be tender3, and having the capacity to do so, that reflects values of service and sacrifice for another.

To do that, men and boys need spaces and people to share their stories as they sort out their moral injuries and the emotions associated with them. In both clinical and peer-facilitated processes, research indicates that creating spaces of acceptance and non-judgmental environments is effective and necessary for individuals to work through their moral injuries. Similar to Denker’s venture in “Disciples of White Jesus,” we need to go to men and boys and let them tell their stories to us, and we need to support them as they work through them, even if they are unsettling and painful. Like the award-winning Netflix series “Adolescence,” demonstrates, doing this is difficult work. It will be uncomfortable, and it will challenge our assumptions and beliefs about boys, men, and society. Yet boys and men need a space to work through their moral emotions and let their innate morality speak through the narratives of extremism that have infected their consciences. However, unlike the show, we can ill-afford to wait until after extremism has rooted itself so deeply in their moral psyche or after they’ve committed unspeakable acts of violence.

If we are honest, we all want to feel powerful. Society has taken great and necessary lengths to empower those who have been previously left powerless, and that is a good thing. Power in and of itself is not inherently right or wrong, but the motivations for seeking power and how we use it deserve to be critiqued and judged. We have to help men and boys come to the realization that their feelings of betrayal and disempowerment are not due to “stolen” power that they need to reclaim in order to be male. Instead, through listening, challenging, encouraging, and accompanying, we have the opportunity to help them discover their own unique place in the world through a commitment to moral agency, or pursuing and using power towards moral and ethical goals. In light of the threat extremism poses, moral agency, where one uses their power to contribute to society and for the sake of others, might just be the right prescription for all of us. For adherents of Christianity and other religions, it might also be the most faithful act we can take.

To be fair to the young adult, perhaps DODE agents are not the best example. While just as despised as the tax collectors of Jesus’ day, DOGE agents don’t show a lot of remorse or conflict over their work. “Tax collectors were often despised individuals who gathered income on behalf of the Roman Empire. For many, they represented morally compromised people who were aligned with the oppressor of the Jewish people.”1 The gospel of Luke goes on to suggest tax collectors fell into the category of “sinner,” like so many others in society. They were corrupt, collecting more tax than required (Luke 3:12-14) and even becoming wealthy off of those practices (Luke 19:2). At the same time, Luke describes that tax collectors were drawn to Jesus and had the capacity to show remorse and change their ways (Luke 18:9-14 & 19:1-10). Jesus was just as drawn to the tax collectors; he would meet with them in public view, call on them by name, and would frequently dine with them (Luke 3:12; 5:27-32; 18:9-14; & 19:1-10).

This dynamic is represented in Luke 15:1-10, but with a twist. Jesus tells two parables that describe tax collectors and sinners as “lost” who become found through the process of repentance, or turning away from their sin towards God. Typically, our notion today of “lost” tax collectors and sinners takes the form of pity or sympathy. For example, these individuals have lost their way and thus need to be rescued and brought back into the flock, but only conditionally and out of obligation, not out of love. Repentance for tax collectors, sinners, and those like them is often a never-ending cycle of shame and guilt where forgiveness and redemption are never actually realized or offered. Considering the question, “Who are the modern-day tax collectors and sinners?” I’d like to offer a different interpretation of what it means to be lost and subsequently found, through the concept of moral injury.

Moral injury includes feelings of betrayal, shame, and guilt over a sense of what one knows to be morally right or expectations from ethical norms. These feelings arise out of experiences where morals and ethics are violated, either by oneself or others, especially those in authority. Decreased morale, inability to trust, despair, and unexpected immoral or unethical behavior are some of the ways moral injury shows up. Moral injury can also cause a sense of moral confusion due to the disruption of what one has previously known as moral and ethical. In my work as a pastor and chaplain, I’ve encountered people who experience struggles with institutional changes that put their longstanding devotion to duty in conflict with carrying out those duties. In working out this struggle, they often describe this feeling as being “lost.” A recent article in The Atlantic detailed the anonymous accounts of Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agents expressing low morale in enforcing the new immigration policy. Similar accounts show up in the experiences of Marines who were deployed to Los Angeles this past summer, as well as National Guard soldiers currently deployed in Washington, DC. These accounts reflect this sense of moral confusion in trying to reconcile their moral and ethical devotion to duty with what they are being asked to do. Similar accounts occur for anyone who struggles with resolving issues of loyalty, obligation, and continued service to institutional authority with their sense of what’s right, individual and collective.

