A VOLLEY FROM THE CANON, NUMBER 76
“BE-Attitudes for Church Growth”
1. Be faithful. We are a church, not a social club. We are a people of prayer, with a commitment to service and action on behalf of the least and the weakest. Sure, we make friends at church—but that is not what we come for. We come to worship and serve God, and to learn and to grow in the likeness of Christ.
2. Be focused. We have a mission. Each congregation has a distinct calling from God to minister in its community and in the world at large. We must know and live into that mission, and we must fight the impulses and influences that seek to distract us from that purpose.
3. Be proficient. In our tradition, it is important to offer God our best: our best building materials, decorations, altar ware, and vestments. We must be attentive also to offering to God and our neighbors the best liturgy, proclamation, teaching, outreach ministries, and spiritual formation opportunities we are capable of. We must be our own toughest critics, and our own best coaches.
4. Be visible. We must stop hiding our light under a silver mint julep cup. Publicity is part of the planning for any event. Sometimes, that means spending some money. Sometimes, it just means talking up church programs and events or mentioning what the church means to us among people we contact regularly. If our publicity attracts some folks who are not quite like the rest of us, Halleluiah! Never let anyone say of our church, “Oh, I thought that church had closed,” or, “Ah, you mean that church that’s always locked, “ or, “I never knew that someone like me would be welcome there,” or “What is an Apostople Church, anyway?” or “Hmm, I’ve never heard of that one” (which happens to be a block or two away.) --Yes, I’ve heard all of these comments about some of our congregations!
5. Be accessible. We must do everything we can to make it easy to choose to participate in church: parking, lighting, signage, ramps and ADA equipment, convenient times, publicity, greeting and welcome, plan for inclusion, housekeeping, maintenance, hospitality. We have to eliminate obstacles and impediments to all kinds of people, including less able ones, finding their way to us. If we are not willing to do these things, we need to shut down now and get it over with.
6. Be spiritual and experiential. Why is the Main Line in decline? Because it is doctrinal. Dogma is anathema to many people today, especially younger ones. Those churches that are growing do have doctrine, often one that would be repugnant in many ways to the people they are attracting. But they don’t stress doctrine, they stress experience. It happens that what we believe is important, to us and to others. But we will never have the opportunity to teach doctrine unless we offer spiritual and emotive experience, with hands-on opportunities for ministry, first.
7. Be prayerful. Are the members of the congregation praying for their church and for one another every day? For guidance, for insight, for resources, for opportunities to minister? Are those prayers included in the Prayers of the People in worship? Why would we expect to receive if we do not ask?
In summary, Be Church. Not club, not family, not business, not support group, and for God’s sake, not historical society. We are the living, breathing Body of Christ, his hands and feet in a suffering world. If we live into that, we will be Light.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, Number 75
“Help Us Grow”
People contact me from time to time with this request. “We need help with a plan to attract new members. How can we grow?” This one is difficult, because I hardly know where to begin.
Aren’t we asking the wrong question? First, I don’t get these requests from congregations that are doing well financially or numerically. They come from groups that are in serious danger. At that point, it is too late to implement any program that would not bear fruit for years. In addition, if say we want new members, but we don’t ask for help until we are desperate for cash, doesn’t that mean that what we really want is money, and maybe bodies in pews, not real and active members, who would have their own ideas, hopes, and dreams, not necessarily in sync with ours? God help ‘em, if they volunteer to organize the rummage sale—but not in the way it has been done for decades!
Second, though there are surely some “church growth” plans and programs out there that may promise membership increase, we are foolish if we think that something “off the rack” can fit every congregation’s needs or that any kind of guarantee of success can be expected. There just isn’t a magic bullet for church growth, certainly not one that can be revealed by a Canon in an evening Vestry meeting, especially in this era, and under economic and social conditions we encounter here in West Virginia and in the Episcopal Church.
We want more people to come to our church: what exactly are we hoping they will come to? Is our worship enlightening and uplifting, spiritual and transformative? Is preaching consistently interesting and insightful? Is music moving and memorable? Are there sound, effective formation programs for all ages? Is there a strong, welcoming, inclusive Christian community in regular contact for service and companionship? If not, what good is it to recruit a guest, who would be unlikely to attend a second time?
So wouldn’t a better question be, “Can you help us become a more faithful and effective witness to the Gospel in our community?” The answer to that is an unequivocal “Yes!” When we work hard to be who God is calling us to be as a church, God will send within our sphere of contact those people who are most needful of our church, who will most benefit from and contribute to the life of an Episcopal congregation. We’ll also become more adept and confident in seeking those who are more deeply undercover in our community. We can’t just decide to grow, and have that happen for us. We can, however, adopt attitudes that ultimately (over time!) contribute to church growth.
[I would certainly love it, too, if we could begin to ask such a question early, while there is still a flame to fan and kindling ready at hand.]
Stay tuned for Part II: “Be-Attitudes for Church Growth”
People contact me from time to time with this request. “We need help with a plan to attract new members. How can we grow?”
Aren’t we asking the wrong question? First, I don’t get these requests from congregations that are doing well financially or numerically. They come from groups that are in serious danger. At that point, it is too late to implement any program that would not bear fruit for years. In addition, if say we want new members, but we don’t ask for help until we are desperate for cash, doesn’t that mean that what we really want is money, and maybe bodies in pews, not real and active members, who would have their own ideas, hopes, and dreams, not necessarily in sync with ours? God help ‘em, if they volunteer to organize the rummage sale—but not in the way it has been done for decades!
Second, though there are surely some “church growth” plans and programs out there that may promise membership increase, we are foolish if we think that something “off the rack” can fit every congregation’s needs or that any kind of guarantee of success can be expected. There just isn’t a magic bullet for church growth, certainly not one that can be revealed by a Canon in an evening Vestry meeting, especially in this era, and under economic and social conditions we encounter here in West Virginia and in the Episcopal Church.
We want more people to come to our church: what exactly are we hoping they will come to? Is our worship enlightening and uplifting, spiritual and transformative? Is preaching consistently interesting and insightful? Is music moving and memorable? Are there sound, effective formation programs for all ages? Is there a strong, welcoming, inclusive Christian community in regular contact for service and companionship? If not, what good is it to recruit a guest, who would be unlikely to attend a second time?
So wouldn’t a better question be, “Can you help us become a more faithful and effective witness to the Gospel in our community?” The answer to that is an unequivocal “Yes!” When we work hard to be who God is calling us to be as a church, God will send within our sphere of contact those people who are most needful of our church, who will most benefit from and contribute to the life of an Episcopal congregation. We’ll also become more adept and confident in seeking those who are more deeply undercover in our community. We can’t just decide to grow, and have that happen for us. We can, however, adopt attitudes that ultimately (over time!) contribute to church growth.
[I would certainly love it, too, if we could begin to ask such a question early, while there is still a flame to fan and kindling ready at hand.]
Stay tuned for Part II: “Be-Attitudes for Church Growth”
A Volley from the Canon, Number 74
A VOLLEY FROM THE CANON, NUMBER 74
THE EDIFICE COMPLEX
Pity the Church of England: Established. Historic. Stuck.
Stuck with a lot of things, but significantly, stuck with ancient buildings that, unfortunately, were built to last for the ages. Over the ages, populations have moved, economic realities have shifted, and just about everything has changed—yet there sits the old stone church, beautiful, majestic, unchanged, surrounded by death and decay in the form of its cemetery. The structures no longer meet the needs of the congregations, but they are saddled with their maintenance, sapping their resources and their energies for ministry. Does the church own the building, or does the building own the church?
In many instances, we are even worse off here in the Diocese of West Virginia. We aren’t established; therefore, we get no public funding, and have no status in the eyes of the public. Yet we have the same enslavement to our structures, the same Edifice Complex. In congregation after congregation, we have a building that was built in the 1800’s to serve a rural, nineteenth-century population (pretty much as a family chapel). Nothing has been added since: perhaps the congregation has taken over a house (often formerly a rectory) for dinners and Sunday School, but otherwise, the property remains unchanged. You know them well. Hard, wooden pews jam up against the side walls. Don’t even try to kneel if you are overweight! Heating is iffy, air conditioning—what’s that? There might be no running water, and almost certainly no rest room nearby. Clearly, something happened here 75-150 years ago. Just as visibly, nothing has happened since.
We love these old buildings. They are almost all beautiful, and they are hallowed by the prayers of the generations. At the same time, they are sucking all the resources from their congregations, and what they offer in return is woeful inadequacy for worship or study or gatherings of any kind. They offer little (or negative) attraction to un-churched persons in the community, unless they are history buffs. Some need to be turned over to actual historical societies, and the congregation needs to move elsewhere, accessible to real people now. I’ve heard, in a few places, discussion about whether it would be advisable to build, finally, a new parish hall alongside the old church. I say, Hold on! If we build anything, let’s build a multi-purpose center that supplants the old, dysfunctional church. Let the old building be what it has become—a historic structure, useful for the occasional wedding, small funeral, poetry reading, musical presentation, or historic or community worship service. Let the church, though rooted in history, be connected to now and leaning toward eternity.
We are tied down by many worldly chains. Our Edifice Complex is one of our strongest ones, and in many locales, it is strangling us.
THE EDIFICE COMPLEX
Pity the Church of England: Established. Historic. Stuck.
Stuck with a lot of things, but significantly, stuck with ancient buildings that, unfortunately, were built to last for the ages. Over the ages, populations have moved, economic realities have shifted, and just about everything has changed—yet there sits the old stone church, beautiful, majestic, unchanged, surrounded by death and decay in the form of its cemetery. The structures no longer meet the needs of the congregations, but they are saddled with their maintenance, sapping their resources and their energies for ministry. Does the church own the building, or does the building own the church?
In many instances, we are even worse off here in the Diocese of West Virginia. We aren’t established; therefore, we get no public funding, and have no status in the eyes of the public. Yet we have the same enslavement to our structures, the same Edifice Complex. In congregation after congregation, we have a building that was built in the 1800’s to serve a rural, nineteenth-century population (pretty much as a family chapel). Nothing has been added since: perhaps the congregation has taken over a house (often formerly a rectory) for dinners and Sunday School, but otherwise, the property remains unchanged. You know them well. Hard, wooden pews jam up against the side walls. Don’t even try to kneel if you are overweight! Heating is iffy, air conditioning—what’s that? There might be no running water, and almost certainly no rest room nearby. Clearly, something happened here 75-150 years ago. Just as visibly, nothing has happened since.
We love these old buildings. They are almost all beautiful, and they are hallowed by the prayers of the generations. At the same time, they are sucking all the resources from their congregations, and what they offer in return is woeful inadequacy for worship or study or gatherings of any kind. They offer little (or negative) attraction to un-churched persons in the community, unless they are history buffs. Some need to be turned over to actual historical societies, and the congregation needs to move elsewhere, accessible to real people now. I’ve heard, in a few places, discussion about whether it would be advisable to build, finally, a new parish hall alongside the old church. I say, Hold on! If we build anything, let’s build a multi-purpose center that supplants the old, dysfunctional church. Let the old building be what it has become—a historic structure, useful for the occasional wedding, small funeral, poetry reading, musical presentation, or historic or community worship service. Let the church, though rooted in history, be connected to now and leaning toward eternity.
We are tied down by many worldly chains. Our Edifice Complex is one of our strongest ones, and in many locales, it is strangling us.
A Volley from the Canon, Number 73
A Volley from the Canon, number 73
The CHRIST-mass
Someone finally asked me this week, “So, are you ready for Christmas?” I was taken aback, though this is such a common greeting this time of year. It just hadn’t occurred to me yet. I shrugged.
“Sure, bring it on.”
“You mean you’ve done all your shopping, and the house is all decorated, and all the baking is done and groceries bought, and cards out, and all that stuff?” she persisted, amazed.
“It’s easy if you don’t do anything.”
My questioner was aghast. But it’s true. I’m no Grinch. I’ve just decided to give up on the futility of over-functioning during December and, I hope, other times as well.
Our former Christmas tree was huge, hard to put together, and frustrating (though quite beautiful, even if fake). So I tossed it. Now, the replacement is still big, but pre-lighted and fold-out, no longer a threat to marriage and family unity. And, according to me, it has become an “Advent Bush.” It can be erected anytime in December without impinging upon the actual Christmas season. I’ll take it down, like everyone else, right after Christmas, and we’ll move on! No “Christmas Vacation” movie excesses here! We plan to ENJOY the holy day.
I can’t eat Christmas cookies, cakes, or candies, and do Linda and the boys need them? (That’s a ‘No.’) So I don’t bake any. We’ll have a nice dinner on Christmas Eve, but it may be in a restaurant. And we’ll have a nice Christmas dinner, but not one it takes days to prepare—we’ll do it that very day, together. I do appreciate the greeting cards we get, but we don’t send any. The money is better spent, I think, on charitable giving, and the sentiment better expressed by greeting people in person, by phone, or even by e-mail.
Everyone I know pretty much has one of everything, so what use is a gift they don’t want? Appropriate gift cards or cash are always welcome, and they always fit. And expressing our love for friends and family is not about “stuff,” anyway, is it?
I’ve spent too many Christmas mornings feeling like I’d been beaten with rubber hoses. I want to be rested and ready, on December 24-25, to welcome the Christ, whether he shows up as “little baby Jesus” in the manger or as full-grown “Judge of the Quick and the Dead.”
Am I ready for Christmas? Sure—bring it on!
An enjoyable and peaceful Christ-mass to all!
The CHRIST-mass
Someone finally asked me this week, “So, are you ready for Christmas?” I was taken aback, though this is such a common greeting this time of year. It just hadn’t occurred to me yet. I shrugged.
“Sure, bring it on.”
“You mean you’ve done all your shopping, and the house is all decorated, and all the baking is done and groceries bought, and cards out, and all that stuff?” she persisted, amazed.
“It’s easy if you don’t do anything.”
My questioner was aghast. But it’s true. I’m no Grinch. I’ve just decided to give up on the futility of over-functioning during December and, I hope, other times as well.
Our former Christmas tree was huge, hard to put together, and frustrating (though quite beautiful, even if fake). So I tossed it. Now, the replacement is still big, but pre-lighted and fold-out, no longer a threat to marriage and family unity. And, according to me, it has become an “Advent Bush.” It can be erected anytime in December without impinging upon the actual Christmas season. I’ll take it down, like everyone else, right after Christmas, and we’ll move on! No “Christmas Vacation” movie excesses here! We plan to ENJOY the holy day.
I can’t eat Christmas cookies, cakes, or candies, and do Linda and the boys need them? (That’s a ‘No.’) So I don’t bake any. We’ll have a nice dinner on Christmas Eve, but it may be in a restaurant. And we’ll have a nice Christmas dinner, but not one it takes days to prepare—we’ll do it that very day, together. I do appreciate the greeting cards we get, but we don’t send any. The money is better spent, I think, on charitable giving, and the sentiment better expressed by greeting people in person, by phone, or even by e-mail.
Everyone I know pretty much has one of everything, so what use is a gift they don’t want? Appropriate gift cards or cash are always welcome, and they always fit. And expressing our love for friends and family is not about “stuff,” anyway, is it?
I’ve spent too many Christmas mornings feeling like I’d been beaten with rubber hoses. I want to be rested and ready, on December 24-25, to welcome the Christ, whether he shows up as “little baby Jesus” in the manger or as full-grown “Judge of the Quick and the Dead.”
Am I ready for Christmas? Sure—bring it on!
An enjoyable and peaceful Christ-mass to all!
Friday, December 11, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #72
A Volley from the Canon, Number 72
“TNTWWADI”*
“We’ve never done that before” is a reason to TRY something, not a reason NOT to! First, it may work. Second, if it doesn’t, we now have more information than we had before, and we are better prepared to try the next tactic we’ve never tried before, giving it an even better chance of success.
When a congregation takes some risk by putting forth an innovative effort, there’s no real harm done, even if the project yields less than stellar results. Benefits accrue just from the effort, without regard to the expected outcome. But if we want guaranteed results, we know how to get them: do ONLY what we’ve always done before. We WILL decline and die, guaranteed.
*”That’s Not the Way We Always Do It.”
“TNTWWADI”*
“We’ve never done that before” is a reason to TRY something, not a reason NOT to! First, it may work. Second, if it doesn’t, we now have more information than we had before, and we are better prepared to try the next tactic we’ve never tried before, giving it an even better chance of success.
When a congregation takes some risk by putting forth an innovative effort, there’s no real harm done, even if the project yields less than stellar results. Benefits accrue just from the effort, without regard to the expected outcome. But if we want guaranteed results, we know how to get them: do ONLY what we’ve always done before. We WILL decline and die, guaranteed.
*”That’s Not the Way We Always Do It.”
A Volley from the Canon, #71
A VOLLEY FROM THE CANON, NUMBER 71
A SELECTIVE CONSERVATISM
It seems there is a constant tug of war going on in the church: progressives want to make the church something new as quickly as possible, perhaps unrecognizably so, while traditionalists want to cling to every vestige of what it has been, no matter what. Both, I believe, are sincere in their desire to build up the church. Unfortunately, we waste a whole lot of energy and momentum struggling for either direction. There is futility in both efforts.
When conservatives try to preserve whole systems just as they were, or restore them to some ideal past condition (1928 Prayer Book, anyone?), they leave the baby sitting in murky, cold bathwater. When liberals fight to toss out bathwater, tub, and bathing gel, they often show insufficient regard for the safety of the baby. We ought to recognize that neither side is ever going to get all it wants, for some very good reasons, and negotiate accordingly from the outset.
A better approach would be to work to preserve the best of what is, recover the best of what was, embrace the best of what is in the offing. That takes some discernment, in the form of thought, reasoned discussion, and prayer. It also takes an honest assessment of the evidence drawn from experience.
The way to gather that evidence, it seems to me, may be to add rather than replace. Instead of changing what has been, could we not add what we envision, and see which works better for us? Those traditions that have lost their significance to us have a way of passing on their own.
“In essentials, conformity; in non-essentials, variety; in all things, charity.”
A SELECTIVE CONSERVATISM
It seems there is a constant tug of war going on in the church: progressives want to make the church something new as quickly as possible, perhaps unrecognizably so, while traditionalists want to cling to every vestige of what it has been, no matter what. Both, I believe, are sincere in their desire to build up the church. Unfortunately, we waste a whole lot of energy and momentum struggling for either direction. There is futility in both efforts.
