NEW MEMBERS AND CLERGY CONTACT
It sounds so simple. Of course, everyone who visits a congregation for the first time would love to be contacted right away by the rector or missioner of the congregation, right? The sooner the better! Why not have them just drop in?
But whoa! Not so fast! While it is common for a couple or individual who visit a church for the first time to have that attitude, it is far from universal. Much depends on their former experience with church which, if they are newcomers, may be unknown. We also may need a quick review of Sizing Up Your Congregation (Alban Institute, Arlin Rothauge) to explain the complexity of the situation.
Our diocese is almost entirely composed of small (“family-size”) and medium-small (“pastoral-size”) congregations, with only one or two in the medium (“transition-to-program-size”) category. Groups in those size ranges vary considerably in their expectations about clergy role in leadership, communication, and new-member incorporation.
Small (up to about 75 average Sunday attendance) congregations are led by a small number of long-time members who are the go-to persons for any information about the church, and who ultimately make the important decisions about activities and events, finances, and acceptance of a new member. The clergy can be as welcoming as they want, but their contact cannot take the place of acceptance from these lay leaders. Introducing a prospective new member to the “patriarchs and matriarchs” and facilitating their getting to know and trust one another is essential to working new members into the small church. The clergy person, when he has a good relationship with the leaders (as he must, to survive), can help, but not control, that process. A visit from the priest probably doesn’t matter much: a phone call from the Altar Guild leader or a Warden can be a real sign of welcome and acceptance.
Medium-small (75 to 140-ish in ASA) congregations are clergy led. Yes, totally opposite. Clergy make or lead most decisions, and clergy are the ones who know everyone and know everything on the calendar (because they put it there.) You are a member of the congregation when the rector invites you to be. You know you matter to the congregation when the rector knows you (by name and particulars) and especially when she specifically invites you to take part in some parish activity. Of course, the friendliness and welcome of everyone matters—but if the priest does not remember your name, you’re toast in that congregation. Obviously, in this sociological setting, being visited by the clergy-person is very important to any prospective new member.
There is that other factor, though, of prior experience with church to consider. Has the person had a negative experience previously, and did it involve clergy? Has the person had a particularly close or happy pastoral relationship, with high expectations to match? Is the previous congregation either a family-size one or a pastoral-size one (we always think that what we’ve known in the past is normative.) Or, as is increasingly common, is this the first and only church experience the person has? Gently and politely finding out this information is a very important responsibility of the greeter team who welcome people on their first visit to the church. If, with sensitivity and genuine interest, they can discover and pass along to the clergy answers to these questions, the priest can accurately assess what kind of clergy response may be best in each particular situation.
Most of the time, a hand-written note of welcome from the rector or missioner of the congregation is an ideal first response, and it should arrive during the week following that first visit to worship. However, some congregations have a guest card or register in which the question is asked, “Would you like a call or visit from the clergy?” If that box is checked “yes,” then that call or visit has to take place right away, during that first week—and if the priest is to be away, then a card must be sent explaining that, with promise to call asap upon return.
There was a time when clergy had special license to drop in on anybody at any time. (That’s why the huge family Bible sat out on the coffee table to be dusted every week.) That time has passed. Now, unless we have specifically been told not to by an individual, we call in advance and inquire when a visit would be convenient.
It also used to be that home visits were always welcome. That may not necessarily be so today. The rise of coffee shops is a great solution to this dilemma. Now, we can say, “Would it be convenient for me to come by, or would you like to meet me at Espresso’s on the corner?” and we provide a comfortable alternative for anyone who, for whatever reason, is loathe to have a clergy visit at home. When the clergy family situation is conducive, it can also be helpful to invite newcomers, perhaps several at once, to the clergy home for a getting-acquainted visit (and in the pastoral size congregation, that would feel like a very welcome gesture.) Warm weather makes for opportunities for grilling on the deck or desserts on the patio or porch, which might seem even more comfortable for some.
If all this makes it seem terribly complicated, trying to figure out who would like to have a clergy visit and who would not, that’s because it is. Opportunities for small faux pas abound. There is one mistake that is just too big to make, though, and that is the mistake of clergy ignoring the matter entirely, and thereby alienating most everyone. Conveniently, there is one back-up solution that almost always works: just ask them what they would prefer. Who doesn’t like to be given a choice?