What if these individuals, experiencing moral confusion, are the “lost” described in Jesus’ parables? If so, then they are the modern-day tax collectors and sinners. Both despised, but at the same time, sought after God/Jesus and perhaps, seeking the same in hopes of being “found” - resolving their moral confusion and feelings associated with moral injury. If we accept this, then it has implications for people of faith and the church’s ministry to those tasked with carrying out the current immigration policy.

• There is a distinction between those who set policy and those tasked with carrying it out. Within moral injury, weaponization refers to the exploitation of moral and ethical values to manipulate individuals or groups into accepting morally questionable ideologies and carrying out subsequent questionable behavior. When realized, it creates a sense of moral confusion that, if left unresolved, can lead to devastating moral injuries, including betrayal towards the exploiter, as well as shame, guilt, or indifference over one’s actions. The modern-day tax collector isn’t a victim; they are not totally innocent. However, they are exploited on many levels, including morally, and thus differ from those establishing the policies or holding decision-making power.
  

• Dining with the lost is not the same as absolving them of their actions. In Luke, Jesus is criticized for dining with tax collectors and sinners by those who deem themselves righteous, or morally superior. Their assumption (among many) is that Jesus is somehow endorsing their transgressions by dining with them. However, nothing in scripture affirms this - Jesus is simply having a meal with them. He still refers to them in ways that acknowledge their actions (“I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”). However, this doesn’t prevent Jesus from engaging with them, offering to, and accepting hospitality from them. The church is called to come near the modern-day tax collectors and sinners, not endorsing or affirming their actions, but as an acknowledgment of their moral injuries.
  

• Moral repair is ministry that creates relational space for the morally injured to process moral confusion and gain moral clarity. While Lukan accounts don’t mention any conversation over dinner, it is a reasonable assumption that it occurred. When was the last time you met someone reasonably interesting and famous and said nothing?!?! Additionally, if dinner conversation did occur, we’re not told what was said. We are, however, told on a number of occasions that tax collectors had a change of heart (See Zacchaeus and Levi). At the same time, the Lukan accounts mention that Jesus dined with quite a few tax collectors and sinners, and perhaps not all of them resulted in conversations that led to radical moral transformation.
  
  In moral repair, peer support involves spaces of wide acceptance where participants experience non-judgment, as they share their narratives of moral injury. A study of one peer support program demonstrated significant improvements in areas affected by moral injury. For modern-day tax collectors and sinners, peer support and similar approaches can provide a space to express and work through moral confusion, and subsequently, a way to find themselves and gain a sense of moral clarity and resolve. Like Jesus, these spaces are sought out by the lost as a representation of moral and ethical goodness. Like Jesus, these spaces are where the lost can work out and resolve their moral confusion. Like Jesus, the people of faith and the church are called to seek the lost and make relational space for them, especially when shame and guilt keep them at arm’s length. In the same manner as Jesus proclaims, while many modern-day tax collectors and sinners may see nothing wrong with their participation, much rejoicing can come when even one repents and finds relief from their moral confusion.

In offering this commentary, I conclude with a sense of humility. I am perhaps taking liberties with the biblical text that fall outside the norm of orthodoxy, scholarship, and tradition. Some might interpret these liberties not only as an interpretive stretch but also as irresponsibly absolving those who commit moral transgressions despite knowing something is wrong, and choosing to remain in those roles. Many have been, are, and continue to be harmed and traumatized by the abuse of power and complicity by those saying they were “just following orders.” This is not an attempt to dismiss or minimize these feelings or their experience. At the same time, my experience, work, and research have shown that those suffering from moral injuries have a need to express and work through them, even when they are the perpetrator. Looking back at world history, one can only wonder if more was done to elicit the narratives of persons who found themselves in the chaos of drastic changes, whether they might have found time to consider other alternatives that preserved their moral integrity and the ethical integrity of society. For people of religious faith and the Christian Church, I hope this opens a reflection towards a more expansive approach to justice that is both prophetic and pastoral. Ultimately, we all face moral choices and decisions that are complex and not always clear. We also need relational and communal spaces that provide openness and a way to find the answers we seek in those moments. Moral clarity provides us a North Star to help us balance our commitments, duties, and responsibilities with a sense of right and wrong. Both are necessary because they’re fundamentally what it means to be both moral and human.