When conservatives try to preserve whole systems just as they were, or restore them to some ideal past condition (1928 Prayer Book, anyone?), they leave the baby sitting in murky, cold bathwater. When liberals fight to toss out bathwater, tub, and bathing gel, they often show insufficient regard for the safety of the baby. We ought to recognize that neither side is ever going to get all it wants, for some very good reasons, and negotiate accordingly from the outset.
A better approach would be to work to preserve the best of what is, recover the best of what was, embrace the best of what is in the offing. That takes some discernment, in the form of thought, reasoned discussion, and prayer. It also takes an honest assessment of the evidence drawn from experience.
The way to gather that evidence, it seems to me, may be to add rather than replace. Instead of changing what has been, could we not add what we envision, and see which works better for us? Those traditions that have lost their significance to us have a way of passing on their own.
“In essentials, conformity; in non-essentials, variety; in all things, charity.”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #70
The Perils of Initiative
Our church’s administrative arm has recently done something relatively unusual, for us—run a national ad, in USA Today. (There was at least one other such, as I recall, some months ago.) We are used to seeing the Mormons, the Methodists, and the Scientologists with their TV promotions. But Episcopalians—isn’t that a bit déclassé for us? If we have to tell people who we are, surely they aren’t our type in the first place!
As I’ve pointed out in earlier missives, sadly, we DO have to tell people who we are. Most Americans, including most West Virginians, have no idea. In telling anyone whom I work for, I virtually always have to spell the words Episcopal and diocese. (Canon? Fuh-ged-about-it!) Those people who have heard of us have generally heard ABOUT is, through sectarian propagandists, never FROM us from our own point of view. For far too long, we have been loath to tell our own story; so others have told it for us, from a negative perspective, or even worse, they’ve ignored us altogether.
Now, our Office of Public Affairs produces an ad, and offers it for our own voluntary use for free, and what do they get? Mostly negativism (Evangelism Enemy Number One), proving that we don’t really need outside antagonists to drag us down, we can do that quite nicely all by ourselves.
I do not dispute with any of the criticisms thoughtful readers have aimed at the ad. In fact, it does not do any of the things people complain that it does not do. What we are not keeping in mind is that no ad can say everything, and no ad can be directed at every audience. This particular one was written for the readers of USA Today, not exactly a warm-fuzzy reading audience, but one that is very well informed about national and international affairs. (Designing it to appeal to US would have been pretty silly.) Yet many of their readers are unaware that we are actually a Christian communion, with ancient and honorable roots along with the awareness that we live in the twenty-first century. Even fewer know that we are not just for white Anglos anymore, and practically none know that we are ourselves an international church. Airplane passengers and hotel dwellers have some time to read a “wordy” ad, and a higher-than-average tendency to do so, and those are the readers of USA Today.
Eddie Isom is shrewd, I think, in suggesting that this ad is a subtle response to the recent news of the Vatican’s offer to Episcopal clergy (which I daresay got more air time than anyone expected it to). The timing is excellent. Right after you get your name in the news is a fantastic time to pay money to get your name in the news again—on your own terms—to double the bang for your buck! It cannot be an accident that this ad refers to grace after divorce, women in ordained roles, personal responsibility in planned parenting, honoring differences, and valuing love over uniformity of opinion.
I would hope that some work can be done on the more emotional and relational aspects of Episcopal Church membership, too. Those things are harder, though, and they take time. Mostly, I suspect, they happen through personal experience rather than through a print ad. Meanwhile, I suggest that we on the ground focus our efforts on insuring that, when TEC does get around to marketing our warm and supportive Christian community, it won’t be guilty of false advertising.
As for the Church Office of Public Affairs, I say, “Congratulations! Good for you! Now, hit ‘em again, from another angle!” If they put out enough ads, maybe they’ll eventually get around to one we all like.
Our church’s administrative arm has recently done something relatively unusual, for us—run a national ad, in USA Today. (There was at least one other such, as I recall, some months ago.) We are used to seeing the Mormons, the Methodists, and the Scientologists with their TV promotions. But Episcopalians—isn’t that a bit déclassé for us? If we have to tell people who we are, surely they aren’t our type in the first place!
As I’ve pointed out in earlier missives, sadly, we DO have to tell people who we are. Most Americans, including most West Virginians, have no idea. In telling anyone whom I work for, I virtually always have to spell the words Episcopal and diocese. (Canon? Fuh-ged-about-it!) Those people who have heard of us have generally heard ABOUT is, through sectarian propagandists, never FROM us from our own point of view. For far too long, we have been loath to tell our own story; so others have told it for us, from a negative perspective, or even worse, they’ve ignored us altogether.
Now, our Office of Public Affairs produces an ad, and offers it for our own voluntary use for free, and what do they get? Mostly negativism (Evangelism Enemy Number One), proving that we don’t really need outside antagonists to drag us down, we can do that quite nicely all by ourselves.
I do not dispute with any of the criticisms thoughtful readers have aimed at the ad. In fact, it does not do any of the things people complain that it does not do. What we are not keeping in mind is that no ad can say everything, and no ad can be directed at every audience. This particular one was written for the readers of USA Today, not exactly a warm-fuzzy reading audience, but one that is very well informed about national and international affairs. (Designing it to appeal to US would have been pretty silly.) Yet many of their readers are unaware that we are actually a Christian communion, with ancient and honorable roots along with the awareness that we live in the twenty-first century. Even fewer know that we are not just for white Anglos anymore, and practically none know that we are ourselves an international church. Airplane passengers and hotel dwellers have some time to read a “wordy” ad, and a higher-than-average tendency to do so, and those are the readers of USA Today.
Eddie Isom is shrewd, I think, in suggesting that this ad is a subtle response to the recent news of the Vatican’s offer to Episcopal clergy (which I daresay got more air time than anyone expected it to). The timing is excellent. Right after you get your name in the news is a fantastic time to pay money to get your name in the news again—on your own terms—to double the bang for your buck! It cannot be an accident that this ad refers to grace after divorce, women in ordained roles, personal responsibility in planned parenting, honoring differences, and valuing love over uniformity of opinion.
I would hope that some work can be done on the more emotional and relational aspects of Episcopal Church membership, too. Those things are harder, though, and they take time. Mostly, I suspect, they happen through personal experience rather than through a print ad. Meanwhile, I suggest that we on the ground focus our efforts on insuring that, when TEC does get around to marketing our warm and supportive Christian community, it won’t be guilty of false advertising.
As for the Church Office of Public Affairs, I say, “Congratulations! Good for you! Now, hit ‘em again, from another angle!” If they put out enough ads, maybe they’ll eventually get around to one we all like.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #69
THE CHURCH HAS LEFT THE BUILDING
Bishop Klusmeyer has appointed a small group to produce a statement on the meaning of ministry as we understand and practice it in West Virginia. (I am not a member, but serve as staff liaison, and therefore, have very little to say. Ha!)
For illustrative purposes, and to get the wheels spinning, not to settle the matter: the group began with the idea that ministry is rooted in and based upon baptism. They talked about its connection to Creation, Incarnation, and Epiphany. They drew scriptural connections. They talked about Sacrament, and Discipleship. Finally, they seemed to arrive at an idea that ministry originates in God’s call to all his creation, to participate, in unity with Him, in his work of restoration of Creation to the state of original blessing. Perhaps it is not so much the activity we do that makes us Christ’s ministers, but the manner in which we do it—transformed by the love of Jesus.
Lay persons in the diocese—this project needs your help! We need to hear something of your experience and thinking about your own ministry and that of others.
How do you describe the work you do in the world?
What motivates you, what inspires you? What is the connection between your
belonging to a church and having a ministry beyond the church in the world?
How is the work you do not merely a job, but a vocation and ministry?
What do we bring to church; what do we leave church with?
Where does your ministry get hard? Why? How? Where do you find your help?
What does it mean to be the Body of Christ, and the Image of God in the
world?
How would you do church if there was no church building?
Please give some thought to these questions, and respond with your own ideas. I’ll be accumulating responses on the blog www.wvdisciple.blogspot.com you may post your contribution there as a “comment” on this piece, or you may reply by email just to me, not to wvmission, and I will post the response on the blog. I’ll credit each contributor, unless you ask me to keep your reply anonymous.
Clergy—sit on your hands this time! We need to hear from lay folks.
We very much look forward to hearing from the ministers of our diocese. Thanks in advance for helping with this foundational work.
Bishop Klusmeyer has appointed a small group to produce a statement on the meaning of ministry as we understand and practice it in West Virginia. (I am not a member, but serve as staff liaison, and therefore, have very little to say. Ha!)
For illustrative purposes, and to get the wheels spinning, not to settle the matter: the group began with the idea that ministry is rooted in and based upon baptism. They talked about its connection to Creation, Incarnation, and Epiphany. They drew scriptural connections. They talked about Sacrament, and Discipleship. Finally, they seemed to arrive at an idea that ministry originates in God’s call to all his creation, to participate, in unity with Him, in his work of restoration of Creation to the state of original blessing. Perhaps it is not so much the activity we do that makes us Christ’s ministers, but the manner in which we do it—transformed by the love of Jesus.
Lay persons in the diocese—this project needs your help! We need to hear something of your experience and thinking about your own ministry and that of others.
How do you describe the work you do in the world?
What motivates you, what inspires you? What is the connection between your
belonging to a church and having a ministry beyond the church in the world?
How is the work you do not merely a job, but a vocation and ministry?
What do we bring to church; what do we leave church with?
Where does your ministry get hard? Why? How? Where do you find your help?
What does it mean to be the Body of Christ, and the Image of God in the
world?
How would you do church if there was no church building?
Please give some thought to these questions, and respond with your own ideas. I’ll be accumulating responses on the blog www.wvdisciple.blogspot.com you may post your contribution there as a “comment” on this piece, or you may reply by email just to me, not to wvmission, and I will post the response on the blog. I’ll credit each contributor, unless you ask me to keep your reply anonymous.
Clergy—sit on your hands this time! We need to hear from lay folks.
We very much look forward to hearing from the ministers of our diocese. Thanks in advance for helping with this foundational work.
Monday, November 9, 2009
for Koinonia, November 2009
The Ninety-and-Nine
A Parable
A certain group of shepherds had a hundred sheep. They cared for them diligently, but they kept them in their sheep-fold. These sheep were a fine and high-quality breed. The sheep didn’t seem to want to mingle on the pastures with other sheep, anyway. The shepherds sheared the sheep regularly, and supported their operation by the sale of wool. They didn’t send any sheep to the slaughter-house, though. They had put out of their mind that domestic sheep have such a purpose in life. They considered it their duty to care for the sheep, and protect them—within the fold.
As time went by, the sheep had lambs, but nearly all of the lambs found a way out of the fold and into the pastures and hillsides beyond, where they did mingle with and sometimes join other flocks, with other shepherds. Some of the older sheep also escaped the fold, while the shepherds weren’t paying attention. Then, many of the older sheep began to die off. The shepherds were saddened by these losses. They gave the deceased members of their flock magnificent and moving burials. What they lacked in knowledge of barbeque, they made up for in funeral ceremony. The flock dwindled.
It came to pass that, at last, there was only one elderly ewe left in the pen. They offered to take her out to pasture, but she did not want to go. She picked around inside the sheepfold, seemingly reminiscing about the way things were in better times. The shepherds themselves did a lot of pining for earlier times with a large, healthy flock.
Finally Frank, who counted as a radical in this staid group, spoke up.
“This is just sad,” Frank said. “What we need to do is get off our butts and go out into the fields and the valleys and round up our sheep, and bring them home.”
“Who would watch after Alice” asked Ed. “She’s all we have left, and the wolves might get her if we go out. Anyway, she counts on us to sit with her and keep her company.
“And what if the sheep refuse to come back? They’ve had a taste of freedom out there on the open pastures. They might not find life in the fold very exciting anymore, especially the younger ones.”
“If we are patient,” added Melba, “they will come back. We just have to maintain the sheep-fold, and be ready to open the gate and let them in.” Maintaining the sheepfold had been a major preoccupation in recent years. With wool from only Alice, there just wasn’t enough to keep things up like they used to do. But it had been a long time since any sheep had applied for readmission. Frank looked dubious.
“What if the sheep-fold is part of our problem? What if we just give it up and gather the sheep out yonder, where they want to be, anyway?” he challenged, knowing he was on shaky ground now. “Maybe we could have just a simpler, more flexible kind of enclosure that would be easy to move and adapt to new conditions.” He had a desperate look in his eyes.
The others quietly gazed at him as if he had grown a second nose. Everyone knew that the quality and traditional design of the sheep-fold were of paramount importance. This reality hardly needed defending against such lunacy. Frank just needed to settle down and get hold of himself.
In a moment, Ed took up the argument matter-of-factly. “I don’t think I want any of those old sheep back, anyway. They wouldn’t fit in here. Let the other shepherds have them.”
“They have tattoos,” said Melba.
“And have you seen them eat?” said Ed. “It isn’t pretty.”
“I don’t like the noises they make,” added Melba, “They don’t know the old, dignified ‘baa’ of our chosen breed. No class at all.”
“Can you guarantee that if we leave Alice and go out looking for more sheep, it will even work?” asked Ed, with an air of having played the Rook card.
Frank was stumped. He realized that there was risk in what he had suggested. He also had a certain attachment to the old ways. But the old ways were gone! All they had left was sweet old Alice, whom he observed standing obliviously apart, placidly tormenting a tuft of grass with her few remaining teeth. She belched, as genteelly as one can.
Frank knew he had a choice to make, and he must make it soon. Should he stick around with Ed and Melba, reminiscing about the old, familiar days, until poor Alice went the way of all flesh, and the sheep-fold had to be shut down for good? Or should he leave the one sheep on her own,--and his comrades as well, if they chose that-- and head out into the rough, unfamiliar terrain, in search of the ninety-and-nine “lost” sheep of his fold? It would be a scary move.
But, in the shepherding business, doesn’t one need some sheep?
A Parable
A certain group of shepherds had a hundred sheep. They cared for them diligently, but they kept them in their sheep-fold. These sheep were a fine and high-quality breed. The sheep didn’t seem to want to mingle on the pastures with other sheep, anyway. The shepherds sheared the sheep regularly, and supported their operation by the sale of wool. They didn’t send any sheep to the slaughter-house, though. They had put out of their mind that domestic sheep have such a purpose in life. They considered it their duty to care for the sheep, and protect them—within the fold.
As time went by, the sheep had lambs, but nearly all of the lambs found a way out of the fold and into the pastures and hillsides beyond, where they did mingle with and sometimes join other flocks, with other shepherds. Some of the older sheep also escaped the fold, while the shepherds weren’t paying attention. Then, many of the older sheep began to die off. The shepherds were saddened by these losses. They gave the deceased members of their flock magnificent and moving burials. What they lacked in knowledge of barbeque, they made up for in funeral ceremony. The flock dwindled.
It came to pass that, at last, there was only one elderly ewe left in the pen. They offered to take her out to pasture, but she did not want to go. She picked around inside the sheepfold, seemingly reminiscing about the way things were in better times. The shepherds themselves did a lot of pining for earlier times with a large, healthy flock.
Finally Frank, who counted as a radical in this staid group, spoke up.
“This is just sad,” Frank said. “What we need to do is get off our butts and go out into the fields and the valleys and round up our sheep, and bring them home.”
“Who would watch after Alice” asked Ed. “She’s all we have left, and the wolves might get her if we go out. Anyway, she counts on us to sit with her and keep her company.
“And what if the sheep refuse to come back? They’ve had a taste of freedom out there on the open pastures. They might not find life in the fold very exciting anymore, especially the younger ones.”
“If we are patient,” added Melba, “they will come back. We just have to maintain the sheep-fold, and be ready to open the gate and let them in.” Maintaining the sheepfold had been a major preoccupation in recent years. With wool from only Alice, there just wasn’t enough to keep things up like they used to do. But it had been a long time since any sheep had applied for readmission. Frank looked dubious.
“What if the sheep-fold is part of our problem? What if we just give it up and gather the sheep out yonder, where they want to be, anyway?” he challenged, knowing he was on shaky ground now. “Maybe we could have just a simpler, more flexible kind of enclosure that would be easy to move and adapt to new conditions.” He had a desperate look in his eyes.
The others quietly gazed at him as if he had grown a second nose. Everyone knew that the quality and traditional design of the sheep-fold were of paramount importance. This reality hardly needed defending against such lunacy. Frank just needed to settle down and get hold of himself.
In a moment, Ed took up the argument matter-of-factly. “I don’t think I want any of those old sheep back, anyway. They wouldn’t fit in here. Let the other shepherds have them.”
“They have tattoos,” said Melba.
“And have you seen them eat?” said Ed. “It isn’t pretty.”
“I don’t like the noises they make,” added Melba, “They don’t know the old, dignified ‘baa’ of our chosen breed. No class at all.”
“Can you guarantee that if we leave Alice and go out looking for more sheep, it will even work?” asked Ed, with an air of having played the Rook card.
Frank was stumped. He realized that there was risk in what he had suggested. He also had a certain attachment to the old ways. But the old ways were gone! All they had left was sweet old Alice, whom he observed standing obliviously apart, placidly tormenting a tuft of grass with her few remaining teeth. She belched, as genteelly as one can.
Frank knew he had a choice to make, and he must make it soon. Should he stick around with Ed and Melba, reminiscing about the old, familiar days, until poor Alice went the way of all flesh, and the sheep-fold had to be shut down for good? Or should he leave the one sheep on her own,--and his comrades as well, if they chose that-- and head out into the rough, unfamiliar terrain, in search of the ninety-and-nine “lost” sheep of his fold? It would be a scary move.
But, in the shepherding business, doesn’t one need some sheep?
Friday, October 23, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #68
Saying ‘Uncle’
You have one middlin’-size pot of resources, money and personnel, and you have two sets of voices competing for that pot. First, there are the leaders of new, up-and-coming enterprises, or new takes on traditional ones, that are taking off. They have energy and drive, they have exciting leadership, and they are gathering momentum. They will probably prosper whether they get further assistance or not, but they will certainly benefit from some help right now, and it could make a crucial difference. Second, there are the leaders of declining congregations or projects. Dull and uninspiring, they are down to the dregs, in energy and money. They are attracting no resources of their own. Without a quick infusion from outside, they will go belly up, and soon. You have a big investment in this second lot, over the years, financially and emotionally. You very much hate to see them fail, and feel loss and defeat in their demise. As a group look at you with those hound-dog eyes. “We’re going under, and on your watch,” they seem to say, “and if you let it happen, it will be all your fault.” What can you do?
