The leadership lost its nerve. Instead of taking the lead in the

Hear the lament of Andrew Greeley, priest and prophet of the modern age, who spoke with fire in his words: “The leadership lost its nerve. Instead of taking the lead in the reform movement… they pulled the plug on it. They tried and are still trying to return the church to the dry ice of the previous century and a half.” These words are heavy with sorrow and thunder with rebuke, for they describe a people entrusted with vision who shrank back into fear, preferring the cold comfort of the past over the living fire of renewal.

What does it mean that the leadership “lost its nerve”? It means that those who had been given the mantle of courage chose instead the cloak of timidity. True leadership is not merely the preservation of order, but the willingness to guide the people into uncharted waters when justice and truth demand it. When a movement rises for reform, it is not the moment to retreat but to lead boldly, to stand before the tide and say, “We will walk forward together.” Yet Greeley mourns that instead of advancing, the leaders retreated, extinguishing the spark of transformation.

To “pull the plug” on a reform movement is to silence hope. It is to take the energy, the voices, the aspirations of many, and cast them into stillness. Greeley’s image of “dry ice” is powerful, for dry ice preserves by freezing—yet it preserves without life. To return the church to such a state is to prefer rigidity to growth, sterility to fruitfulness, and silence to prophecy. He warns us that institutions which cling to the icy grip of the past risk becoming monuments rather than living bodies.

History offers us many echoes of this truth. Recall Martin Luther, who in the 16th century called for reform within the church. His challenge to corruption and his demand for renewal ignited a fire that many in leadership sought to extinguish. Rather than embrace the living call for change, they sought to silence it, to return to the safety of frozen tradition. But history showed that the spirit of reform cannot be contained forever. The ice eventually cracks, and the waters of renewal burst forth.

Even beyond religion, this lesson holds true. Consider the leaders of nations who, when faced with cries for liberty, sought to suppress rather than guide them. The French monarchy before the Revolution ignored the call for reform and clung to the “dry ice” of its privileges. By refusing to lead in change, they brought upon themselves collapse and ruin. The failure of leadership to embrace reform does not stop history—it only ensures that change comes later, fiercer, and more painful.

The meaning of Greeley’s words is thus both warning and exhortation: that leaders who abandon reform for fear of loss betray their calling. To lead is to risk, to trust in the living spirit of renewal, and to know that traditions are not meant to freeze the present but to guide it into the future. When leaders shrink back, the people suffer, and the institution they seek to preserve decays from within.

The lesson for us is clear: in our own lives, in our communities, in our institutions, do not cling to the icy comfort of the past when the fire of renewal calls. Be willing to listen to the cries for justice, to the voices of the young, to the stirrings of conscience. True leadership means standing firm in uncertainty, embracing growth over stagnation, and guiding others into transformation even when it is hard.

And what must you do in practice? Support movements that bring life, not those that freeze it. Encourage dialogue, nurture openness, and resist fear. If you are in a position of leadership, do not lose your nerve when reform is needed. Show by example that the past is not a tomb but a foundation upon which the living may build. For only by embracing change with courage can we ensure that our churches, our nations, and our lives remain vibrant, not lifeless relics of a bygone age.

Thus let Greeley’s cry echo through the generations: Leadership must not return us to dry ice but lead us into living waters. For the purpose of tradition is not to imprison, but to inspire. And those who dare to lead with courage will not only preserve the past but ignite the future.