That language represents a distinct shift from what I experienced as an alumnus of the seminary (Class of 2013) and what I am now experiencing as a member of a synodical committee (a fancy word for a geographical conference) that oversees and approves candidates for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). There was a time when the language of seminaries was focused on “formation,” or preparing leaders for the work of leading ministry in a variety of settings. In fact, the primary degree for individuals seeking to serve as clergy, a Master of Divinity, is a professional, not an academic, degree. The underlying concept is that traditionally, seminaries were responsible for more than just academic education. It was expected that faculty and staff were also a part of one’s discernment and character formation in preparation for professional ministry as a pastor, deacon, or other role. That was my experience throughout seminary, with faculty, staff, and students on and off campus, both online and in person. It is also why, in the ELCA, the Master of Divinity has traditionally taken four years to complete.

That timeline, combined with the need to address clergy1 shortages as expeditiously and efficiently as possible, is driving this shift in theological education. It is also driving changes in the process for certifying candidates for ordained ministry. In the ELCA, the Candidacy Leadership Development Working Group (CLDWG) is moving to a “competency-based” process. In addition to streamlining educational competencies under seminary education, other accommodations have been made. For example, competencies traditionally accomplished through Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) can be met in other ways, as long as it can be demonstrated that they have been met. It is my opinion that while such accommodations may streamline the candidacy process, they come at a compromise to leadership formation. To be fair, changes are necessary, and currently, seminary academic coursework includes education on leadership issues such as implementing innovation and leading adaptive change. However, there is a glaring omission from the seminary and the list of competencies: character development and specifically, developing a set of professional ethics that grounds moral and ethical leadership and decision making.

Described another way, “how does one know when to take a stand, and how to do that faithfully?” Also, this past summer, I engaged in a conversation with a long-time mentor and retired Army chaplain about the resignation of the Ethics Department Chair at the U.S. Naval War College. Finding that she could no longer perform her teaching and vocational commitments with integrity, she made the difficult decision to publicly resign from her position. While we briefly touched on the circumstances that led to her decision, our conversation focused more on what gives a leader the capacity and ability to evaluate moral and ethical challenges and make appropriate decisions that preserve the well-being of the leader, those they serve, and trust within institutions we’re part of.

That is where my mentor brought up the topic of profession. By definition, what distinguishes a profession from doing work or holding a job is that, in addition to possessing knowledge and skills, a professional is committed to distinct moral and ethical standards and continuous striving to live them out. The professional is disciplined and committed to the task of “walking the walk,” or ensuring their actions match what they espouse. That brought us to another favorite, shared topic of ours: baseball. Ichiro Suzuki, the first Japanese position player to play in Major League Baseball, was recently inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Listening to his speech, he references many of the qualities of a professional who has clearly defined moral and ethical standards, and strived to hold himself to them in his work and how he treated others. The speech is certainly worth a view on its own. However, my mentor identified some of those qualities.

• Humility. As a lifelong learner and accepting of his limitations, he reached the pinnacle of his abilities and career in Japan. However, when he came to the United States as a rookie, he had to prove himself.

• Discipline. He knew that making the right decisions about the “small things” affected “bigger” results and those of others beyond himself.

• Service. Ichiro understood that people were paying to see him play, the game was also much larger than he was, and he represented a whole nation. The implications were huge and generational if he failed. Thus, he dedicated himself to giving others his very best.