You can put your resources where they will do some good, that’s what. Apply them to the new, growing, energized situations where something positive is happening. That is where your resources will have some positive effect.
Shocked? That is rarely what the church does. We, institutionally, are schmucks for a lost cause. Guilt is our middle name. The bigger the fiasco, the harder it is to say ‘no.’ And that is why we fail so often. We pour money and energy into sad, failed projects. God is constantly telling us that certain practices, certain activities, certain approaches, are not working. But we are constantly not listening to God, for we are fixated on those congregational puppy-dog eyes.
The pot of resources is not what it was. Maybe that fact will finally help us wake up to some realities, and start feeding success rather than failure. Maybe it will help is realize that, in church life, the “crash cart” is no model for congregational development.
You have one middlin’-size pot of resources, money and personnel, and you have two sets of voices competing for that pot. First, there are the leaders of new, up-and-coming enterprises, or new takes on traditional ones, that are taking off. They have energy and drive, they have exciting leadership, and they are gathering momentum. They will probably prosper whether they get further assistance or not, but they will certainly benefit from some help right now, and it could make a crucial difference. Second, there are the leaders of declining congregations or projects. Dull and uninspiring, they are down to the dregs, in energy and money. They are attracting no resources of their own. Without a quick infusion from outside, they will go belly up, and soon. You have a big investment in this second lot, over the years, financially and emotionally. You very much hate to see them fail, and feel loss and defeat in their demise. As a group look at you with those hound-dog eyes. “We’re going under, and on your watch,” they seem to say, “and if you let it happen, it will be all your fault.” What can you do?
You can put your resources where they will do some good, that’s what. Apply them to the new, growing, energized situations where something positive is happening. That is where your resources will have some positive effect.
Shocked? That is rarely what the church does. We, institutionally, are schmucks for a lost cause. Guilt is our middle name. The bigger the fiasco, the harder it is to say ‘no.’ And that is why we fail so often. We pour money and energy into sad, failed projects. God is constantly telling us that certain practices, certain activities, certain approaches, are not working. But we are constantly not listening to God, for we are fixated on those congregational puppy-dog eyes.
The pot of resources is not what it was. Maybe that fact will finally help us wake up to some realities, and start feeding success rather than failure. Maybe it will help is realize that, in church life, the “crash cart” is no model for congregational development.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #67
THE SAME THING, ONLY DIFFERENT
Many of the undertakings I advocate in these little missives must make traditionalists groan aloud. I am often suggesting that foul, vulgar, proletarian drone-word—change. After one has achieved a state of perfection, one might ask, why would one entertain the notion of changing it? Besides, many Episcopalians do value the experience of being able to worship easily and comfortably as visitors in other congregations, even far-flung ones. In our own home congregations, we can spot at forty paces any first-time visitors who are Episcopalians. They just exude an air of confidence that they know what to do, and when to do it. A certain sameness and predictability has an appeal to it. The barbarians at the walls have not yet breached the gate. That’s a good thing to know early on a Sunday morning.
Fine for us. But, as troubler of Israel, I must ask:
1) Have we really achieved such a state of perfect harmony in our practice of common prayer? If so, where are the masses of eager participants? I don’t notice bus tours pulling up at many of our narthex entrances. Perhaps perfection in this instance is a moving target, never quite attained, always tantalizingly just out of reach? It may be that our hope for worshiping God magnificently, “in the beauty of holiness,” lies more in the effort than in the accomplishment. Doing things the same way weekly, or even annually in the liturgical cycle, is lazy worship! More imagination, more planning, more thought, more effort on our part may produce surprising and rewarding insights and experiences.
2) How can we grow if we are bored? How can we entice a short-attention-span culture, if we offer the same routine day in and day out? “Been there and done that” is not a high recommendation in our era.
It seems to me that the task of planning liturgy involves careful balancing of these opposite needs. We want enough familiarity to give us a level of comfort necessary to experiment, and enough innovation to challenge us to listen and truly participate. That applies to regular worshipers and to first-time visitors as well. Our worship needs to look and feel Episcopal, for our comfort. It also needs to rise somewhat beyond the sectarian, for any who are new to it. For all concerned, we hope our attention to be drawn to the challengingly comforting realm of the divine. That probably happens by chance, but as in so many instances, it takes a lot of planning and work to help a happy accident to occur.
Many of the undertakings I advocate in these little missives must make traditionalists groan aloud. I am often suggesting that foul, vulgar, proletarian drone-word—change. After one has achieved a state of perfection, one might ask, why would one entertain the notion of changing it? Besides, many Episcopalians do value the experience of being able to worship easily and comfortably as visitors in other congregations, even far-flung ones. In our own home congregations, we can spot at forty paces any first-time visitors who are Episcopalians. They just exude an air of confidence that they know what to do, and when to do it. A certain sameness and predictability has an appeal to it. The barbarians at the walls have not yet breached the gate. That’s a good thing to know early on a Sunday morning.
Fine for us. But, as troubler of Israel, I must ask:
1) Have we really achieved such a state of perfect harmony in our practice of common prayer? If so, where are the masses of eager participants? I don’t notice bus tours pulling up at many of our narthex entrances. Perhaps perfection in this instance is a moving target, never quite attained, always tantalizingly just out of reach? It may be that our hope for worshiping God magnificently, “in the beauty of holiness,” lies more in the effort than in the accomplishment. Doing things the same way weekly, or even annually in the liturgical cycle, is lazy worship! More imagination, more planning, more thought, more effort on our part may produce surprising and rewarding insights and experiences.
2) How can we grow if we are bored? How can we entice a short-attention-span culture, if we offer the same routine day in and day out? “Been there and done that” is not a high recommendation in our era.
It seems to me that the task of planning liturgy involves careful balancing of these opposite needs. We want enough familiarity to give us a level of comfort necessary to experiment, and enough innovation to challenge us to listen and truly participate. That applies to regular worshipers and to first-time visitors as well. Our worship needs to look and feel Episcopal, for our comfort. It also needs to rise somewhat beyond the sectarian, for any who are new to it. For all concerned, we hope our attention to be drawn to the challengingly comforting realm of the divine. That probably happens by chance, but as in so many instances, it takes a lot of planning and work to help a happy accident to occur.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #66
PRAYER BOOK VS. PHOTOCOPY
It does get discouraging to note visitors to Episcopal worship, unused to participating in the liturgy, struggling with the prayer book and one or more hymnals. Some just blink doe-eyed at any suggestion to “turn to page___.” Page? Book? Read in church? Later, they say, “I’d never learn how to follow this service!” (And they haven’t even begun on the hymnal yet!) So, as a solution, we have the idea of printing the complete text for every Eucharist, including lessons, but containing only those prayers that will be used on the given day. It’s much easier, we think, more user-friendly, and especially more visitor-friendly. I’ve done it myself, and I admit there are those advantages. Even worship leaders experience a bit less confusion. It does “level the field” for new-comers—they have the same leaflet everyone else does, and the same ability to use it. And some of those who would not even pick up a book will actually use a pamphlet.
On the whole, though, I’ve come down on the side of sticking with the actual prayer book and hymnal themselves. Here’s why.
• It is a whole lot of trouble and takes a great deal of time to create a separate pamphlet for every week. That is a significant expenditure of personnel resources.
• It costs a lot of money to print that much material, too. All for—how many visitors per week?
• Word processing notwithstanding, the opportunity for errors increases. We once prayed for “Edmund, our Presiding Bishop” even after her name had become Katherine!
• The waste of paper is a bad message for the church to be sending. We should be modeling conservation, renewability and recycling.
• Experienced worshipers don’t need the booklets, and don’t use them. More waste.
• Even in this electronic world, there is something satisfying about holding an actual book in one’s hands.
• The opportunity to teach people how to use the book is lost, and learning to use the book also brings some understanding of how the liturgy fits together.
• Helping someone fathom the prayer book can be an opportunity for hospitality.
• The accomplishment of finally “getting it” can be a sign of fitting in.
No doubt, we do need to be sensitive to the way our prayer book can seem off-putting and alienating to Protestants among us in worship. We can do that by a smile at the right moment, a few words of encouragement, and an occasional short and impromptu lesson on the spot. Most importantly, we can keep our sense of humor, and let people know that we, too, were once BCP newbies—and they, too, can quickly become proficient in its use. Best of all, we take advantage of the opportunity to be verbally welcoming to a first-time worshiper, and maybe begin a long-term friendship. That way, we turn our handicap into a strength.
It does get discouraging to note visitors to Episcopal worship, unused to participating in the liturgy, struggling with the prayer book and one or more hymnals. Some just blink doe-eyed at any suggestion to “turn to page___.” Page? Book? Read in church? Later, they say, “I’d never learn how to follow this service!” (And they haven’t even begun on the hymnal yet!) So, as a solution, we have the idea of printing the complete text for every Eucharist, including lessons, but containing only those prayers that will be used on the given day. It’s much easier, we think, more user-friendly, and especially more visitor-friendly. I’ve done it myself, and I admit there are those advantages. Even worship leaders experience a bit less confusion. It does “level the field” for new-comers—they have the same leaflet everyone else does, and the same ability to use it. And some of those who would not even pick up a book will actually use a pamphlet.
On the whole, though, I’ve come down on the side of sticking with the actual prayer book and hymnal themselves. Here’s why.
• It is a whole lot of trouble and takes a great deal of time to create a separate pamphlet for every week. That is a significant expenditure of personnel resources.
• It costs a lot of money to print that much material, too. All for—how many visitors per week?
• Word processing notwithstanding, the opportunity for errors increases. We once prayed for “Edmund, our Presiding Bishop” even after her name had become Katherine!
• The waste of paper is a bad message for the church to be sending. We should be modeling conservation, renewability and recycling.
• Experienced worshipers don’t need the booklets, and don’t use them. More waste.
• Even in this electronic world, there is something satisfying about holding an actual book in one’s hands.
• The opportunity to teach people how to use the book is lost, and learning to use the book also brings some understanding of how the liturgy fits together.
• Helping someone fathom the prayer book can be an opportunity for hospitality.
• The accomplishment of finally “getting it” can be a sign of fitting in.
No doubt, we do need to be sensitive to the way our prayer book can seem off-putting and alienating to Protestants among us in worship. We can do that by a smile at the right moment, a few words of encouragement, and an occasional short and impromptu lesson on the spot. Most importantly, we can keep our sense of humor, and let people know that we, too, were once BCP newbies—and they, too, can quickly become proficient in its use. Best of all, we take advantage of the opportunity to be verbally welcoming to a first-time worshiper, and maybe begin a long-term friendship. That way, we turn our handicap into a strength.
Friday, October 2, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #65
LIVE OR (MEMOREX) DIGITAL
It may be that there are more people who play musical instruments or who are trained vocalists today than at any time in human history. At least those accomplishments are more democratically distributed. Nevertheless, the great majority of people play just a handful of instruments: the Ipod, the CD, the satellite radio….
Think about it. In every previous generation of the church’s life, if the community wanted to have music for their worship, they had to make it themselves. People alive today are the first ones in the history of this planet who do not have that restriction.
There has always been a chasm between musicians and the tonally challenged in churches. The one set could hardly have enough music, complicated enough, to suit them. The other would as soon have none at all (the eight-o’clockers in their lead); or if there is music, they prefer it to be: a) sung by others, or b) exceedingly simple, or c) highly familiar and/or repetitious, or d) all of the above. But now, more than ever, the question persists: why should Christians have to sing together in order to worship, or even to have music for their worship?
As objectionable as “Christian karaoke” may be to many musical purists, I must say I have worshiped in congregations in which the music was so painful to hear, I would have been grateful for a good boom box and a choice compact disc. I’ve also worshiped where hymns or service music were so difficult as to be un-singable by a congregation (and I do read music), and also where the organ was played at such volume that it didn’t really matter whether anyone was singing or not—one could not hear even oneself.
But I have seen instances in which even large groups of people sang willingly, energetically, and well. This has occurred ONLY when the music being offered was simultaneously easy, familiar, and popular. I observe this at Peterkin every summer (note that most songs have to be taught!). I recently downloaded a free concert offering from the popular group Cold Play, which was recorded live. At several points, the audience, quite large, was invited to join the group in singing the chorus of one of their well-known songs, much loved by those present. They did, in thousands, with gusto—and they sounded good!
I see no reason why we should not continue to have expertly played instrumental music in church, as well as choral offerings sung by competent choirs. But why should we suppose that a “real” church has to have a vested choir, processing and performing an offertory anthem? Sometimes, “canned” music, or no music, would be preferable spiritually as well as aesthetically. But whether there is a choir or not, it remains the case that, if the congregation is to be invited to sing, their portion of the musical offering must have those three characteristics: it must be familiar (or immediately taught) for competency’s sake; it must be easy and repetitious, for simplicity’s sake; and it must be widely liked, for everyone’s sake.
It may be that there are more people who play musical instruments or who are trained vocalists today than at any time in human history. At least those accomplishments are more democratically distributed. Nevertheless, the great majority of people play just a handful of instruments: the Ipod, the CD, the satellite radio….
Think about it. In every previous generation of the church’s life, if the community wanted to have music for their worship, they had to make it themselves. People alive today are the first ones in the history of this planet who do not have that restriction.
There has always been a chasm between musicians and the tonally challenged in churches. The one set could hardly have enough music, complicated enough, to suit them. The other would as soon have none at all (the eight-o’clockers in their lead); or if there is music, they prefer it to be: a) sung by others, or b) exceedingly simple, or c) highly familiar and/or repetitious, or d) all of the above. But now, more than ever, the question persists: why should Christians have to sing together in order to worship, or even to have music for their worship?
As objectionable as “Christian karaoke” may be to many musical purists, I must say I have worshiped in congregations in which the music was so painful to hear, I would have been grateful for a good boom box and a choice compact disc. I’ve also worshiped where hymns or service music were so difficult as to be un-singable by a congregation (and I do read music), and also where the organ was played at such volume that it didn’t really matter whether anyone was singing or not—one could not hear even oneself.
But I have seen instances in which even large groups of people sang willingly, energetically, and well. This has occurred ONLY when the music being offered was simultaneously easy, familiar, and popular. I observe this at Peterkin every summer (note that most songs have to be taught!). I recently downloaded a free concert offering from the popular group Cold Play, which was recorded live. At several points, the audience, quite large, was invited to join the group in singing the chorus of one of their well-known songs, much loved by those present. They did, in thousands, with gusto—and they sounded good!
I see no reason why we should not continue to have expertly played instrumental music in church, as well as choral offerings sung by competent choirs. But why should we suppose that a “real” church has to have a vested choir, processing and performing an offertory anthem? Sometimes, “canned” music, or no music, would be preferable spiritually as well as aesthetically. But whether there is a choir or not, it remains the case that, if the congregation is to be invited to sing, their portion of the musical offering must have those three characteristics: it must be familiar (or immediately taught) for competency’s sake; it must be easy and repetitious, for simplicity’s sake; and it must be widely liked, for everyone’s sake.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Volley #64
Time and Place
Yet another quiet revolution is happening all around us. It impacts us directly and seriously, but most of us are at best barely aware of it. The revolution is in the attitude we have toward time and place.
Why, we moderns ask, do we have to be at a particular place, at a particular time, in order to experience any kind of exchange of information involving sights or sounds (and why should we have to pay for it)? Why can’t we download life from the Internet or Tivo it for playback at our convenience—for free? If we want to listen to all the week’s lectures at 2:00 A. M. in our jammies, what is the problem with that? If we happen to be working during the week’s big game, why can’t we watch it later, as if it were just happening? If we suddenly hear of a book or article we’d like to read, or a recording we’d like to listen to, why can’t we have access to it right now, in our own home? If we have to change clothes, drive to the Mall, enter a store, and buy the thing, we’d just as soon do without—our attention will be on something else by then, anyway! And what is this fixation the church has on 10:30 Sunday morning (or 8:00, or 9:00, or 11:00, or any fixed hour), during prime sleeping time (it’s always prime sleeping time for somebody)? Sure, I should say my prayers: but why not say them when I feel like it, and where I happen to be? Does God show up at one location at a certain time once a week with hearing aid in place?
Because, one may respond, the Church is Ecclesia, “the gathering.” We aren’t like Hindus, for example, who can show up at a temple, any convenient temple, at any convenient time, or even use the one we’ve set up in our home for that matter, to offer our sacrifice to the deity. We say our private prayers, of course, but they are just that—they are not liturgy, not worship, which is something the gathered community does together. We need our private prayers, but we need Common Prayer, as well.
These are two ships passing in the night, I fear. They are heading opposite directions, and they have no means of communicating with one another. It is no good telling a prevailing culture, which does not understand our quaint language, and which is not listening anyway, how it ought to be. If anyone is to adapt, it must be the one who actually desires to be heard and understood. That would be us, since we do hope to continue to proclaim Good News to a world which continues to suffer brokenness.
Try to get that world to sit down with us on a hard pew and sing unfamiliar songs just because it’s 11:00 Sunday morning!
We’ll never get around to “worship on demand,” not in my lifetime. We need to think of ways we can accommodate worship at more accessible times, though—not so the same handful can be guilted into attending more services, but so that more of the church—and people not yet of the church-- can be gathered for worship sometime. Why not consider a Saturday evening alternative, or Sunday late afternoon? God is awake then, too.
Yet another quiet revolution is happening all around us. It impacts us directly and seriously, but most of us are at best barely aware of it. The revolution is in the attitude we have toward time and place.
Why, we moderns ask, do we have to be at a particular place, at a particular time, in order to experience any kind of exchange of information involving sights or sounds (and why should we have to pay for it)? Why can’t we download life from the Internet or Tivo it for playback at our convenience—for free? If we want to listen to all the week’s lectures at 2:00 A. M. in our jammies, what is the problem with that? If we happen to be working during the week’s big game, why can’t we watch it later, as if it were just happening? If we suddenly hear of a book or article we’d like to read, or a recording we’d like to listen to, why can’t we have access to it right now, in our own home? If we have to change clothes, drive to the Mall, enter a store, and buy the thing, we’d just as soon do without—our attention will be on something else by then, anyway! And what is this fixation the church has on 10:30 Sunday morning (or 8:00, or 9:00, or 11:00, or any fixed hour), during prime sleeping time (it’s always prime sleeping time for somebody)? Sure, I should say my prayers: but why not say them when I feel like it, and where I happen to be? Does God show up at one location at a certain time once a week with hearing aid in place?