The welcome and inclusion of new members is not exclusively a clergy activity: it is a partnership between clergy and lay ministers in any congregation, and in many cases, the lay involvement is paramount.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
A Volley from the Cannon, #46
CLUTTER
Is your congregation a pack-rat church? If so, you are not alone in our diocese.
Is it a place where no one has the courage to throw anything away, or pass it along to someone who can use it, no matter how long it has laid underfoot or clogged the closets?
Do people in your congregation believe they have to hang—forever—every gift of art or achmaltz ever given, even the ecclesiastical equivalent of poker-playing dogs on velvet, whether or not it adds anything to the devotional use of the space?
This will take some chutzpah, but it could also be much appreciated by many: first, gather some allies; then, pick a room (how about one that was last decorated by the ECW in the 1970’s?), or even the worship space of the church itself, and remove everything from its walls. Leave them bare for six months to a year, until you’ve had time for what was there before to fade from memory. Repaint or refinish the walls. Then prayerfully consider what piece of art or decorative object “cries out” to be there. What fits the period, the style, the purpose, the location? Even consult a professional about color, shape, and scale, if you lack those skills. The object is to place ONLY those pieces of decorative art that advance the spiritual life of the congregation, and place them where they have the greatest impact—all the while keeping the focus on the point of reference for the entire church, the altar.
There needs to be some place in the church that is the “refrigerator door” of congregational life. It need not be the whole building, though. The church can be a place to be freed from the clutter of our lives, both aesthetic and spiritual.
Is your congregation a pack-rat church? If so, you are not alone in our diocese.
Is it a place where no one has the courage to throw anything away, or pass it along to someone who can use it, no matter how long it has laid underfoot or clogged the closets?
Do people in your congregation believe they have to hang—forever—every gift of art or achmaltz ever given, even the ecclesiastical equivalent of poker-playing dogs on velvet, whether or not it adds anything to the devotional use of the space?
This will take some chutzpah, but it could also be much appreciated by many: first, gather some allies; then, pick a room (how about one that was last decorated by the ECW in the 1970’s?), or even the worship space of the church itself, and remove everything from its walls. Leave them bare for six months to a year, until you’ve had time for what was there before to fade from memory. Repaint or refinish the walls. Then prayerfully consider what piece of art or decorative object “cries out” to be there. What fits the period, the style, the purpose, the location? Even consult a professional about color, shape, and scale, if you lack those skills. The object is to place ONLY those pieces of decorative art that advance the spiritual life of the congregation, and place them where they have the greatest impact—all the while keeping the focus on the point of reference for the entire church, the altar.
There needs to be some place in the church that is the “refrigerator door” of congregational life. It need not be the whole building, though. The church can be a place to be freed from the clutter of our lives, both aesthetic and spiritual.
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #45 "For Example..."
FOR EXAMPLE…
Following up on last week (Volley # 44), here’s a family experience to illustrate. I know that many of our congregations have great ideas to share, and I hope we will hear your contributions, too.
Our son Daniel and his wife Chantal live in Charlotte, NC, near Huntersville. Soon after they moved there, Linda and I visited for the weekend, and we attended St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Huntersville, with them for their first visit (well, we parents do what we can to move things along.) St. Mark’s is a little country church that is no longer in the country. They’d almost have to resort to dire measures NOT to grow. On the contrary, however, they have called an energetic and dynamic rector, and an excellent preacher, the Rev. Sarah Hollar, Finding seats can be a problem, and they are planning their new building now. Their welcome was friendly and warm. They offered a very positive and affirming worship experience.
After worship, we went out for lunch. When we returned to their new home, we found a colorful bag hanging on the doorknob. The bag contained a church newsletter, a welcome note, and several little items like pens, chocolates, refrigerator magnets, etc. Both “kids” were impressed. Daniel, as a “PK,” is a pro of sorts with this sort of thing, but that didn’t detract from it at all—he was pleased, as anyone would be to be told specifically that he was wanted in this congregation. We must not just assume that people will know this: we need to tell them!
I know some congregations send out more symbolic gifts, like fresh-baked bread. That is great, if someone wants to take it on, on a weekly basis. But don’t keep bread in the freezer for occasional use! Freezer-burned bread makes a statement, but not the one we want to make.