• Expertise beyond skills. He had a sense of his limits, what his role was on a larger team, and a sense of vocational identity and what was sacred about baseball as a game and institutional presence in the world’s culture.

The truth is, character development has never been an explicit part of seminary education and clergy formation. For generations, it has been assumed, unfairly, that people pursuing godly callings to ministry innately possessed a godly character and thus would make sound and ethical decisions as leaders. Emerging studies of religious trauma and moral injury clearly show that this assumption puts leaders and the communities they serve at risk of experiencing serious harm. As seminaries shift their focus to deliver academic education in more efficient and innovative ways, the need to incorporate moral and ethical leadership is now more crucial than ever. In my own experience and listening to the experiences of fellow clergy colleagues, I’d strongly argue that the majority of significant challenges they face are moral and ethical, and are tests of individual and collective character.

This points to the need to view leadership in ministry as a profession. Professional development encompasses knowledge and skills, as well as developing frameworks for navigating moral and ethical challenges and making informed decisions, both individually and collectively. It is about the ability to craft a sermon and provide pastoral care, but also to think through the implications of one’s words and actions and the power they carry. Faith+Lead, Luther Seminary’s center of innovation and its expanding mission, discussed the importance of leaders’ character formation in a recent podcast. At the same time, efforts to develop character cannot simply be reduced to “spiritual authority” espoused through religious language and concepts. As professionals, clergy, and other ministry leaders must also possess the capacity to identify moral and ethical challenges and provide spiritual leadership that calls people to collective, shared values that ground moral action and decision-making. Moreover, as the church urges gifted persons to consider leadership roles, we must ensure they’re prepared for challenges in conflict, crisis, and injustice, and help them discern if they are truly called to and willing to accept these responsibilities. For those of us who know well the daily challenges of ministry “on the front lines” of the contexts we serve in, moral and ethical leadership is vital to our calling, to our profession, and to our well-being as those created and loved by God.

This post will be rather brief. I head out with my partner for some much-needed vacation time. I’ll also be catching up on some reading for potential writing projects. Here are some of the things I’m thinking about….

Co-creation movements as collective moral repair.

The relationship between moral injury and national, historical narratives - particularly, how can we use narrative to enact movements of liberation rather than oppression and exploitation?

Why moral injury needs to be informing leadership today…and why it’s crucial it does.

There are a few other things bouncing around in my head, but to be honest, I’m not totally sure where to go next. That’s where I could use your help. If you happen to be reading, I’d welcome your suggestions or questions. What would you like to know more about regarding moral injury and moral repair?

This is no surprise, but the term moral injury is being highlighted more in light of everything happening in our world right now. I think that’s great! However, overuse tends to lead to misunderstanding (like trauma and PTSD, for example), which diminishes its richness and depth. My goal for my writing is to spark good conversation and thought about moral injury and collective repair in your contexts!

Look forward to hearing from you all! (If anything, you can ask why I used a Honeybadger as the picture for this post!)

As I conclude this open letter, and if you’ve taken the time to read Part 1 and Part 2, you may wonder why I took so much time to write all of this out. I’ll be honest; I have the same question for myself.

At the same time, as someone who cares about the ELCA and in many ways owes my life to it,1 I have concerns about the trajectory of our church. The theme of this year’s Assembly is “For the Life of the World,” drawing from Bonhoeffer’s famous quote, “The church is the church only when it exists for others.” There is a sense that in this time and place, the ELCA is facing its Bonhoeffer moment. This sense adds an intensity to the agenda of this Assembly: there is a need to make decisive choices and take definitive stands because we do care about this world. Substantial resources have been committed to data-driven, expert analyses and recommendations for the future of the church, and serve as the basis for this Assembly’s agenda items. These reports seemingly make our common cause clear: diversity, inclusion, equity, and justice.

Some of you may be familiar with the concept of moral injury, which refers to the devastating harm that occurs when an individual’s or group’s fundamental sense of right and wrong is compromised. Betrayal, guilt, disillusionment, outrage, and other moral emotions signal something is wrong, and when left unacknowledged and unattended, can affect our character, relationships, and degrade our sense of meaning and goodness. Moral injury is more than just a clinical, pastoral care concern. It informs cultural and structural critiques of certain realities and imagines solutions within a functional, moral frame. More simply stated, solutions are about doing the right thing because individually and collectively, we know it’s the right thing to do. That starts by paying attention to what I describe as moral injury’s “echo,” that sense that something has been compromised; something isn’t right.