Because, one may respond, the Church is Ecclesia, “the gathering.” We aren’t like Hindus, for example, who can show up at a temple, any convenient temple, at any convenient time, or even use the one we’ve set up in our home for that matter, to offer our sacrifice to the deity. We say our private prayers, of course, but they are just that—they are not liturgy, not worship, which is something the gathered community does together. We need our private prayers, but we need Common Prayer, as well.
These are two ships passing in the night, I fear. They are heading opposite directions, and they have no means of communicating with one another. It is no good telling a prevailing culture, which does not understand our quaint language, and which is not listening anyway, how it ought to be. If anyone is to adapt, it must be the one who actually desires to be heard and understood. That would be us, since we do hope to continue to proclaim Good News to a world which continues to suffer brokenness.
Try to get that world to sit down with us on a hard pew and sing unfamiliar songs just because it’s 11:00 Sunday morning!
We’ll never get around to “worship on demand,” not in my lifetime. We need to think of ways we can accommodate worship at more accessible times, though—not so the same handful can be guilted into attending more services, but so that more of the church—and people not yet of the church-- can be gathered for worship sometime. Why not consider a Saturday evening alternative, or Sunday late afternoon? God is awake then, too.
Volley # 63
THOSE PESKY RUBRICS
We have a quandary. On the one hand, we want our worship to be contemporary, flexible, responsive, interesting, and relevant to people’s lives. We want to be inclusive of lay people of all ages, to all manner and condition of people, and affirming to their gifts and ministries. We certainly do not want to be stodgy, formal in the stilted sense, clergy-centered, rote, or archaic.
At the same time, we hear from those who travel how important it is to them that Episcopal worship the world over has a certain Anglican predictability about it. When we visit, we feel at home somehow, because we can slip right into the worship of a congregation-- certainly when we hear the old Cranmerian cadences of the Book of Common Prayer, but sometimes even when it is non-English-speaking-- and recognize the familiar patterns of the liturgy.
I am discovering in my travels that ALL Episcopal clergy consider themselves to be experts at liturgical innovation. We think that we have brilliant, creative, inspired ideas to enliven and deepen our congregations’ worship. How can I put this delicately: most of us are deluding ourselves. Often, the result is just quirky. We’d be far better off to pick a liturgical style, of which there are several normative ones out there, and stick with it.
My suggestions for liturgical creativity are, that before beginning, we ask ourselves seriously what our aim is, and be very clear about that. Second, that we rehearse the congregation carefully, making sure it is clear to them what we are doing, and that all are prepared for their own role in the liturgy. Third, it is important to evaluate the activity: did it accomplish the desired effect, and were there any unexpected, troublesome side effects? Should it be considered a permanent or occasional worship innovation for the congregation? Can a guest priest easily pick up on it? Is it meaningful to most, or simply eccentric?
One more consideration should overshadow all of the above, however. Is the practice being considered in accordance with the prayer book rubrics and the diocesan policy for public worship? Those traditions have a purpose, and they are not mere suggestions. They set up reasonable norms that apply to all. They keep us Episcopal.
We have a quandary. On the one hand, we want our worship to be contemporary, flexible, responsive, interesting, and relevant to people’s lives. We want to be inclusive of lay people of all ages, to all manner and condition of people, and affirming to their gifts and ministries. We certainly do not want to be stodgy, formal in the stilted sense, clergy-centered, rote, or archaic.
At the same time, we hear from those who travel how important it is to them that Episcopal worship the world over has a certain Anglican predictability about it. When we visit, we feel at home somehow, because we can slip right into the worship of a congregation-- certainly when we hear the old Cranmerian cadences of the Book of Common Prayer, but sometimes even when it is non-English-speaking-- and recognize the familiar patterns of the liturgy.
I am discovering in my travels that ALL Episcopal clergy consider themselves to be experts at liturgical innovation. We think that we have brilliant, creative, inspired ideas to enliven and deepen our congregations’ worship. How can I put this delicately: most of us are deluding ourselves. Often, the result is just quirky. We’d be far better off to pick a liturgical style, of which there are several normative ones out there, and stick with it.
My suggestions for liturgical creativity are, that before beginning, we ask ourselves seriously what our aim is, and be very clear about that. Second, that we rehearse the congregation carefully, making sure it is clear to them what we are doing, and that all are prepared for their own role in the liturgy. Third, it is important to evaluate the activity: did it accomplish the desired effect, and were there any unexpected, troublesome side effects? Should it be considered a permanent or occasional worship innovation for the congregation? Can a guest priest easily pick up on it? Is it meaningful to most, or simply eccentric?
One more consideration should overshadow all of the above, however. Is the practice being considered in accordance with the prayer book rubrics and the diocesan policy for public worship? Those traditions have a purpose, and they are not mere suggestions. They set up reasonable norms that apply to all. They keep us Episcopal.
Volley # 62
JARGON
Every profession and every human interest has jargon, a specialized vocabulary that separates the insiders from the outsiders, with resulting ego nudges in one direction or the other. Church groups are no exception, Protestant, Catholic, or in- between. Charismatics have jargon (“slain in the Spirit,” “speaking in tongues,”). Evangelicals have it (“born-again,” “walk the aisle,” “Christ-centered”). How odd that we Episcopalians, who began with the radical reformist principle of using the vernacular for “common” prayer, should be among the worst offenders when it comes to exclusionary terminology, much of it Latin!
All our Psalms continue to be identified by their Latin first lines, as do our service music selections. Parts of the church are referred to in Latin terms (Narthex, Sacristy, Ambo), and service on the Altar Guild is first of all a language class (corporal, chasuble, thurible, etc.). Surprise: I’m not going to criticize those uses of terminology. They serve as markers of our identity. They help give us group cohesion. We feel a sense of belonging and accomplishment as we master them.
It is when we use those terms blatantly in the presence of non-members, without translation, that we err. We are setting ourselves up as superior, as insiders, and emphasizing the ignorance and alienation of the other when we sling such terms around as if everyone ought to know them. That means that for church bulletins and announcements, jargon is verboten. We need to use the ordinary language, the vernacular, instead. There is time enough to indoctrinate new members once they become actual members.
Anyone seen my biretta?
Every profession and every human interest has jargon, a specialized vocabulary that separates the insiders from the outsiders, with resulting ego nudges in one direction or the other. Church groups are no exception, Protestant, Catholic, or in- between. Charismatics have jargon (“slain in the Spirit,” “speaking in tongues,”). Evangelicals have it (“born-again,” “walk the aisle,” “Christ-centered”). How odd that we Episcopalians, who began with the radical reformist principle of using the vernacular for “common” prayer, should be among the worst offenders when it comes to exclusionary terminology, much of it Latin!
All our Psalms continue to be identified by their Latin first lines, as do our service music selections. Parts of the church are referred to in Latin terms (Narthex, Sacristy, Ambo), and service on the Altar Guild is first of all a language class (corporal, chasuble, thurible, etc.). Surprise: I’m not going to criticize those uses of terminology. They serve as markers of our identity. They help give us group cohesion. We feel a sense of belonging and accomplishment as we master them.
It is when we use those terms blatantly in the presence of non-members, without translation, that we err. We are setting ourselves up as superior, as insiders, and emphasizing the ignorance and alienation of the other when we sling such terms around as if everyone ought to know them. That means that for church bulletins and announcements, jargon is verboten. We need to use the ordinary language, the vernacular, instead. There is time enough to indoctrinate new members once they become actual members.
Anyone seen my biretta?
Volley #61,
THE CHURCH AD PROJECT
Since I brought up advertising a few weeks ago, perhaps it is well to mention one source of ad material relevant to The Episcopal Church, http://www.churchad.com/ads.cfm The Church Ad Project. They’ve been around a while, and their work is known to many around the church, but they deserve an occasional reminder. In fact, if you haven’t checked their site lately, they continue to do fresh and innovative work, and they deserve another look. Their ads still have the old zing, but generally without some of the early causticity that made some of them less than universally appealing.
Church Ad Project not only offers media spots and copy for billboards and print, but also very nice posters for use around the church. They can be excellent reinforcement for church members, and gentle nudges to church visitors, but they would also work well posted in outdoor locations in protected signs or on moveable “sandwich boards” for occasional use. There are plenty of good choices for variety and for seasonal emphasis.
“Always preach the Good News,” says Francis. “If necessary, use words!” In today’s setting, it is necessary to use images, too.
Since I brought up advertising a few weeks ago, perhaps it is well to mention one source of ad material relevant to The Episcopal Church, http://www.churchad.com/ads.cfm The Church Ad Project. They’ve been around a while, and their work is known to many around the church, but they deserve an occasional reminder. In fact, if you haven’t checked their site lately, they continue to do fresh and innovative work, and they deserve another look. Their ads still have the old zing, but generally without some of the early causticity that made some of them less than universally appealing.
Church Ad Project not only offers media spots and copy for billboards and print, but also very nice posters for use around the church. They can be excellent reinforcement for church members, and gentle nudges to church visitors, but they would also work well posted in outdoor locations in protected signs or on moveable “sandwich boards” for occasional use. There are plenty of good choices for variety and for seasonal emphasis.
“Always preach the Good News,” says Francis. “If necessary, use words!” In today’s setting, it is necessary to use images, too.
Monday, August 31, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, number 60
“I WAS IN PRISON, AND YOU VISITED ME”
Not.
This may be a tad preachy, but it has been weighing on my mind now for some time. I work with congregations who are considering what their mission in their community might be. They talk about all manner of service projects and activities. None has ever mentioned a ministry to the incarcerated or recently released. With few laudable exceptions (thank you, Betsy!), we Episcopalians, especially in West Virginia, are a washout in following Jesus’ express command to visit the imprisoned. We will clothe the naked; after all, we have plenty of clothes to get rid of so we can buy new, more fashionable clothes. We will feed the hungry; our tables groan with excess. We almost have a specialization in ministry to the sick; we can see ourselves in that kind of need someday. But the imprisoned are another species of creature to us. We want nothing to do with them.
We are even worse when it comes to a natural outgrowth of prison ministry, advocating for prison reform. After a century of evolution, fomented by Christian activists, including Episcopalians, toward a more compassionate, rehabilitative system of justice-- long before we had time to develop processes that would actually work effectively—our nation lapsed, a generation ago, back into a penal system that grows harsher, meaner, more punitive and less restorative (also vastly more expensive!) annually. The Episcopal Church has had nothing to say about these deeply grieving developments, because we are too busy thinking about what might or might not go on in one another’s bedrooms even to notice.
Yes, there are other Christians who do visit the jails and prisons—of the brands that preach judgment, guilt, and condemnation, to remind inmates, in case they need reminding, how deeply flawed, unworthy, and unlovable they are. Surely, if there is any Christian community prepared to reach out to men and women in desperate trouble with good news about God’s unfathomable love, grace, and redemption, we ought to be the one. Yet, when congregations are going through lists of possible ministries and special callings for themselves, this one never comes up.
It isn’t easy. Government and bureaucratic regulations, entrenched interests, and deep cultural attitudes can make for daunting hurdles. Yet no obstacle is so large, or so in need of confronting, as our own prejudice, fear, judgment, and denial. I believe we suffer from Respectability Syndrome, also known as Pharaseeism. Those locked up for crimes may not be the only ones imprisoned.
Thinking of a good scripture-based theme to build an adult forum series around? How about ministry to the imprisoned and formerly imprisoned, and their families? Seems to me there is a lot for us to learn and to share in that area.
Not.
This may be a tad preachy, but it has been weighing on my mind now for some time. I work with congregations who are considering what their mission in their community might be. They talk about all manner of service projects and activities. None has ever mentioned a ministry to the incarcerated or recently released. With few laudable exceptions (thank you, Betsy!), we Episcopalians, especially in West Virginia, are a washout in following Jesus’ express command to visit the imprisoned. We will clothe the naked; after all, we have plenty of clothes to get rid of so we can buy new, more fashionable clothes. We will feed the hungry; our tables groan with excess. We almost have a specialization in ministry to the sick; we can see ourselves in that kind of need someday. But the imprisoned are another species of creature to us. We want nothing to do with them.
We are even worse when it comes to a natural outgrowth of prison ministry, advocating for prison reform. After a century of evolution, fomented by Christian activists, including Episcopalians, toward a more compassionate, rehabilitative system of justice-- long before we had time to develop processes that would actually work effectively—our nation lapsed, a generation ago, back into a penal system that grows harsher, meaner, more punitive and less restorative (also vastly more expensive!) annually. The Episcopal Church has had nothing to say about these deeply grieving developments, because we are too busy thinking about what might or might not go on in one another’s bedrooms even to notice.
Yes, there are other Christians who do visit the jails and prisons—of the brands that preach judgment, guilt, and condemnation, to remind inmates, in case they need reminding, how deeply flawed, unworthy, and unlovable they are. Surely, if there is any Christian community prepared to reach out to men and women in desperate trouble with good news about God’s unfathomable love, grace, and redemption, we ought to be the one. Yet, when congregations are going through lists of possible ministries and special callings for themselves, this one never comes up.
It isn’t easy. Government and bureaucratic regulations, entrenched interests, and deep cultural attitudes can make for daunting hurdles. Yet no obstacle is so large, or so in need of confronting, as our own prejudice, fear, judgment, and denial. I believe we suffer from Respectability Syndrome, also known as Pharaseeism. Those locked up for crimes may not be the only ones imprisoned.
Thinking of a good scripture-based theme to build an adult forum series around? How about ministry to the imprisoned and formerly imprisoned, and their families? Seems to me there is a lot for us to learn and to share in that area.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #58
A VOLLEY FROM THE CANON
#58 ADVERTISING AND CHURCH
Lobbyists and elected officials would have us believe that there is no quid pro quo attached to the hefty campaign contributions of special interest groups. Sometimes advertisers, when they come under criticism for it, even claim that their ads, blatantly directed at children or other groups, aren’t really expected to have any effect on consumers’ buying habits. Yeah, right. The fact is that those people choose to spend money in those ways because it works: they get far more out of their investments than they put into them (and we’re talking substantial sums, here).
Churches, as denominations and as congregations, need to heed the example of the world around us. We tend to rely on word of mouth, and indeed, word of mouth is a very effective form of communication, albeit a small-scale one. (What a shame so many of us are too restrained even to use word-of-mouth!) We have eschewed advertising, except those notices on the religion page, which only reach already-religious people, as being somehow beneath our dignity, much like the attitude of medical and legal professionals, who populate our vestries. Have you noticed—even dentists and lawyers often have ads on radio and TV today, and formerly staid medical offices may have huge, brightly lit signs announcing their whereabouts. Dignity, schmignity. Advertising works.
Churches must go about it somewhat differently, however. A customer can drop in on McDonald’s any day of the year, and maybe even any hour of the day. Not so with churches. We welcome guests only during those times we are holding worship or other events. Our advertising is mostly of the public relations sort, reminding people that we are still here, still active in their community, and open, despite what they might have heard from our detractors, to welcoming even them, no matter what category of human being that might be. Some people may not even realize that there is help for their own condition, though, unless we tell them—much like some don’t fathom that they would really like a slice of delicious pizza until they see one illustrated on a billboard or a TV ad.
Does your congregation have a budget line item for advertising? What would happen to a business in your community that did not advertise? Advertising is evangelism. Smart advertising is effective evangelism. We have good news to share, and there is a variety of ways in which to share it. Letting people know who we are, what we stand for, what we have to offer is not an option for a church that is serious about its mission. It is a gospel imperative.
#58 ADVERTISING AND CHURCH
Lobbyists and elected officials would have us believe that there is no quid pro quo attached to the hefty campaign contributions of special interest groups. Sometimes advertisers, when they come under criticism for it, even claim that their ads, blatantly directed at children or other groups, aren’t really expected to have any effect on consumers’ buying habits. Yeah, right. The fact is that those people choose to spend money in those ways because it works: they get far more out of their investments than they put into them (and we’re talking substantial sums, here).
Churches, as denominations and as congregations, need to heed the example of the world around us. We tend to rely on word of mouth, and indeed, word of mouth is a very effective form of communication, albeit a small-scale one. (What a shame so many of us are too restrained even to use word-of-mouth!) We have eschewed advertising, except those notices on the religion page, which only reach already-religious people, as being somehow beneath our dignity, much like the attitude of medical and legal professionals, who populate our vestries. Have you noticed—even dentists and lawyers often have ads on radio and TV today, and formerly staid medical offices may have huge, brightly lit signs announcing their whereabouts. Dignity, schmignity. Advertising works.
Churches must go about it somewhat differently, however. A customer can drop in on McDonald’s any day of the year, and maybe even any hour of the day. Not so with churches. We welcome guests only during those times we are holding worship or other events. Our advertising is mostly of the public relations sort, reminding people that we are still here, still active in their community, and open, despite what they might have heard from our detractors, to welcoming even them, no matter what category of human being that might be. Some people may not even realize that there is help for their own condition, though, unless we tell them—much like some don’t fathom that they would really like a slice of delicious pizza until they see one illustrated on a billboard or a TV ad.
Does your congregation have a budget line item for advertising? What would happen to a business in your community that did not advertise? Advertising is evangelism. Smart advertising is effective evangelism. We have good news to share, and there is a variety of ways in which to share it. Letting people know who we are, what we stand for, what we have to offer is not an option for a church that is serious about its mission. It is a gospel imperative.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
for "Koinonea" August 09 The Besetting Sin
THE BESETTING SIN
Study of the Enneagram indicates that each of us has a “besetting sin,” a sort of innate fall-back position we cling to by habit or reflex. We come by it naturally, or have chosen it so early in life that we don’t remember the choice. It seems to work for us. We’re quite capable of committing all the other sins; it’s just that this one is our favorite. It is part of who we are. We don’t usually consider it to be a sin. In fact, we tend to value it as normal, and assume others must feel the same way about it, or would if they were as well-informed as we are. Of course, in fact, they have their own, which may be different, and they hold to theirs just as strongly. Unfortunately, the besetting sin is still a sin, and it harms us, because it limits our field of choices. It forces us to look at life through its prism alone, and therefore to see only its spectrum of colors. We see our world through our sin-colored glasses.
I am of the opinion that Christian denominations (and I would extend this observation to other religious groupings as well), also have a besetting sin that not only forms, but limits them. These arise out of the origins and formative years of the group, and they may be either baggage brought from some former entity, or they may be a reaction against what they have left behind or what has stood in opposition to them. To know the besetting sin, one has to know the history of the denomination. For example, the Roman Catholic Church is all that is left of the western half of the Roman Empire. As such, it has inherited the Imperial legal system and structure, with Pope as Emperor, right down to the tiny left-over scrap of being also a head of state. Consequently, the Catholic Church has historically been compelled to define, in legal terms, absolutely everything to the most minute detail. There can be no mystery, and certainly no ambiguity. The Church must be poised to go to court over every minutia of doctrine, at any time, and it must speak with unequivocal authority on anything. Their besetting sin, therefore, in my opinion, is authoritarian legalism.
