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.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
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.
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