As I read and reflect on the strategic direction informing this Assembly’s agenda, the echo of moral injury raises a question for me. Is this direction the right one if it leaves the people enacting it burned out, relationally estranged through polarization, and spiritually depleted? Is it truly justice, no matter how well-intentioned these decisions are, if they merely add to the stress and strain that those who will bear the most considerable burden of them? The ELCA espouses that its mission and ministry prioritize the dignity and well-being of all of God’s people. Yet, that mission and ministry is undermined by an institutional culture and structures that consistently harm, marginalize, and morally injure those it says it cares for? Connected to these questions is one of soul-searching: “Is this what the world really needs from the church right now, or are we trying to alleviate our own moral injury by ironically, putting others at risk of moral injury?”

I’ve been following Rev. Dr. William Barber, II’s Substack, “Our Moral Moment.” From their site,

I believe the ELCA is facing its own “moral moment,” but ours is internal. Do we have the moral courage to resist the need for institutional relevance and survival, and prioritize the belief that the best way to enact justice in this world is through well-supported, healthy, rostered leaders who co-create ministry with others that addresses the needs and realities of their local context? Our “moral moment” calls for institutional changes that support grassroots, collective movements, rather than a top-down, national one.

Furthermore, this moral moment calls this Assembly to wrestle with the care of its front-line rostered leaders. Both the CRLC and Barna reports highlight the significant stress and pressures on rostered leaders, which are causing burnout and moral injuries that leave people questioning a life of service to the church. Yet, the recommendations ignore this reality, implying we’re ok with this. Instead, we distract ourselves with explanations like, “it’s a recruiting issue,” “the candidacy process is slow and broken,” or worse, questioning the commitment of rostered leaders. The care and formation of rostered leaders is a moral issue. Are we willing to do the right thing to ensure every rostered leader has the capacity and support to serve faithfully and minimize the risk of burnout and harm?

The type of moral courage needed to respond to our moral moment starts with how we exercise moral courage in our day-to-day words and actions as a church. Moral courage is….

….recognizing your sabbatical is funded by congregations that don’t have the means to provide a sabbatical to their own rostered leader, who has likely never seen one.

….being curious about what your pastor meant in that Sunday sermon, rather than assuming it must be “political” because you didn’t like it.

….means the most profound display of our moral voice might be our spiritual practices and care - comforting the persecuted and vulnerable, and convicting the hearts of the indifferent and oppressed - rather than a press release or social media post.

… electing leaders, not because of their optimism, likability, or because they represent something comfortable, but because they are a person of character who exudes moral courage: they strive to do right, putting others above themselves, because it is the right thing to do.

To be a church that speaks and acts for the “life of the world” and seeks to make “God’s love made real,” we must be different. Rather than amassing power and relying on a nostalgic past, like many other institutions are currently doing, we need to be a church formed in the subversive power of Christ and the Gospel. We envision justice as a ground-up movement with a mustard seed-like effect. Through the hard work of relationship-building, local community engagement, and showing grace to both those we embrace and abhor, we overcome the powers that manipulate people into believing hatred and ignorance are the way. Subversive love prevails through the tireless pursuit of justice as daily acts of moral courage.

Envisioning and enacting justice in this way may not make the ELCA nationally relevant or sound appealing to folks. Yet, in a polarized world that increasingly leaves people ignored, frustrated, and morally and spiritually injured, perhaps its the stuff the church has always done - cared for the sick, the poor, the marginalized, and dined with sinners and tax collectors - that makes a difference.

Making decisions and electing leaders with moral courage will take moral courage - from this Assembly, and from everyone who considers themselves part of the ELCA. May we, as a church together, seek the goodness of God, and aspire to reflect God’s goodness during this Assembly and in the days to come after it.

Humbly,

Aaron