But how about us Episcopalians? What is our crutch, our fall-back position? What piece of our identity, rooted in our origins, not only defines us in our own minds, but also inhibits us and holds us back? I would submit that it may be Anglo-philia—our inordinate, unreasoning fondness for all things English. Like most colonials, we go to such extremes that we are sometimes more English than the English. Many of our church buildings look as if they had been plucked whole from the English countryside. Our worship vestments are not just churchy, they are English Churchy. If we had an ethnic event, such as the Greek Orthodox sometimes have, ours would be High Tea—or “Pub Night,” as my congregation in Huntington used to have. We set great store in being part of the Anglican Communion, more so, it seems, than much of the Anglican Communion sets in having us. For many of our bishops, the Lambeth Conference is like a pilgrimage to holy Mecca, and that tea with the Queen (note “the” queen, not “their” queen) is a peak experience for a lifetime.
So what is wrong with all this harmless amusement? Nothing, of course, as long as it remains that; it can be benign and healthy as long as we retain our senses of humor and proportion, which this article hopes to encourage. If it becomes a box for us to take refuge and confine ourselves in, not so much. We have not been an Anglo church here in the U. S. for more than a generation, and as participation in our General Convention will attest, we are no longer a national church, either. If we expect non-Anglos of whatever type to conform to our preference for Englishness, we do them and ourselves a wrong.
There is more that goes with Anglo-philia, too, that is less benign, and we see it in our church culture as well, to our harm: classism, cultural elitism, excessive nationalism, and some of our racism have their roots in English tradition. Those jokes about Episcopalians “hating tacky worse than sin,” and for whom “sin is not knowing which fork to use at dinner,” harken to our early, Tory days in America. We’ve been working for some time to eradicate these negative influences. My hope is that simply raising to our awareness some of their origin will help us to accomplish that.
Study of the Enneagram indicates that each of us has a “besetting sin,” a sort of innate fall-back position we cling to by habit or reflex. We come by it naturally, or have chosen it so early in life that we don’t remember the choice. It seems to work for us. We’re quite capable of committing all the other sins; it’s just that this one is our favorite. It is part of who we are. We don’t usually consider it to be a sin. In fact, we tend to value it as normal, and assume others must feel the same way about it, or would if they were as well-informed as we are. Of course, in fact, they have their own, which may be different, and they hold to theirs just as strongly. Unfortunately, the besetting sin is still a sin, and it harms us, because it limits our field of choices. It forces us to look at life through its prism alone, and therefore to see only its spectrum of colors. We see our world through our sin-colored glasses.
I am of the opinion that Christian denominations (and I would extend this observation to other religious groupings as well), also have a besetting sin that not only forms, but limits them. These arise out of the origins and formative years of the group, and they may be either baggage brought from some former entity, or they may be a reaction against what they have left behind or what has stood in opposition to them. To know the besetting sin, one has to know the history of the denomination. For example, the Roman Catholic Church is all that is left of the western half of the Roman Empire. As such, it has inherited the Imperial legal system and structure, with Pope as Emperor, right down to the tiny left-over scrap of being also a head of state. Consequently, the Catholic Church has historically been compelled to define, in legal terms, absolutely everything to the most minute detail. There can be no mystery, and certainly no ambiguity. The Church must be poised to go to court over every minutia of doctrine, at any time, and it must speak with unequivocal authority on anything. Their besetting sin, therefore, in my opinion, is authoritarian legalism.
But how about us Episcopalians? What is our crutch, our fall-back position? What piece of our identity, rooted in our origins, not only defines us in our own minds, but also inhibits us and holds us back? I would submit that it may be Anglo-philia—our inordinate, unreasoning fondness for all things English. Like most colonials, we go to such extremes that we are sometimes more English than the English. Many of our church buildings look as if they had been plucked whole from the English countryside. Our worship vestments are not just churchy, they are English Churchy. If we had an ethnic event, such as the Greek Orthodox sometimes have, ours would be High Tea—or “Pub Night,” as my congregation in Huntington used to have. We set great store in being part of the Anglican Communion, more so, it seems, than much of the Anglican Communion sets in having us. For many of our bishops, the Lambeth Conference is like a pilgrimage to holy Mecca, and that tea with the Queen (note “the” queen, not “their” queen) is a peak experience for a lifetime.
So what is wrong with all this harmless amusement? Nothing, of course, as long as it remains that; it can be benign and healthy as long as we retain our senses of humor and proportion, which this article hopes to encourage. If it becomes a box for us to take refuge and confine ourselves in, not so much. We have not been an Anglo church here in the U. S. for more than a generation, and as participation in our General Convention will attest, we are no longer a national church, either. If we expect non-Anglos of whatever type to conform to our preference for Englishness, we do them and ourselves a wrong.
There is more that goes with Anglo-philia, too, that is less benign, and we see it in our church culture as well, to our harm: classism, cultural elitism, excessive nationalism, and some of our racism have their roots in English tradition. Those jokes about Episcopalians “hating tacky worse than sin,” and for whom “sin is not knowing which fork to use at dinner,” harken to our early, Tory days in America. We’ve been working for some time to eradicate these negative influences. My hope is that simply raising to our awareness some of their origin will help us to accomplish that.
A Volley from the Canon, #57
NEED—AND NEEDINESS
The Church is a place for the practice of all Christian virtues, right? The one place in the world, outside of family, where love abounds, where forgiveness is the norm, where grace can be expected. Alas, like the idea of “functional family,” “loving congregation” is largely a mythical creation of wishful thinking.
Not that striving to “live in grace,” is a bad idea—far from it. One hopes that in all congregations there are people who love one another, who are quick to forgive and slow to take offense, and who strive to draw, from themselves and one another, the best they have to give. It is just that, in this earthly vale, the heavenly ideal collides quickly with the fallen human reality, and difficulties ensue that cannot be ignored without imperiling the health of the whole congregation.
We all have needs. The need to serve and to be needed is one of them, and the need to be valued and appreciated is another. The Church can be a place where we are free to offer our best and to have our ministries recognized and honored.
With some, though, underneath the need lies a deeper, veiled, unrecognized thing I’ll call neediness, an equal-opportunity affliction which can strike male and female, young and old, clergy and laity. It can be a bottomless pit, a black hole of low self-esteem that no earthly compassion can penetrate. People with that form of neediness usually wander from congregation to congregation sooner rather than later, their expectations of others never satisfied. Or neediness can be just a chronic condition in which the craving for recognition in self-sacrifice holds greater import than the service itself or the actual need for it. This kind of neediness also comes with an unspoken and un-negotiated, one-way contract: “Because I do these things for you (perhaps without being asked), you owe me big time. You owe me love, praise, and high esteem. You even owe me the favor of asking me to continue to do these things. You owe me entitlement to these things.” And there is an implied threat: “If you don’t, you will hurt my feelings, and you will be a bad person. Your rejection may even drive me away (and it will be all your fault).” Thus, the needy person, placing all responsibility on the other, rules through hyper-sensitivity, and the congregation is held hostage to its own tender-hearted desire to be compassionate. Sadly, the less healthy the congregation is, the longer they tolerate and even feed this sort of behavior, to their own detriment.
Indeed, we are called by the love of Christ to love all those near us, and people who can be hard to love are no exceptions. Yet we are not called to love, or even to tolerate, all of their destructive behaviors. In AA parlance, we need to beware of becoming “co-dependents” to other people’s addictions, and neediness is an addiction to praise, esteem, and position. We’ve seen it so many times in the church: the rector who retires without yielding position and authority, the warden or altar guild directress “for life,” the treasurer or trustee who treats church funds and property as their own, the music director for whom imposing “superior” personal taste matters more than assisting the congregation to worship God, the soloist who would never be asked to sing anywhere else in the world but who is somehow indispensible in church, the kitchen or building-and-grounds czar, the pancake grill-meister—all these characters are uncomfortably familiar in the life of the congregation. When we say our congregation is “like a family,” we far too often mean that it comes with the word “dysfunctional” in front of it. And that does not bode well for the church family growing or holding together in the long run.
We are also called by Christ to work toward getting better: more whole, healthier in psyche and spirit. Toward that end, the congregation needs to have processes and systems that contribute toward greater wholeness. That is why it is so important for congregations to have term limitations and to rotate duties and offices. I know it is not easy in a small congregation, with few willing laborers. Even so, it is essential to health. It is also essential to growth, for in the musical chairs of shifting leadership roles, it is critical to leave seats vacant for a spell to allow someone new to occupy them if they will. We also need to be individually self-critical, daring to discern prayerfully within ourselves our own tendencies toward neediness, and pulling back from the abyss when needed.
After all, none of our ministries or even our gifts is ours to own: they belong to God. A congregation must not become too dependent on them, or even on us, for we are only passing this way for a time, and soon enough we will be on our way. If we can leave behind not only happy and affectionate memories of ourselves but also others experienced and able to fill our places, our time of ministry will be all the more fruitful.
The Church is a place for the practice of all Christian virtues, right? The one place in the world, outside of family, where love abounds, where forgiveness is the norm, where grace can be expected. Alas, like the idea of “functional family,” “loving congregation” is largely a mythical creation of wishful thinking.
Not that striving to “live in grace,” is a bad idea—far from it. One hopes that in all congregations there are people who love one another, who are quick to forgive and slow to take offense, and who strive to draw, from themselves and one another, the best they have to give. It is just that, in this earthly vale, the heavenly ideal collides quickly with the fallen human reality, and difficulties ensue that cannot be ignored without imperiling the health of the whole congregation.
We all have needs. The need to serve and to be needed is one of them, and the need to be valued and appreciated is another. The Church can be a place where we are free to offer our best and to have our ministries recognized and honored.
With some, though, underneath the need lies a deeper, veiled, unrecognized thing I’ll call neediness, an equal-opportunity affliction which can strike male and female, young and old, clergy and laity. It can be a bottomless pit, a black hole of low self-esteem that no earthly compassion can penetrate. People with that form of neediness usually wander from congregation to congregation sooner rather than later, their expectations of others never satisfied. Or neediness can be just a chronic condition in which the craving for recognition in self-sacrifice holds greater import than the service itself or the actual need for it. This kind of neediness also comes with an unspoken and un-negotiated, one-way contract: “Because I do these things for you (perhaps without being asked), you owe me big time. You owe me love, praise, and high esteem. You even owe me the favor of asking me to continue to do these things. You owe me entitlement to these things.” And there is an implied threat: “If you don’t, you will hurt my feelings, and you will be a bad person. Your rejection may even drive me away (and it will be all your fault).” Thus, the needy person, placing all responsibility on the other, rules through hyper-sensitivity, and the congregation is held hostage to its own tender-hearted desire to be compassionate. Sadly, the less healthy the congregation is, the longer they tolerate and even feed this sort of behavior, to their own detriment.
Indeed, we are called by the love of Christ to love all those near us, and people who can be hard to love are no exceptions. Yet we are not called to love, or even to tolerate, all of their destructive behaviors. In AA parlance, we need to beware of becoming “co-dependents” to other people’s addictions, and neediness is an addiction to praise, esteem, and position. We’ve seen it so many times in the church: the rector who retires without yielding position and authority, the warden or altar guild directress “for life,” the treasurer or trustee who treats church funds and property as their own, the music director for whom imposing “superior” personal taste matters more than assisting the congregation to worship God, the soloist who would never be asked to sing anywhere else in the world but who is somehow indispensible in church, the kitchen or building-and-grounds czar, the pancake grill-meister—all these characters are uncomfortably familiar in the life of the congregation. When we say our congregation is “like a family,” we far too often mean that it comes with the word “dysfunctional” in front of it. And that does not bode well for the church family growing or holding together in the long run.
We are also called by Christ to work toward getting better: more whole, healthier in psyche and spirit. Toward that end, the congregation needs to have processes and systems that contribute toward greater wholeness. That is why it is so important for congregations to have term limitations and to rotate duties and offices. I know it is not easy in a small congregation, with few willing laborers. Even so, it is essential to health. It is also essential to growth, for in the musical chairs of shifting leadership roles, it is critical to leave seats vacant for a spell to allow someone new to occupy them if they will. We also need to be individually self-critical, daring to discern prayerfully within ourselves our own tendencies toward neediness, and pulling back from the abyss when needed.
After all, none of our ministries or even our gifts is ours to own: they belong to God. A congregation must not become too dependent on them, or even on us, for we are only passing this way for a time, and soon enough we will be on our way. If we can leave behind not only happy and affectionate memories of ourselves but also others experienced and able to fill our places, our time of ministry will be all the more fruitful.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, Number 56--Formation
THE FORMATION IMPERATIVE
Not long ago, I had the pleasure of working with the vestry of Christ Church, Bluefield, as they hammered out an excellent mission statement together. We were all feeling pretty good about the accomplishment, and I looked at it contentedly and said, “What it says to me is that you are committed to being an academy and laboratory for Christian living.” They liked that summary and wound up with it as a bonus at no extra charge to use as a slogan for advertising and such. However, I’m not so sure that slogan singles them out so much as having a unique mission: in fact, I would hope that pretty nearly EVERY Episcopal congregation would have the idea of teaching and practicing a Christian discipline as part of their DNA, if not as their mission statement.
Here’s the rub: we Episcopalians THINK (because we’ve been told so) that we are all about worship. That’s because we have tended to think we do worship particularly well (often kind of like a symphony orchestra does music particularly well, with a handful in the audience). But worship is not our foundational activity. Christian Formation is, for worship is merely one, albeit a very important one, of several aspects of congregational life that build and support Christian lives.
When a congregation has the notion that Christian Ed is for children; that Confirmation means “graduation” from Church School; that Bible study and other forms of adult formation are for the handful of truly devout but somewhat weird members, not for oneself; that Inquirers’ Class is the full extent of education needed for full, life-long participation in the life of the church—that congregation is in a heap ‘o trouble. The Evangelical churches count on a sudden, cathartic, one-time experience of conversion to Christ. We don’t. We count on a life-style of living and practicing the life of conversion over a period of time. How ironic that they so often do a better job than we do with on-going Christian Formation.
It isn’t eccentric for adult Christians to participate regularly in some kind of instruction in scripture, tradition, and practice. It’s just the Episcopal way.
Not long ago, I had the pleasure of working with the vestry of Christ Church, Bluefield, as they hammered out an excellent mission statement together. We were all feeling pretty good about the accomplishment, and I looked at it contentedly and said, “What it says to me is that you are committed to being an academy and laboratory for Christian living.” They liked that summary and wound up with it as a bonus at no extra charge to use as a slogan for advertising and such. However, I’m not so sure that slogan singles them out so much as having a unique mission: in fact, I would hope that pretty nearly EVERY Episcopal congregation would have the idea of teaching and practicing a Christian discipline as part of their DNA, if not as their mission statement.
Here’s the rub: we Episcopalians THINK (because we’ve been told so) that we are all about worship. That’s because we have tended to think we do worship particularly well (often kind of like a symphony orchestra does music particularly well, with a handful in the audience). But worship is not our foundational activity. Christian Formation is, for worship is merely one, albeit a very important one, of several aspects of congregational life that build and support Christian lives.
When a congregation has the notion that Christian Ed is for children; that Confirmation means “graduation” from Church School; that Bible study and other forms of adult formation are for the handful of truly devout but somewhat weird members, not for oneself; that Inquirers’ Class is the full extent of education needed for full, life-long participation in the life of the church—that congregation is in a heap ‘o trouble. The Evangelical churches count on a sudden, cathartic, one-time experience of conversion to Christ. We don’t. We count on a life-style of living and practicing the life of conversion over a period of time. How ironic that they so often do a better job than we do with on-going Christian Formation.
It isn’t eccentric for adult Christians to participate regularly in some kind of instruction in scripture, tradition, and practice. It’s just the Episcopal way.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, # 55 And What Does the Lord Require of Us
WHAT DOES THE LORD REQUIRE OF US?
When a congregation is considering the question of what its mission or purpose statement ought to be, perhaps a foundational beginning might be some of the things scripture actually teaches us to be essential to the faith. Jesus’ own specific teachings to his followers would be an excellent place to begin—not simply to lift a piece out of scripture and adopt it as mission (since that would be too general and universally applicable to provide specific identity or direction to a congregation), but to set up some categories to begin with.
We shouldn’t neglect the Old Testament while we are at it, for it is our scripture, too. Recently, I came across an edition of the Bible that comes with yellow highlighting on all verses or portions of verses that mention the responsibility of God’s people to promote justice and to care for others who are in need. The proportion of scripture that has yellow highlighting is impressive, to say the least.
The prophet Micah provides a useful summary. “What does the Lord require of us,” he asks rhetorically, “but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?” That pretty well covers it, and I cannot imagine Jesus objecting to that sentiment.
Bishop Barbara Harris quotes the late Dr. Verna Dozier as saying that we too often reverse the verbs in that passage in our own practice. She says we only “love” justice, while we actually “do” mercy. Justice, you see, requires commitment and sacrifice to DO, but it is easy and cost-free to be vaguely in favor of it, if it ever should somehow happen. Mercy is easier to DO; we can just write a check. It has the added advantage of meeting with universal approval, and not rocking anyone’s boat. Justice, however—DOING justice could turn the world on its head (a phrase that rings a Pauline bell, now I think of it. This is what the early church was accused of wanting to do!)
Imagine that. A congregation whose purpose is to turn the world on its head.
When a congregation is considering the question of what its mission or purpose statement ought to be, perhaps a foundational beginning might be some of the things scripture actually teaches us to be essential to the faith. Jesus’ own specific teachings to his followers would be an excellent place to begin—not simply to lift a piece out of scripture and adopt it as mission (since that would be too general and universally applicable to provide specific identity or direction to a congregation), but to set up some categories to begin with.
We shouldn’t neglect the Old Testament while we are at it, for it is our scripture, too. Recently, I came across an edition of the Bible that comes with yellow highlighting on all verses or portions of verses that mention the responsibility of God’s people to promote justice and to care for others who are in need. The proportion of scripture that has yellow highlighting is impressive, to say the least.
The prophet Micah provides a useful summary. “What does the Lord require of us,” he asks rhetorically, “but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?” That pretty well covers it, and I cannot imagine Jesus objecting to that sentiment.
