In recent months, I’ve found myself returning again and again to the language of moral injury a term that emerged in military and clinical contexts but is now finding resonance in the Church. Indeed, it was the subject of one of our workshops at our recent national conference.
Reading Rhona Knight’s recent Grove Booklet E217 Why is the Church Hurting? and reflecting on our own internal conversations at St Luke’s, I’ve come to see how this language does more than describe pain – it legitimises it.
Moral injury occurs when someone is unable to act in accordance with their values due to systemic dysfunction, or when they feel complicit in harm they cannot prevent. For clergy, this might mean being caught between pastoral care and institutional failure, or absorbing community trauma without support. It’s not just burnout – it’s betrayal.
We hear clergy speaking of being “hung out to dry,” of absorbing unresolved conflict, and of being blamed despite their best efforts. Sadly:
“I feel that wellbeing has become another stick to be beaten with.”
These are not isolated complaints. They are signals of deeper wounds.
One thing that has recently struck me is how the language of moral injury appears to have created space for those who might otherwise be excluded from the conversation. Global Majority Heritage clergy, for example, often face persistent racial offence and ostracisation. Their experiences are not always named in traditional wellbeing frameworks, but moral injury may offer a vocabulary that validates their pain and demand a response.
Similarly, clergy struggling with mental health challenges, especially those from marginalised backgrounds, often find themselves silenced by stigma. Research shows that mental illness disproportionately affects the poor, ethnic minorities, LGBTI people, and others who are already vulnerable. Naming their experiences as injury, rather than weakness, is a powerful act of solidarity.
This is not just professional language, it’s deeply theological. The Paschal Mystery reminds us that Christ’s wounds are not barriers to God, but trophies of glory. Our scriptures and tradition are a rich treasure for reflection on the art of waiting, listening, and holding tension, e.g. Tamar’s story, Jesus in Gethsemane, and the challenge of Holy Saturday.
We worship a God who was beaten, forsaken, and who died. To speak of moral injury is to echo that story. It is to say: your pain matters, and it belongs in the sanctuary.
At St Luke’s, we believe clergy wellbeing is not a solo task. It’s a shared calling. That means creating safe spaces for disclosure, offering trauma-informed care, and equipping dioceses to respond with wisdom and compassion. It also means listening, really listening, to those whose voices have been ignored.
Together, we can move from naming the wound to healing – through listening, accompaniment, and the hope that springs from Christ’s own scars.