St. Mark’s has fancy, engraved name-tags for their members—a danger area in my opinion (difficult to maintain consistently). But on their next visit, Daniel and Chantal found shiny new tags on the rack with their names on them! A+ for St. Mark’s!
Following up on last week (Volley # 44), here’s a family experience to illustrate. I know that many of our congregations have great ideas to share, and I hope we will hear your contributions, too.
Our son Daniel and his wife Chantal live in Charlotte, NC, near Huntersville. Soon after they moved there, Linda and I visited for the weekend, and we attended St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Huntersville, with them for their first visit (well, we parents do what we can to move things along.) St. Mark’s is a little country church that is no longer in the country. They’d almost have to resort to dire measures NOT to grow. On the contrary, however, they have called an energetic and dynamic rector, and an excellent preacher, the Rev. Sarah Hollar, Finding seats can be a problem, and they are planning their new building now. Their welcome was friendly and warm. They offered a very positive and affirming worship experience.
After worship, we went out for lunch. When we returned to their new home, we found a colorful bag hanging on the doorknob. The bag contained a church newsletter, a welcome note, and several little items like pens, chocolates, refrigerator magnets, etc. Both “kids” were impressed. Daniel, as a “PK,” is a pro of sorts with this sort of thing, but that didn’t detract from it at all—he was pleased, as anyone would be to be told specifically that he was wanted in this congregation. We must not just assume that people will know this: we need to tell them!
I know some congregations send out more symbolic gifts, like fresh-baked bread. That is great, if someone wants to take it on, on a weekly basis. But don’t keep bread in the freezer for occasional use! Freezer-burned bread makes a statement, but not the one we want to make.
St. Mark’s has fancy, engraved name-tags for their members—a danger area in my opinion (difficult to maintain consistently). But on their next visit, Daniel and Chantal found shiny new tags on the rack with their names on them! A+ for St. Mark’s!
A Volley from the Canon, #44, Now What?
NOW WHAT?
A new family showed up for church last Sunday. They were welcomed, and seemed to be comfortable with the congregation. They seemed happy to be in church, and appreciated the worship. Now what?
We used to drop the ball all too often on that “first date,” greeting and welcoming people. We’re doing much better now on that score, after great effort. Now, we need to pay attention also to the next step, helping people who visit a time or two to make the decision to become members of the congregation, and helping them to find a place for themselves there.
Step Number One is to follow up to that first visit with some kind of non-threatening contact. In many growing congregations, a lay person or two will drop by the home on Sunday afternoon, bearing some kind of welcome package. They don’t go inside, even if invited, and they limit their visit to about five minutes. They are just delivering a small gift, and reinforcing the idea of welcome. Note: the clergy person or spouse must not do this! That would be too threatening. It is surprising how impressed people are by this gesture, though. It makes a powerful statement, and it is well worth the investment in time and organization to the congregation.
People do want to hear from the clergy, however. A hand-written card is all it takes for the first contact. After another appearance at church or two, a phone call with an offer to visit in the home or at a coffee-bar would be in order. (Of course, if they have indicated a desire for a clergy visit, their request must be honored promptly.) That visit, when it occurs, is all-important—it can make or break the relationship with that prospective member (especially in the “pastoral” size congregation.)
If the congregation has “pre-made” name tags (which I do not recommend), then there had better be some with those people’s names on them, including the children, NEXT SUNDAY! Don’t make them ask for one, or let them look for one and not find it. This is no time to go stingy.
More to come, spread over the next several weeks….
A new family showed up for church last Sunday. They were welcomed, and seemed to be comfortable with the congregation. They seemed happy to be in church, and appreciated the worship. Now what?
We used to drop the ball all too often on that “first date,” greeting and welcoming people. We’re doing much better now on that score, after great effort. Now, we need to pay attention also to the next step, helping people who visit a time or two to make the decision to become members of the congregation, and helping them to find a place for themselves there.
Step Number One is to follow up to that first visit with some kind of non-threatening contact. In many growing congregations, a lay person or two will drop by the home on Sunday afternoon, bearing some kind of welcome package. They don’t go inside, even if invited, and they limit their visit to about five minutes. They are just delivering a small gift, and reinforcing the idea of welcome. Note: the clergy person or spouse must not do this! That would be too threatening. It is surprising how impressed people are by this gesture, though. It makes a powerful statement, and it is well worth the investment in time and organization to the congregation.