Bishop Barbara Harris quotes the late Dr. Verna Dozier as saying that we too often reverse the verbs in that passage in our own practice. She says we only “love” justice, while we actually “do” mercy. Justice, you see, requires commitment and sacrifice to DO, but it is easy and cost-free to be vaguely in favor of it, if it ever should somehow happen. Mercy is easier to DO; we can just write a check. It has the added advantage of meeting with universal approval, and not rocking anyone’s boat. Justice, however—DOING justice could turn the world on its head (a phrase that rings a Pauline bell, now I think of it. This is what the early church was accused of wanting to do!)
Imagine that. A congregation whose purpose is to turn the world on its head.
A Volley from the Canon, #54 A Matter of Policy
A MATTER OF POLICY
At this writing, I am visiting Anniston, Alabama to officiate at the wedding of my niece Rachel in St. Michael and All Angels Church, a very beautiful English-style stone church set down incongruously in a working-class neighborhood in small-town Alabama. To do this, we had to “borrow” the church, with which no one in the family has any connection. Rachel grew up actively involved in Church of the Holy Comforter, Charlotte, NC. But when she left for college, her parents moved to suburban D. C., where she has lived only briefly after University. One day, on retirement, her parents will attend The Church of the Holy Comforter in Gadsden, Alabama, but that time is not now, and Rachel does not know that congregation. She attends graduate school in Austin, TX, where she will not reside for long. Bottom line: she is at that time of life when she has no “permanent” church congregation. She and fiancé Jonathan know they want to wed in church (and she wants it to be an Episcopal Church). But what church, where?
Sound familiar? In this highly mobile society, this scenario describes the plight of many a person, and not just twenty-somethings.
The paternal grandparents, who are not Episcopalian and limited in mobility, live near Anniston. If the wedding is held here, they can attend, and there are other family members still in Alabama. The groom, Jonathan’s, family are from Arkansas. So everyone else has to travel anyway—why not gather here?
In many instances, clergy exclusivity and hard-headedness, that’s why. How many parish clergy are even willing to listen through a convoluted story like the one above, much less to consider seriously and open-mindedly the possibility of allowing such an “outside” ceremony to be performed in “their” church? More than used to be the case, fortunately, and the Rev. Bruce White, of St. Michael and All Angels, is one of them. He and his altar guild wedding volunteers are being extraordinarily hospitable. The parish even housed the after-rehearsal dinner, food supplied by an outside caterer, of course, but making fullest use of the church’s buildings. They could hardly be more delightful to work with.
There is a substantial fee, and that is not inappropriate; after all, it costs money to maintain this impressive structure, and it is only fair to expect interlopers such as ourselves to share that responsibility. But to get to the point of this writing: congregations need to have carefully planned and thought-out written policies, with input from all concerned (altar guilds, musicians, vestries, sexton staff, clergy) as to who can be accommodated with requests to use the church facilities for meetings, weddings, funerals, baptisms, and parties, and under what circumstances. The policy needs to be designed to include and draw in, not to exclude and rule out. It needs to be attuned to the mission of the congregation. It needs to be about Stewardship, Servanthood, and Evangelism.
We’ve all been plagued by those calls: “I belong to Possum Creek Church, but your church is so pretty, I thought I’d like to have my daughter’s wedding there.” It can get pretty annoying. Still, when we respond to such requests, it wouldn’t hurt us to consider, trite as it is, “What Would Jesus Do?” In our answer, prepared by careful policy planning done in advance and not in the heat of re-action, I would hope there will always be Good News.
At this writing, I am visiting Anniston, Alabama to officiate at the wedding of my niece Rachel in St. Michael and All Angels Church, a very beautiful English-style stone church set down incongruously in a working-class neighborhood in small-town Alabama. To do this, we had to “borrow” the church, with which no one in the family has any connection. Rachel grew up actively involved in Church of the Holy Comforter, Charlotte, NC. But when she left for college, her parents moved to suburban D. C., where she has lived only briefly after University. One day, on retirement, her parents will attend The Church of the Holy Comforter in Gadsden, Alabama, but that time is not now, and Rachel does not know that congregation. She attends graduate school in Austin, TX, where she will not reside for long. Bottom line: she is at that time of life when she has no “permanent” church congregation. She and fiancé Jonathan know they want to wed in church (and she wants it to be an Episcopal Church). But what church, where?
Sound familiar? In this highly mobile society, this scenario describes the plight of many a person, and not just twenty-somethings.
The paternal grandparents, who are not Episcopalian and limited in mobility, live near Anniston. If the wedding is held here, they can attend, and there are other family members still in Alabama. The groom, Jonathan’s, family are from Arkansas. So everyone else has to travel anyway—why not gather here?
In many instances, clergy exclusivity and hard-headedness, that’s why. How many parish clergy are even willing to listen through a convoluted story like the one above, much less to consider seriously and open-mindedly the possibility of allowing such an “outside” ceremony to be performed in “their” church? More than used to be the case, fortunately, and the Rev. Bruce White, of St. Michael and All Angels, is one of them. He and his altar guild wedding volunteers are being extraordinarily hospitable. The parish even housed the after-rehearsal dinner, food supplied by an outside caterer, of course, but making fullest use of the church’s buildings. They could hardly be more delightful to work with.
There is a substantial fee, and that is not inappropriate; after all, it costs money to maintain this impressive structure, and it is only fair to expect interlopers such as ourselves to share that responsibility. But to get to the point of this writing: congregations need to have carefully planned and thought-out written policies, with input from all concerned (altar guilds, musicians, vestries, sexton staff, clergy) as to who can be accommodated with requests to use the church facilities for meetings, weddings, funerals, baptisms, and parties, and under what circumstances. The policy needs to be designed to include and draw in, not to exclude and rule out. It needs to be attuned to the mission of the congregation. It needs to be about Stewardship, Servanthood, and Evangelism.
We’ve all been plagued by those calls: “I belong to Possum Creek Church, but your church is so pretty, I thought I’d like to have my daughter’s wedding there.” It can get pretty annoying. Still, when we respond to such requests, it wouldn’t hurt us to consider, trite as it is, “What Would Jesus Do?” In our answer, prepared by careful policy planning done in advance and not in the heat of re-action, I would hope there will always be Good News.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #53
THE MAIN EVENT
One of many things I’ve always liked about parish ministry is the variety of activities one gets to do. Clergy can manage their own schedules to a great extent, and no two days of a week need be quite the same. That really helps in keeping things fresh and interesting. The down side, though, is that it can be challenging to stay focused. It is easy to get pulled in one direction and another.
With more on the to-do list than one can shake a stick at, it takes discipline and resolve to stop shaking sticks long enough to put quality time into the things that matter most—especially when everything seems to matter so much and demand so much attention.
People certainly matter enormously, and their urgent pastoral needs often trump other obligations. In the end, though, it is important for both clergy and lay leaders to realize that what happens in church on Sunday morning is nearly always the most important event in the life of a congregation in any given week, the one most impacting the lives of the people and the future of the church. Sunday liturgy, particularly the Eucharist, is the Main Event. It deserves careful and prayerful planning, attentive communication with worship leaders, and even intentional rehearsal. Our prayer book worship, prescribed as it is, may seem to be predictable and rote. In presentation, however, it is imperative that it be experienced as anything but! Keeping it fresh week by week does not happen by accident, but only by taking the time to ponder, wonder, and pray in preparation.
People have plenty they could do with a Sunday morning, including say their prayers from the comfort of their own beds. Those who get up and haul their carcasses to the church deserve to be rewarded with something special and inspiring. Worship that expects encounter with the Holy One is the most effective evangelism, spiritual discipline, pastoral care, and Christian formation experience a congregation can offer. No demand on a church’s ministers’ time is more important than that.
One of many things I’ve always liked about parish ministry is the variety of activities one gets to do. Clergy can manage their own schedules to a great extent, and no two days of a week need be quite the same. That really helps in keeping things fresh and interesting. The down side, though, is that it can be challenging to stay focused. It is easy to get pulled in one direction and another.
With more on the to-do list than one can shake a stick at, it takes discipline and resolve to stop shaking sticks long enough to put quality time into the things that matter most—especially when everything seems to matter so much and demand so much attention.
People certainly matter enormously, and their urgent pastoral needs often trump other obligations. In the end, though, it is important for both clergy and lay leaders to realize that what happens in church on Sunday morning is nearly always the most important event in the life of a congregation in any given week, the one most impacting the lives of the people and the future of the church. Sunday liturgy, particularly the Eucharist, is the Main Event. It deserves careful and prayerful planning, attentive communication with worship leaders, and even intentional rehearsal. Our prayer book worship, prescribed as it is, may seem to be predictable and rote. In presentation, however, it is imperative that it be experienced as anything but! Keeping it fresh week by week does not happen by accident, but only by taking the time to ponder, wonder, and pray in preparation.
People have plenty they could do with a Sunday morning, including say their prayers from the comfort of their own beds. Those who get up and haul their carcasses to the church deserve to be rewarded with something special and inspiring. Worship that expects encounter with the Holy One is the most effective evangelism, spiritual discipline, pastoral care, and Christian formation experience a congregation can offer. No demand on a church’s ministers’ time is more important than that.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #52
MISSION VS. MAINTENANCE: THE PASTORAL CARE DIVERSION
During a clergy search, many if not most congregations are very clear in stating: “We need pastoral care. We want a priest who visits the sick and the shut-ins.” Often the phrase ends, spoken or unspoken, “unlike that last guy.” Very rarely, it seems, does any church get quite enough clergy visitation to suit the “clergy as pastoral-caregiver” segment of the congregation.
It is quite true that the weaker members of a congregation rate special, caring attention in their time of need. It is also a fact that a congregation that makes attention to the sick and elderly its top priority, particularly for its clergy-person, has set its face toward its own death. One reason is simply statistical: the sick and elderly members, by and large, don’t last very long. Consequently, all that clergy attention, at high cost to the congregation, is being directed toward those who are on their way out of the congregational life. Morale is an issue, too: after a while, the priest realizes that all of her best friends in the congregation are dead! It isn’t easy to bury, year after year, the church members you know best and love most.
But meanwhile, the “pastoral” clergy leader is ignoring the young, the active, and the newly enrolled, many of whom may well look elsewhere for church, precisely because they feel the rector’s lack of interest in them. The congregation is placing maintenance of those it already has ahead of its mission to reach out to those it does not yet fully have! In fact, I’ve heard it said that the church is the only organization that exists for the benefit of those who are not yet its members.
This very situation may well be the key to the decline of the Main Line in Protestantism.
Pastoral care for the sick, the elderly, and for those in “any kind of need or trouble” is the responsibility of the entire congregation, not just the clergy. So are evangelism, formation, and congregational life. Remember the story about the Canada geese, how they share leadership, mate for life, fly in formation, and—when one is injured or sick, one or two stay behind to care for the weak one. We can learn this from those geese: it isn’t always the same one who stays behind to care for the sick.
And meanwhile, the flock flies on to its destination.
During a clergy search, many if not most congregations are very clear in stating: “We need pastoral care. We want a priest who visits the sick and the shut-ins.” Often the phrase ends, spoken or unspoken, “unlike that last guy.” Very rarely, it seems, does any church get quite enough clergy visitation to suit the “clergy as pastoral-caregiver” segment of the congregation.
It is quite true that the weaker members of a congregation rate special, caring attention in their time of need. It is also a fact that a congregation that makes attention to the sick and elderly its top priority, particularly for its clergy-person, has set its face toward its own death. One reason is simply statistical: the sick and elderly members, by and large, don’t last very long. Consequently, all that clergy attention, at high cost to the congregation, is being directed toward those who are on their way out of the congregational life. Morale is an issue, too: after a while, the priest realizes that all of her best friends in the congregation are dead! It isn’t easy to bury, year after year, the church members you know best and love most.
But meanwhile, the “pastoral” clergy leader is ignoring the young, the active, and the newly enrolled, many of whom may well look elsewhere for church, precisely because they feel the rector’s lack of interest in them. The congregation is placing maintenance of those it already has ahead of its mission to reach out to those it does not yet fully have! In fact, I’ve heard it said that the church is the only organization that exists for the benefit of those who are not yet its members.
This very situation may well be the key to the decline of the Main Line in Protestantism.
Pastoral care for the sick, the elderly, and for those in “any kind of need or trouble” is the responsibility of the entire congregation, not just the clergy. So are evangelism, formation, and congregational life. Remember the story about the Canada geese, how they share leadership, mate for life, fly in formation, and—when one is injured or sick, one or two stay behind to care for the weak one. We can learn this from those geese: it isn’t always the same one who stays behind to care for the sick.
And meanwhile, the flock flies on to its destination.
A Volley from the Canon, #51
MOVE TOWARD THE FIRE
In a former life, my wife Linda was Director of Public Relations for a hospital in our home town. One of her duties had to do with emergency procedures, and I was intrigued to learn of some ways that hospitals respond differently from other institutions to an emergency such as a fire.
I was a teacher then, and our procedure was simple: get the kids out! In most instances, when an occupied structure catches fire, priority one is to evacuate, and priority two is to call the fire department (of course, that is done automatically in most cases). In the hospital, however, there are hundreds of patients, many of whose lives would be as threatened by being moved as by the emergency itself. In any case, there could never be staff enough or emergency personnel enough, quickly enough, to remove all patients safely. Evacuation itself poses serious risks. Therefore, the hospital maintains a cadre of staff who are trained to rush TO the source of the danger. Others are sealing off unaffected wings of the buildings, evacuating those who can most safely be evacuated, and taking up stations for further actions should they be called for. Still others continue to care for the seriously ill throughout the emergency. But the most crucial action required is to put out the fire and limit the damage immediately, not waiting for crews from outside to arrive.
What does this have to do with congregational life and health? The church is, after all, a hospital for sinners, a gathering place for people in all stages of spiritual and emotional treatment and recovery. What happens when there is a spiritual “fire,” (and not one of holy origin)? How can the local church deal most effectively with an outbreak of serious conflict that threatens its very survival?
We have all kinds of natural responses. Some people refuse to acknowledge that there is a fire, and they try to go about their business normally, hoping it will just go out on its own. Some of the stronger and abler people run from the fire, often abandoning weaker souls who are too frail, in whatever way, to get out of the way of the flames. Some just try to seal it off from affecting “their” particular wing of the congregation.
We also need to maintain teams of people who are prepared and equipped to rush TO the fire. We need to meet conflicts head on, address them honestly and directly, and bring them to resolution as quickly and expeditiously as possible. We need to excise the Body of dangerous, destructive behaviors, and we need to facilitate reconciliation and healing. Conflict Resolution may be the crash cart of wholesome congregational life.
In a former life, my wife Linda was Director of Public Relations for a hospital in our home town. One of her duties had to do with emergency procedures, and I was intrigued to learn of some ways that hospitals respond differently from other institutions to an emergency such as a fire.
I was a teacher then, and our procedure was simple: get the kids out! In most instances, when an occupied structure catches fire, priority one is to evacuate, and priority two is to call the fire department (of course, that is done automatically in most cases). In the hospital, however, there are hundreds of patients, many of whose lives would be as threatened by being moved as by the emergency itself. In any case, there could never be staff enough or emergency personnel enough, quickly enough, to remove all patients safely. Evacuation itself poses serious risks. Therefore, the hospital maintains a cadre of staff who are trained to rush TO the source of the danger. Others are sealing off unaffected wings of the buildings, evacuating those who can most safely be evacuated, and taking up stations for further actions should they be called for. Still others continue to care for the seriously ill throughout the emergency. But the most crucial action required is to put out the fire and limit the damage immediately, not waiting for crews from outside to arrive.
What does this have to do with congregational life and health? The church is, after all, a hospital for sinners, a gathering place for people in all stages of spiritual and emotional treatment and recovery. What happens when there is a spiritual “fire,” (and not one of holy origin)? How can the local church deal most effectively with an outbreak of serious conflict that threatens its very survival?
We have all kinds of natural responses. Some people refuse to acknowledge that there is a fire, and they try to go about their business normally, hoping it will just go out on its own. Some of the stronger and abler people run from the fire, often abandoning weaker souls who are too frail, in whatever way, to get out of the way of the flames. Some just try to seal it off from affecting “their” particular wing of the congregation.
We also need to maintain teams of people who are prepared and equipped to rush TO the fire. We need to meet conflicts head on, address them honestly and directly, and bring them to resolution as quickly and expeditiously as possible. We need to excise the Body of dangerous, destructive behaviors, and we need to facilitate reconciliation and healing. Conflict Resolution may be the crash cart of wholesome congregational life.
A Volley from the Canon, #50
SUMMER SOCIALS
Somehow, Coffee Hour, that sacred Episcopal institution, sounds less appealing in summer. Sure, there are those of us who need our post-worship jolt in any season. But many of us would just as soon get it in a cooler, breezier way when the weather turns warm.
That undercroft gathering space may seem a bit dark and caveish in summer, too.
If there is a level shady spot outdoors, why not try moving the coffee hour al fresco for summer? Some people will still want coffee—but what if it is available iced as well as hot? How about fresh-brewed iced tea? Real lemonade? Those summer treats hearken to lazier, more relaxed past days, but they also invite folks to relax and unwind together a little longer in present days, too. Ice cream bars and sandwiches make terrific summer after-church snacks, too, and a welcome break from the all-donut diet.
It is always a challenge to get hosts to do things a little differently, when they have learned a routine. For encouraging Sunday attendance through the summer, and for welcoming the guests who continue to drop in during summer months, however, variety lends a very attractive spice. It may be well worth the hospitality committee’s time and effort to do a little additional sales, training, and coordinating to produce a memorable summer routine.
Somehow, Coffee Hour, that sacred Episcopal institution, sounds less appealing in summer. Sure, there are those of us who need our post-worship jolt in any season. But many of us would just as soon get it in a cooler, breezier way when the weather turns warm.
That undercroft gathering space may seem a bit dark and caveish in summer, too.
If there is a level shady spot outdoors, why not try moving the coffee hour al fresco for summer? Some people will still want coffee—but what if it is available iced as well as hot? How about fresh-brewed iced tea? Real lemonade? Those summer treats hearken to lazier, more relaxed past days, but they also invite folks to relax and unwind together a little longer in present days, too. Ice cream bars and sandwiches make terrific summer after-church snacks, too, and a welcome break from the all-donut diet.