People do want to hear from the clergy, however. A hand-written card is all it takes for the first contact. After another appearance at church or two, a phone call with an offer to visit in the home or at a coffee-bar would be in order. (Of course, if they have indicated a desire for a clergy visit, their request must be honored promptly.) That visit, when it occurs, is all-important—it can make or break the relationship with that prospective member (especially in the “pastoral” size congregation.)
If the congregation has “pre-made” name tags (which I do not recommend), then there had better be some with those people’s names on them, including the children, NEXT SUNDAY! Don’t make them ask for one, or let them look for one and not find it. This is no time to go stingy.
More to come, spread over the next several weeks….
A Volley from the Canon, #43 Event Evangelism
EVENT EVANGELISM
The liturgical calendar is an attractive mystery to those who don’t live with it as we do, both churched and unchurched. Not only are our seasons color-coded, but so are our days of special observance. Just the fact that we have days of special observance puts us a leg up over many of our Christian neighbors.
We use the calendar to teach and inspire our own people, and to organize our common life. We have the further opportunity, however, to make great use of special seasons and events to attract others who are seeking to be taught and inspired, and who can appreciate some structure to organize their own spiritual lives. We’ve just observed Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, and now we are in the season of Lent, which has an amazing attraction for people one would not expect to be very keen on abstinence and penitence. (It always amazes me that we Episcopalians, as hedonistic as we are by nature, would be as serious about Lent as we are.) In the weeks ahead, we have not only more of Lent, but also the heaven-sent evangelistic advantage of Holy Week and Easter, and our deeply symbolic ways of honoring them.
If we are ever to invest in some advertizing, put up special signs or banners, send out fliers, and invite neighbors to attend worship with us, now is a great time for it. Passion Sunday, with its procession of palms and the dramatic reading of the Gospel; Maundy Thursday, with the washing of feet and that heart-wrenching stripping of the altar; Good Friday’s observance, in silence and awe; finally the Great Vigil of Easter and the Sunday of the Resurrection—who could possibly miss out on the messages of those powerful and moving remembrances, when they are done with reverence and care?
Our communities are filled with hungry hearts longing for a faith to take that seriously, as we ourselves once were. Let’s do the best we can to find them this year, and offer them sanctuary.
The liturgical calendar is an attractive mystery to those who don’t live with it as we do, both churched and unchurched. Not only are our seasons color-coded, but so are our days of special observance. Just the fact that we have days of special observance puts us a leg up over many of our Christian neighbors.
We use the calendar to teach and inspire our own people, and to organize our common life. We have the further opportunity, however, to make great use of special seasons and events to attract others who are seeking to be taught and inspired, and who can appreciate some structure to organize their own spiritual lives. We’ve just observed Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, and now we are in the season of Lent, which has an amazing attraction for people one would not expect to be very keen on abstinence and penitence. (It always amazes me that we Episcopalians, as hedonistic as we are by nature, would be as serious about Lent as we are.) In the weeks ahead, we have not only more of Lent, but also the heaven-sent evangelistic advantage of Holy Week and Easter, and our deeply symbolic ways of honoring them.
If we are ever to invest in some advertizing, put up special signs or banners, send out fliers, and invite neighbors to attend worship with us, now is a great time for it. Passion Sunday, with its procession of palms and the dramatic reading of the Gospel; Maundy Thursday, with the washing of feet and that heart-wrenching stripping of the altar; Good Friday’s observance, in silence and awe; finally the Great Vigil of Easter and the Sunday of the Resurrection—who could possibly miss out on the messages of those powerful and moving remembrances, when they are done with reverence and care?
Our communities are filled with hungry hearts longing for a faith to take that seriously, as we ourselves once were. Let’s do the best we can to find them this year, and offer them sanctuary.
Friday, March 6, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #42
SPOT-POLLING
Do you occasionally want to know what members of your congregation think about a recent experience or innovation, or a possible one being considered? Would you like to increase the people’s “stake” in the practices of the congregation? Help folks feel more involved and more valued? Add a motive for regular attendance at coffee hour, or whatever fellowship activity surrounds worship? Try “Spot-Polling.”