It is always a challenge to get hosts to do things a little differently, when they have learned a routine. For encouraging Sunday attendance through the summer, and for welcoming the guests who continue to drop in during summer months, however, variety lends a very attractive spice. It may be well worth the hospitality committee’s time and effort to do a little additional sales, training, and coordinating to produce a memorable summer routine.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Volley from the Canon, #49
FRESH LEAVEN FOR THE LOAF:
WORKING IN NEW MEMBERS
It is a simple truth that new church members beget new church members.
The long-time members largely have already worn out their family, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances with invitations to the church. It saddens one to see them hide when they espy us approaching. Chances are, if they haven’t showed up by now, they aren’t interested. At any rate, they know they are welcome.
The new member, however, knows and is related to (we hope) a different set of people, including many who have not yet been introduced to the local Episcopal congregation. While they are fresh and excited about their experience of attending the church, it’s a great time for them to be the evangelists of the congregation, talking up their interest and enthusiasm to their friends and relations. In my own experience, one new member to our original congregation (that we hardly knew) set off a chain reaction of friends and friends-of-friends that brought a double-handful of young adults into that congregation.
The existing members owe a huge debt of gratitude to those new members, who refresh the community life and stir the pot, fending off congregational torpor. It is essential that they be carefully drawn into the group. Remember: within six months of joining a church, every member needs to know at least seven people there that he or she considers friends, inside and outside of the church, in order for them to continue attending.
No matter how small the congregation, it is a good idea to have a new member incorporation group of some kind, whose job it is to work the new leaven into the loaf. Newcomers need to be invited to take part in various activities and events, and specifically not just the drudge jobs. Perhaps most important of all is to ask them what their ministry interests are, and to help them find ways to develop those in the congregation.
Should a new member serve on the vestry right away? That depends on the congregation, the vestry, and the new member. As a rule, it is wise not to hit them up with too large a commitment all at once. Many of us know of vestries whose meetings could be terminal to a fragile faith, either through boredom or through conflict. There can be situations though, in a small and well-functioning congregation, when participation in the leadership of the church could be an excellent orientation and commitment experience.
New members are a special gift to a congregation. Let us rejoice and be glad in them. Let us also not neglect to ask them to invite their friends and connections, as well. We’d be glad in them, too!
WORKING IN NEW MEMBERS
It is a simple truth that new church members beget new church members.
The long-time members largely have already worn out their family, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances with invitations to the church. It saddens one to see them hide when they espy us approaching. Chances are, if they haven’t showed up by now, they aren’t interested. At any rate, they know they are welcome.
The new member, however, knows and is related to (we hope) a different set of people, including many who have not yet been introduced to the local Episcopal congregation. While they are fresh and excited about their experience of attending the church, it’s a great time for them to be the evangelists of the congregation, talking up their interest and enthusiasm to their friends and relations. In my own experience, one new member to our original congregation (that we hardly knew) set off a chain reaction of friends and friends-of-friends that brought a double-handful of young adults into that congregation.
The existing members owe a huge debt of gratitude to those new members, who refresh the community life and stir the pot, fending off congregational torpor. It is essential that they be carefully drawn into the group. Remember: within six months of joining a church, every member needs to know at least seven people there that he or she considers friends, inside and outside of the church, in order for them to continue attending.
No matter how small the congregation, it is a good idea to have a new member incorporation group of some kind, whose job it is to work the new leaven into the loaf. Newcomers need to be invited to take part in various activities and events, and specifically not just the drudge jobs. Perhaps most important of all is to ask them what their ministry interests are, and to help them find ways to develop those in the congregation.
Should a new member serve on the vestry right away? That depends on the congregation, the vestry, and the new member. As a rule, it is wise not to hit them up with too large a commitment all at once. Many of us know of vestries whose meetings could be terminal to a fragile faith, either through boredom or through conflict. There can be situations though, in a small and well-functioning congregation, when participation in the leadership of the church could be an excellent orientation and commitment experience.
New members are a special gift to a congregation. Let us rejoice and be glad in them. Let us also not neglect to ask them to invite their friends and connections, as well. We’d be glad in them, too!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, 47-48
NEW MEMBERS AND CLERGY CONTACT
It sounds so simple. Of course, everyone who visits a congregation for the first time would love to be contacted right away by the rector or missioner of the congregation, right? The sooner the better! Why not have them just drop in?
But whoa! Not so fast! While it is common for a couple or individual who visit a church for the first time to have that attitude, it is far from universal. Much depends on their former experience with church which, if they are newcomers, may be unknown. We also may need a quick review of Sizing Up Your Congregation (Alban Institute, Arlin Rothauge) to explain the complexity of the situation.
Our diocese is almost entirely composed of small (“family-size”) and medium-small (“pastoral-size”) congregations, with only one or two in the medium (“transition-to-program-size”) category. Groups in those size ranges vary considerably in their expectations about clergy role in leadership, communication, and new-member incorporation.
Small (up to about 75 average Sunday attendance) congregations are led by a small number of long-time members who are the go-to persons for any information about the church, and who ultimately make the important decisions about activities and events, finances, and acceptance of a new member. The clergy can be as welcoming as they want, but their contact cannot take the place of acceptance from these lay leaders. Introducing a prospective new member to the “patriarchs and matriarchs” and facilitating their getting to know and trust one another is essential to working new members into the small church. The clergy person, when he has a good relationship with the leaders (as he must, to survive), can help, but not control, that process. A visit from the priest probably doesn’t matter much: a phone call from the Altar Guild leader or a Warden can be a real sign of welcome and acceptance.
Medium-small (75 to 140-ish in ASA) congregations are clergy led. Yes, totally opposite. Clergy make or lead most decisions, and clergy are the ones who know everyone and know everything on the calendar (because they put it there.) You are a member of the congregation when the rector invites you to be. You know you matter to the congregation when the rector knows you (by name and particulars) and especially when she specifically invites you to take part in some parish activity. Of course, the friendliness and welcome of everyone matters—but if the priest does not remember your name, you’re toast in that congregation. Obviously, in this sociological setting, being visited by the clergy-person is very important to any prospective new member.
There is that other factor, though, of prior experience with church to consider. Has the person had a negative experience previously, and did it involve clergy? Has the person had a particularly close or happy pastoral relationship, with high expectations to match? Is the previous congregation either a family-size one or a pastoral-size one (we always think that what we’ve known in the past is normative.) Or, as is increasingly common, is this the first and only church experience the person has? Gently and politely finding out this information is a very important responsibility of the greeter team who welcome people on their first visit to the church. If, with sensitivity and genuine interest, they can discover and pass along to the clergy answers to these questions, the priest can accurately assess what kind of clergy response may be best in each particular situation.
Most of the time, a hand-written note of welcome from the rector or missioner of the congregation is an ideal first response, and it should arrive during the week following that first visit to worship. However, some congregations have a guest card or register in which the question is asked, “Would you like a call or visit from the clergy?” If that box is checked “yes,” then that call or visit has to take place right away, during that first week—and if the priest is to be away, then a card must be sent explaining that, with promise to call asap upon return.
There was a time when clergy had special license to drop in on anybody at any time. (That’s why the huge family Bible sat out on the coffee table to be dusted every week.) That time has passed. Now, unless we have specifically been told not to by an individual, we call in advance and inquire when a visit would be convenient.
It also used to be that home visits were always welcome. That may not necessarily be so today. The rise of coffee shops is a great solution to this dilemma. Now, we can say, “Would it be convenient for me to come by, or would you like to meet me at Espresso’s on the corner?” and we provide a comfortable alternative for anyone who, for whatever reason, is loathe to have a clergy visit at home. When the clergy family situation is conducive, it can also be helpful to invite newcomers, perhaps several at once, to the clergy home for a getting-acquainted visit (and in the pastoral size congregation, that would feel like a very welcome gesture.) Warm weather makes for opportunities for grilling on the deck or desserts on the patio or porch, which might seem even more comfortable for some.
If all this makes it seem terribly complicated, trying to figure out who would like to have a clergy visit and who would not, that’s because it is. Opportunities for small faux pas abound. There is one mistake that is just too big to make, though, and that is the mistake of clergy ignoring the matter entirely, and thereby alienating most everyone. Conveniently, there is one back-up solution that almost always works: just ask them what they would prefer. Who doesn’t like to be given a choice?
The welcome and inclusion of new members is not exclusively a clergy activity: it is a partnership between clergy and lay ministers in any congregation, and in many cases, the lay involvement is paramount.
It sounds so simple. Of course, everyone who visits a congregation for the first time would love to be contacted right away by the rector or missioner of the congregation, right? The sooner the better! Why not have them just drop in?
But whoa! Not so fast! While it is common for a couple or individual who visit a church for the first time to have that attitude, it is far from universal. Much depends on their former experience with church which, if they are newcomers, may be unknown. We also may need a quick review of Sizing Up Your Congregation (Alban Institute, Arlin Rothauge) to explain the complexity of the situation.
Our diocese is almost entirely composed of small (“family-size”) and medium-small (“pastoral-size”) congregations, with only one or two in the medium (“transition-to-program-size”) category. Groups in those size ranges vary considerably in their expectations about clergy role in leadership, communication, and new-member incorporation.
Small (up to about 75 average Sunday attendance) congregations are led by a small number of long-time members who are the go-to persons for any information about the church, and who ultimately make the important decisions about activities and events, finances, and acceptance of a new member. The clergy can be as welcoming as they want, but their contact cannot take the place of acceptance from these lay leaders. Introducing a prospective new member to the “patriarchs and matriarchs” and facilitating their getting to know and trust one another is essential to working new members into the small church. The clergy person, when he has a good relationship with the leaders (as he must, to survive), can help, but not control, that process. A visit from the priest probably doesn’t matter much: a phone call from the Altar Guild leader or a Warden can be a real sign of welcome and acceptance.
Medium-small (75 to 140-ish in ASA) congregations are clergy led. Yes, totally opposite. Clergy make or lead most decisions, and clergy are the ones who know everyone and know everything on the calendar (because they put it there.) You are a member of the congregation when the rector invites you to be. You know you matter to the congregation when the rector knows you (by name and particulars) and especially when she specifically invites you to take part in some parish activity. Of course, the friendliness and welcome of everyone matters—but if the priest does not remember your name, you’re toast in that congregation. Obviously, in this sociological setting, being visited by the clergy-person is very important to any prospective new member.
There is that other factor, though, of prior experience with church to consider. Has the person had a negative experience previously, and did it involve clergy? Has the person had a particularly close or happy pastoral relationship, with high expectations to match? Is the previous congregation either a family-size one or a pastoral-size one (we always think that what we’ve known in the past is normative.) Or, as is increasingly common, is this the first and only church experience the person has? Gently and politely finding out this information is a very important responsibility of the greeter team who welcome people on their first visit to the church. If, with sensitivity and genuine interest, they can discover and pass along to the clergy answers to these questions, the priest can accurately assess what kind of clergy response may be best in each particular situation.
Most of the time, a hand-written note of welcome from the rector or missioner of the congregation is an ideal first response, and it should arrive during the week following that first visit to worship. However, some congregations have a guest card or register in which the question is asked, “Would you like a call or visit from the clergy?” If that box is checked “yes,” then that call or visit has to take place right away, during that first week—and if the priest is to be away, then a card must be sent explaining that, with promise to call asap upon return.
There was a time when clergy had special license to drop in on anybody at any time. (That’s why the huge family Bible sat out on the coffee table to be dusted every week.) That time has passed. Now, unless we have specifically been told not to by an individual, we call in advance and inquire when a visit would be convenient.
It also used to be that home visits were always welcome. That may not necessarily be so today. The rise of coffee shops is a great solution to this dilemma. Now, we can say, “Would it be convenient for me to come by, or would you like to meet me at Espresso’s on the corner?” and we provide a comfortable alternative for anyone who, for whatever reason, is loathe to have a clergy visit at home. When the clergy family situation is conducive, it can also be helpful to invite newcomers, perhaps several at once, to the clergy home for a getting-acquainted visit (and in the pastoral size congregation, that would feel like a very welcome gesture.) Warm weather makes for opportunities for grilling on the deck or desserts on the patio or porch, which might seem even more comfortable for some.
If all this makes it seem terribly complicated, trying to figure out who would like to have a clergy visit and who would not, that’s because it is. Opportunities for small faux pas abound. There is one mistake that is just too big to make, though, and that is the mistake of clergy ignoring the matter entirely, and thereby alienating most everyone. Conveniently, there is one back-up solution that almost always works: just ask them what they would prefer. Who doesn’t like to be given a choice?
The welcome and inclusion of new members is not exclusively a clergy activity: it is a partnership between clergy and lay ministers in any congregation, and in many cases, the lay involvement is paramount.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
A Volley from the Cannon, #46
CLUTTER
Is your congregation a pack-rat church? If so, you are not alone in our diocese.
Is it a place where no one has the courage to throw anything away, or pass it along to someone who can use it, no matter how long it has laid underfoot or clogged the closets?
Do people in your congregation believe they have to hang—forever—every gift of art or achmaltz ever given, even the ecclesiastical equivalent of poker-playing dogs on velvet, whether or not it adds anything to the devotional use of the space?
This will take some chutzpah, but it could also be much appreciated by many: first, gather some allies; then, pick a room (how about one that was last decorated by the ECW in the 1970’s?), or even the worship space of the church itself, and remove everything from its walls. Leave them bare for six months to a year, until you’ve had time for what was there before to fade from memory. Repaint or refinish the walls. Then prayerfully consider what piece of art or decorative object “cries out” to be there. What fits the period, the style, the purpose, the location? Even consult a professional about color, shape, and scale, if you lack those skills. The object is to place ONLY those pieces of decorative art that advance the spiritual life of the congregation, and place them where they have the greatest impact—all the while keeping the focus on the point of reference for the entire church, the altar.
There needs to be some place in the church that is the “refrigerator door” of congregational life. It need not be the whole building, though. The church can be a place to be freed from the clutter of our lives, both aesthetic and spiritual.
Is your congregation a pack-rat church? If so, you are not alone in our diocese.
Is it a place where no one has the courage to throw anything away, or pass it along to someone who can use it, no matter how long it has laid underfoot or clogged the closets?
Do people in your congregation believe they have to hang—forever—every gift of art or achmaltz ever given, even the ecclesiastical equivalent of poker-playing dogs on velvet, whether or not it adds anything to the devotional use of the space?
This will take some chutzpah, but it could also be much appreciated by many: first, gather some allies; then, pick a room (how about one that was last decorated by the ECW in the 1970’s?), or even the worship space of the church itself, and remove everything from its walls. Leave them bare for six months to a year, until you’ve had time for what was there before to fade from memory. Repaint or refinish the walls. Then prayerfully consider what piece of art or decorative object “cries out” to be there. What fits the period, the style, the purpose, the location? Even consult a professional about color, shape, and scale, if you lack those skills. The object is to place ONLY those pieces of decorative art that advance the spiritual life of the congregation, and place them where they have the greatest impact—all the while keeping the focus on the point of reference for the entire church, the altar.
There needs to be some place in the church that is the “refrigerator door” of congregational life. It need not be the whole building, though. The church can be a place to be freed from the clutter of our lives, both aesthetic and spiritual.
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #45 "For Example..."
FOR EXAMPLE…
Following up on last week (Volley # 44), here’s a family experience to illustrate. I know that many of our congregations have great ideas to share, and I hope we will hear your contributions, too.
Our son Daniel and his wife Chantal live in Charlotte, NC, near Huntersville. Soon after they moved there, Linda and I visited for the weekend, and we attended St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Huntersville, with them for their first visit (well, we parents do what we can to move things along.) St. Mark’s is a little country church that is no longer in the country. They’d almost have to resort to dire measures NOT to grow. On the contrary, however, they have called an energetic and dynamic rector, and an excellent preacher, the Rev. Sarah Hollar, Finding seats can be a problem, and they are planning their new building now. Their welcome was friendly and warm. They offered a very positive and affirming worship experience.
After worship, we went out for lunch. When we returned to their new home, we found a colorful bag hanging on the doorknob. The bag contained a church newsletter, a welcome note, and several little items like pens, chocolates, refrigerator magnets, etc. Both “kids” were impressed. Daniel, as a “PK,” is a pro of sorts with this sort of thing, but that didn’t detract from it at all—he was pleased, as anyone would be to be told specifically that he was wanted in this congregation. We must not just assume that people will know this: we need to tell them!
I know some congregations send out more symbolic gifts, like fresh-baked bread. That is great, if someone wants to take it on, on a weekly basis. But don’t keep bread in the freezer for occasional use! Freezer-burned bread makes a statement, but not the one we want to make.
St. Mark’s has fancy, engraved name-tags for their members—a danger area in my opinion (difficult to maintain consistently). But on their next visit, Daniel and Chantal found shiny new tags on the rack with their names on them! A+ for St. Mark’s!
Following up on last week (Volley # 44), here’s a family experience to illustrate. I know that many of our congregations have great ideas to share, and I hope we will hear your contributions, too.
Our son Daniel and his wife Chantal live in Charlotte, NC, near Huntersville. Soon after they moved there, Linda and I visited for the weekend, and we attended St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Huntersville, with them for their first visit (well, we parents do what we can to move things along.) St. Mark’s is a little country church that is no longer in the country. They’d almost have to resort to dire measures NOT to grow. On the contrary, however, they have called an energetic and dynamic rector, and an excellent preacher, the Rev. Sarah Hollar, Finding seats can be a problem, and they are planning their new building now. Their welcome was friendly and warm. They offered a very positive and affirming worship experience.
After worship, we went out for lunch. When we returned to their new home, we found a colorful bag hanging on the doorknob. The bag contained a church newsletter, a welcome note, and several little items like pens, chocolates, refrigerator magnets, etc. Both “kids” were impressed. Daniel, as a “PK,” is a pro of sorts with this sort of thing, but that didn’t detract from it at all—he was pleased, as anyone would be to be told specifically that he was wanted in this congregation. We must not just assume that people will know this: we need to tell them!
I know some congregations send out more symbolic gifts, like fresh-baked bread. That is great, if someone wants to take it on, on a weekly basis. But don’t keep bread in the freezer for occasional use! Freezer-burned bread makes a statement, but not the one we want to make.
St. Mark’s has fancy, engraved name-tags for their members—a danger area in my opinion (difficult to maintain consistently). But on their next visit, Daniel and Chantal found shiny new tags on the rack with their names on them! A+ for St. Mark’s!
A Volley from the Canon, #44, Now What?
NOW WHAT?
A new family showed up for church last Sunday. They were welcomed, and seemed to be comfortable with the congregation. They seemed happy to be in church, and appreciated the worship. Now what?
We used to drop the ball all too often on that “first date,” greeting and welcoming people. We’re doing much better now on that score, after great effort. Now, we need to pay attention also to the next step, helping people who visit a time or two to make the decision to become members of the congregation, and helping them to find a place for themselves there.
Step Number One is to follow up to that first visit with some kind of non-threatening contact. In many growing congregations, a lay person or two will drop by the home on Sunday afternoon, bearing some kind of welcome package. They don’t go inside, even if invited, and they limit their visit to about five minutes. They are just delivering a small gift, and reinforcing the idea of welcome. Note: the clergy person or spouse must not do this! That would be too threatening. It is surprising how impressed people are by this gesture, though. It makes a powerful statement, and it is well worth the investment in time and organization to the congregation.
People do want to hear from the clergy, however. A hand-written card is all it takes for the first contact. After another appearance at church or two, a phone call with an offer to visit in the home or at a coffee-bar would be in order. (Of course, if they have indicated a desire for a clergy visit, their request must be honored promptly.) That visit, when it occurs, is all-important—it can make or break the relationship with that prospective member (especially in the “pastoral” size congregation.)
If the congregation has “pre-made” name tags (which I do not recommend), then there had better be some with those people’s names on them, including the children, NEXT SUNDAY! Don’t make them ask for one, or let them look for one and not find it. This is no time to go stingy.
More to come, spread over the next several weeks….
A new family showed up for church last Sunday. They were welcomed, and seemed to be comfortable with the congregation. They seemed happy to be in church, and appreciated the worship. Now what?
We used to drop the ball all too often on that “first date,” greeting and welcoming people. We’re doing much better now on that score, after great effort. Now, we need to pay attention also to the next step, helping people who visit a time or two to make the decision to become members of the congregation, and helping them to find a place for themselves there.
Step Number One is to follow up to that first visit with some kind of non-threatening contact. In many growing congregations, a lay person or two will drop by the home on Sunday afternoon, bearing some kind of welcome package. They don’t go inside, even if invited, and they limit their visit to about five minutes. They are just delivering a small gift, and reinforcing the idea of welcome. Note: the clergy person or spouse must not do this! That would be too threatening. It is surprising how impressed people are by this gesture, though. It makes a powerful statement, and it is well worth the investment in time and organization to the congregation.
People do want to hear from the clergy, however. A hand-written card is all it takes for the first contact. After another appearance at church or two, a phone call with an offer to visit in the home or at a coffee-bar would be in order. (Of course, if they have indicated a desire for a clergy visit, their request must be honored promptly.) That visit, when it occurs, is all-important—it can make or break the relationship with that prospective member (especially in the “pastoral” size congregation.)
If the congregation has “pre-made” name tags (which I do not recommend), then there had better be some with those people’s names on them, including the children, NEXT SUNDAY! Don’t make them ask for one, or let them look for one and not find it. This is no time to go stingy.
More to come, spread over the next several weeks….
A Volley from the Canon, #43 Event Evangelism
EVENT EVANGELISM
The liturgical calendar is an attractive mystery to those who don’t live with it as we do, both churched and unchurched. Not only are our seasons color-coded, but so are our days of special observance. Just the fact that we have days of special observance puts us a leg up over many of our Christian neighbors.
We use the calendar to teach and inspire our own people, and to organize our common life. We have the further opportunity, however, to make great use of special seasons and events to attract others who are seeking to be taught and inspired, and who can appreciate some structure to organize their own spiritual lives. We’ve just observed Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, and now we are in the season of Lent, which has an amazing attraction for people one would not expect to be very keen on abstinence and penitence. (It always amazes me that we Episcopalians, as hedonistic as we are by nature, would be as serious about Lent as we are.) In the weeks ahead, we have not only more of Lent, but also the heaven-sent evangelistic advantage of Holy Week and Easter, and our deeply symbolic ways of honoring them.
If we are ever to invest in some advertizing, put up special signs or banners, send out fliers, and invite neighbors to attend worship with us, now is a great time for it. Passion Sunday, with its procession of palms and the dramatic reading of the Gospel; Maundy Thursday, with the washing of feet and that heart-wrenching stripping of the altar; Good Friday’s observance, in silence and awe; finally the Great Vigil of Easter and the Sunday of the Resurrection—who could possibly miss out on the messages of those powerful and moving remembrances, when they are done with reverence and care?
Our communities are filled with hungry hearts longing for a faith to take that seriously, as we ourselves once were. Let’s do the best we can to find them this year, and offer them sanctuary.
The liturgical calendar is an attractive mystery to those who don’t live with it as we do, both churched and unchurched. Not only are our seasons color-coded, but so are our days of special observance. Just the fact that we have days of special observance puts us a leg up over many of our Christian neighbors.
We use the calendar to teach and inspire our own people, and to organize our common life. We have the further opportunity, however, to make great use of special seasons and events to attract others who are seeking to be taught and inspired, and who can appreciate some structure to organize their own spiritual lives. We’ve just observed Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, and now we are in the season of Lent, which has an amazing attraction for people one would not expect to be very keen on abstinence and penitence. (It always amazes me that we Episcopalians, as hedonistic as we are by nature, would be as serious about Lent as we are.) In the weeks ahead, we have not only more of Lent, but also the heaven-sent evangelistic advantage of Holy Week and Easter, and our deeply symbolic ways of honoring them.
If we are ever to invest in some advertizing, put up special signs or banners, send out fliers, and invite neighbors to attend worship with us, now is a great time for it. Passion Sunday, with its procession of palms and the dramatic reading of the Gospel; Maundy Thursday, with the washing of feet and that heart-wrenching stripping of the altar; Good Friday’s observance, in silence and awe; finally the Great Vigil of Easter and the Sunday of the Resurrection—who could possibly miss out on the messages of those powerful and moving remembrances, when they are done with reverence and care?
Our communities are filled with hungry hearts longing for a faith to take that seriously, as we ourselves once were. Let’s do the best we can to find them this year, and offer them sanctuary.
Friday, March 6, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #42
SPOT-POLLING
Do you occasionally want to know what members of your congregation think about a recent experience or innovation, or a possible one being considered? Would you like to increase the people’s “stake” in the practices of the congregation? Help folks feel more involved and more valued? Add a motive for regular attendance at coffee hour, or whatever fellowship activity surrounds worship? Try “Spot-Polling.”
Here’s how you do it: Place a newsprint easel pad on an easel near the entrance to the gathering area. On the top sheet, neatly print the question, clearly and unambiguously worded, that you want feedback on. Add the list of options that are reasonable and acceptable possibilities, with a “blank” drawn beside each one. Leave some marking pens on the easel tray or where they can be easily found. Invite each person present to indicate his or her preference on the question by making “their mark” in the appropriate blank. Each person may vote once (though there could be a circumstance in which you might solicit their top two or top three choices. Be clear with instructions in that case.)
Add them up at the end, and next week, report the result. Voila! You have your answer.
Only persons present can vote. No absentee or remedial ballots. Next time, be there!
A caveat: don’t poll on a question you don’t really want to know the answer to, or that you’ve already made your mind up on! Don’t poll on something that someone else has a right to decide. Don’t overdo this and render your vestry irrelevant. But for occasional, limited, and appropriate use, this method will give you quick, helpful information and important morale benefits, too.
Do you occasionally want to know what members of your congregation think about a recent experience or innovation, or a possible one being considered? Would you like to increase the people’s “stake” in the practices of the congregation? Help folks feel more involved and more valued? Add a motive for regular attendance at coffee hour, or whatever fellowship activity surrounds worship? Try “Spot-Polling.”
Here’s how you do it: Place a newsprint easel pad on an easel near the entrance to the gathering area. On the top sheet, neatly print the question, clearly and unambiguously worded, that you want feedback on. Add the list of options that are reasonable and acceptable possibilities, with a “blank” drawn beside each one. Leave some marking pens on the easel tray or where they can be easily found. Invite each person present to indicate his or her preference on the question by making “their mark” in the appropriate blank. Each person may vote once (though there could be a circumstance in which you might solicit their top two or top three choices. Be clear with instructions in that case.)
Add them up at the end, and next week, report the result. Voila! You have your answer.
Only persons present can vote. No absentee or remedial ballots. Next time, be there!
A caveat: don’t poll on a question you don’t really want to know the answer to, or that you’ve already made your mind up on! Don’t poll on something that someone else has a right to decide. Don’t overdo this and render your vestry irrelevant. But for occasional, limited, and appropriate use, this method will give you quick, helpful information and important morale benefits, too.
A Volley from the Canon, #41
A LENTEN DISCIPLINE
One table group at the recent Anti-Racism training in Wheeling was discussing the readiness of people to accept change in their church experience, and they came up with a suggestion for a Lenten discipline. Each Sunday during Lent, sit in a completely different place in the church, and take note of how it feels. How is the worship experience different? What new perceptions are gained, and what is lost? Can you even do it—and what would that mean?
Why not give it a shot?
Bonus thought: “If the people in the pews of your church do not look like the people on the street outside your church, your congregation is dying.”
One table group at the recent Anti-Racism training in Wheeling was discussing the readiness of people to accept change in their church experience, and they came up with a suggestion for a Lenten discipline. Each Sunday during Lent, sit in a completely different place in the church, and take note of how it feels. How is the worship experience different? What new perceptions are gained, and what is lost? Can you even do it—and what would that mean?
Why not give it a shot?
Bonus thought: “If the people in the pews of your church do not look like the people on the street outside your church, your congregation is dying.”
Sunday, February 22, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #40
Roll Over, Beethoven, Revisited
A speaker at TENS Conference (aren’t y’all glad I went to that?) offered an observation that made me sit up straighter for a few minutes. He said that we Baby Boomers must not assume that one of our most firmly-held convictions-- that the language and music of worship must be revised to suit our present theological, social, and artistic sensibilities—will be shared by our children and our children’s children. This development would delight those of our parents who are still living, but it will be a huge challenge to the present “established” generation, especially those who have worked so tirelessly, and with the conviction of absolute certainty, for inclusive language. [Yes, we Boomers are the generation in power now, a difficult concept for us to grasp, since we have defined ourselves as those who “rage against the Machine.” Now, we ARE the machine.]
A word of comfort: it is not that our children do not agree with us on such matters as gender equality and “diversity,” with all the layers of blending that code word implies. It is just that their minds are not fixated on the struggle, which they see as our struggle, not theirs. They are past that. Our battle was over “inclusion.” Theirs might be better identified as “connection.” “I am more than the sum of my cell-phone directory,” I heard someone say. Younger adults and teens crave connection with something larger than themselves and the present moment. Example: the Latin mass is back in the Roman Catholic Church. It doesn’t matter that younger people understand it even less than their parents did. It matters that it bridges the centuries. “Mystery” is in--again.
Here we sit, this Episcopal Church that defines itself as being larger than the present moment. All of a sudden, we may not be so out of it after all. Wouldn’t it be funny if we completed our shift into cultural relevancy in the eyes of one generation just in time to become irrelevant to the next one. Some implications for us:
• Rite One may not be dead after all. Book of Common Prayer 1662 may not be, either!
• The way we DO liturgy may be more important than the liturgy itself. Inclusive, yes—transcendent, even more so.
• We don’t need to give up on chant, even very ancient forms, to reach moderns. We need to make those forms more accessible by teaching, repetition, and practice.
• Deliberate excursions into historic practices may bear fruit. Take heart, religious communities, you may become cool again!
• Our rootedness in history doesn’t make us passé. It makes us more genuine.
All this does not mean that we can put the brakes on developing new, contemporary, “emerging church” liturgies. It just means that life continues to get more complicated, not less so. The successful congregation may be the one that does, well something, authentically and well.
A speaker at TENS Conference (aren’t y’all glad I went to that?) offered an observation that made me sit up straighter for a few minutes. He said that we Baby Boomers must not assume that one of our most firmly-held convictions-- that the language and music of worship must be revised to suit our present theological, social, and artistic sensibilities—will be shared by our children and our children’s children. This development would delight those of our parents who are still living, but it will be a huge challenge to the present “established” generation, especially those who have worked so tirelessly, and with the conviction of absolute certainty, for inclusive language. [Yes, we Boomers are the generation in power now, a difficult concept for us to grasp, since we have defined ourselves as those who “rage against the Machine.” Now, we ARE the machine.]
A word of comfort: it is not that our children do not agree with us on such matters as gender equality and “diversity,” with all the layers of blending that code word implies. It is just that their minds are not fixated on the struggle, which they see as our struggle, not theirs. They are past that. Our battle was over “inclusion.” Theirs might be better identified as “connection.” “I am more than the sum of my cell-phone directory,” I heard someone say. Younger adults and teens crave connection with something larger than themselves and the present moment. Example: the Latin mass is back in the Roman Catholic Church. It doesn’t matter that younger people understand it even less than their parents did. It matters that it bridges the centuries. “Mystery” is in--again.
Here we sit, this Episcopal Church that defines itself as being larger than the present moment. All of a sudden, we may not be so out of it after all. Wouldn’t it be funny if we completed our shift into cultural relevancy in the eyes of one generation just in time to become irrelevant to the next one. Some implications for us:
• Rite One may not be dead after all. Book of Common Prayer 1662 may not be, either!
• The way we DO liturgy may be more important than the liturgy itself. Inclusive, yes—transcendent, even more so.
• We don’t need to give up on chant, even very ancient forms, to reach moderns. We need to make those forms more accessible by teaching, repetition, and practice.
• Deliberate excursions into historic practices may bear fruit. Take heart, religious communities, you may become cool again!
• Our rootedness in history doesn’t make us passé. It makes us more genuine.
All this does not mean that we can put the brakes on developing new, contemporary, “emerging church” liturgies. It just means that life continues to get more complicated, not less so. The successful congregation may be the one that does, well something, authentically and well.
A Volley from the Canon, #39
TIPS FOR SMALL CONGREGATIONS
At the TENS Conference (The Episcopal Network for Stewardship) last week in Tennessee, my counterpart for the Diocese of North Carolina, Bill Renn, made some comments on small congregations that I find worthy of passing along. Bill says that it is really easier for a small congregation to become a healthy congregation than it is for a large one: fewer people to get transformed! A congregation becomes a healthy congregation, he says, when its member know and embrace their mission, and take it as their ministry to accomplish it (gee, that sounds familiar—but remember, this is from Bill!)
“Don’t do bad liturgy!” he warns. If you have a choir of three, and they don’t sound so good, don’t have a choir! (See why I’m quoting him by name here?) If there are twelve in the congregation and the quality of their singing ranges from inaudible to wish-it-were-inaudible, then don’t sing hymns! If your organist sounds like the funeral parlor musician she is, complete with that out-of-control base pedal, then don’t have an organist! It is better to have no music at all than to have bad music.
How do we have an effective liturgy, then, without music to fall back on? With careful planning and execution, that’s how. First, anyone who is to read scripture must be selected for their skill, not just their willingness. Both the prayers and the lessons must be delivered clearly and distinctly, and with some expression. If the liturgy does not sound like it has any meaning to the readers, then it won’t to the listeners, either. The judicious use of silence is a great substitute for music, too. What would be wrong with providing the opportunity for private prayer in worship? An appropriate poem or dramatic reading, well selected and well presented, could easily take the place of music. And how about the worship space itself? A piece of art for the occasion, or an arrangement of significant objects, in a place where they could be viewed by the congregation, could contribute significantly to worship. Even moving furnishings around (horrors!) to emphasize a season or a point from a lesson could be meaningful. Rote worship can be thrown together in minutes with little planning and no practice, but good and meaningful worship takes time and planning. Yet it is the responsibility of all worship leaders to provide spiritually enriching worship experiences every time we invite people to gather at the church.
At the bottom of it, the point is that small churches should not strain to act like big churches. Why have a “procession” consisting of the priest carrying the processional cross, and nobody following, just because the one enrolled acolyte slept in that morning? A procession is not a requirement for Episcopal worship, and it is a device for moving numbers of people into the worship space. If we don’t have the numbers, we don’t need the device.
Small congregations can be wonderful communities, rich in relationships and spiritual depth. They just need to know and claim who they are, and give up trying to be what they are not.
At the TENS Conference (The Episcopal Network for Stewardship) last week in Tennessee, my counterpart for the Diocese of North Carolina, Bill Renn, made some comments on small congregations that I find worthy of passing along. Bill says that it is really easier for a small congregation to become a healthy congregation than it is for a large one: fewer people to get transformed! A congregation becomes a healthy congregation, he says, when its member know and embrace their mission, and take it as their ministry to accomplish it (gee, that sounds familiar—but remember, this is from Bill!)
“Don’t do bad liturgy!” he warns. If you have a choir of three, and they don’t sound so good, don’t have a choir! (See why I’m quoting him by name here?) If there are twelve in the congregation and the quality of their singing ranges from inaudible to wish-it-were-inaudible, then don’t sing hymns! If your organist sounds like the funeral parlor musician she is, complete with that out-of-control base pedal, then don’t have an organist! It is better to have no music at all than to have bad music.
How do we have an effective liturgy, then, without music to fall back on? With careful planning and execution, that’s how. First, anyone who is to read scripture must be selected for their skill, not just their willingness. Both the prayers and the lessons must be delivered clearly and distinctly, and with some expression. If the liturgy does not sound like it has any meaning to the readers, then it won’t to the listeners, either. The judicious use of silence is a great substitute for music, too. What would be wrong with providing the opportunity for private prayer in worship? An appropriate poem or dramatic reading, well selected and well presented, could easily take the place of music. And how about the worship space itself? A piece of art for the occasion, or an arrangement of significant objects, in a place where they could be viewed by the congregation, could contribute significantly to worship. Even moving furnishings around (horrors!) to emphasize a season or a point from a lesson could be meaningful. Rote worship can be thrown together in minutes with little planning and no practice, but good and meaningful worship takes time and planning. Yet it is the responsibility of all worship leaders to provide spiritually enriching worship experiences every time we invite people to gather at the church.
At the bottom of it, the point is that small churches should not strain to act like big churches. Why have a “procession” consisting of the priest carrying the processional cross, and nobody following, just because the one enrolled acolyte slept in that morning? A procession is not a requirement for Episcopal worship, and it is a device for moving numbers of people into the worship space. If we don’t have the numbers, we don’t need the device.
Small congregations can be wonderful communities, rich in relationships and spiritual depth. They just need to know and claim who they are, and give up trying to be what they are not.
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