Here’s how you do it: Place a newsprint easel pad on an easel near the entrance to the gathering area. On the top sheet, neatly print the question, clearly and unambiguously worded, that you want feedback on. Add the list of options that are reasonable and acceptable possibilities, with a “blank” drawn beside each one. Leave some marking pens on the easel tray or where they can be easily found. Invite each person present to indicate his or her preference on the question by making “their mark” in the appropriate blank. Each person may vote once (though there could be a circumstance in which you might solicit their top two or top three choices. Be clear with instructions in that case.)
Add them up at the end, and next week, report the result. Voila! You have your answer.
Only persons present can vote. No absentee or remedial ballots. Next time, be there!
A caveat: don’t poll on a question you don’t really want to know the answer to, or that you’ve already made your mind up on! Don’t poll on something that someone else has a right to decide. Don’t overdo this and render your vestry irrelevant. But for occasional, limited, and appropriate use, this method will give you quick, helpful information and important morale benefits, too.
Do you occasionally want to know what members of your congregation think about a recent experience or innovation, or a possible one being considered? Would you like to increase the people’s “stake” in the practices of the congregation? Help folks feel more involved and more valued? Add a motive for regular attendance at coffee hour, or whatever fellowship activity surrounds worship? Try “Spot-Polling.”
Here’s how you do it: Place a newsprint easel pad on an easel near the entrance to the gathering area. On the top sheet, neatly print the question, clearly and unambiguously worded, that you want feedback on. Add the list of options that are reasonable and acceptable possibilities, with a “blank” drawn beside each one. Leave some marking pens on the easel tray or where they can be easily found. Invite each person present to indicate his or her preference on the question by making “their mark” in the appropriate blank. Each person may vote once (though there could be a circumstance in which you might solicit their top two or top three choices. Be clear with instructions in that case.)
Add them up at the end, and next week, report the result. Voila! You have your answer.
Only persons present can vote. No absentee or remedial ballots. Next time, be there!
A caveat: don’t poll on a question you don’t really want to know the answer to, or that you’ve already made your mind up on! Don’t poll on something that someone else has a right to decide. Don’t overdo this and render your vestry irrelevant. But for occasional, limited, and appropriate use, this method will give you quick, helpful information and important morale benefits, too.
A Volley from the Canon, #41
A LENTEN DISCIPLINE
One table group at the recent Anti-Racism training in Wheeling was discussing the readiness of people to accept change in their church experience, and they came up with a suggestion for a Lenten discipline. Each Sunday during Lent, sit in a completely different place in the church, and take note of how it feels. How is the worship experience different? What new perceptions are gained, and what is lost? Can you even do it—and what would that mean?
Why not give it a shot?
Bonus thought: “If the people in the pews of your church do not look like the people on the street outside your church, your congregation is dying.”
One table group at the recent Anti-Racism training in Wheeling was discussing the readiness of people to accept change in their church experience, and they came up with a suggestion for a Lenten discipline. Each Sunday during Lent, sit in a completely different place in the church, and take note of how it feels. How is the worship experience different? What new perceptions are gained, and what is lost? Can you even do it—and what would that mean?
Why not give it a shot?
Bonus thought: “If the people in the pews of your church do not look like the people on the street outside your church, your congregation is dying.”
Sunday, February 22, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #40
Roll Over, Beethoven, Revisited
A speaker at TENS Conference (aren’t y’all glad I went to that?) offered an observation that made me sit up straighter for a few minutes. He said that we Baby Boomers must not assume that one of our most firmly-held convictions-- that the language and music of worship must be revised to suit our present theological, social, and artistic sensibilities—will be shared by our children and our children’s children. This development would delight those of our parents who are still living, but it will be a huge challenge to the present “established” generation, especially those who have worked so tirelessly, and with the conviction of absolute certainty, for inclusive language. [Yes, we Boomers are the generation in power now, a difficult concept for us to grasp, since we have defined ourselves as those who “rage against the Machine.” Now, we ARE the machine.]
A word of comfort: it is not that our children do not agree with us on such matters as gender equality and “diversity,” with all the layers of blending that code word implies. It is just that their minds are not fixated on the struggle, which they see as our struggle, not theirs. They are past that. Our battle was over “inclusion.” Theirs might be better identified as “connection.” “I am more than the sum of my cell-phone directory,” I heard someone say. Younger adults and teens crave connection with something larger than themselves and the present moment. Example: the Latin mass is back in the Roman Catholic Church. It doesn’t matter that younger people understand it even less than their parents did. It matters that it bridges the centuries. “Mystery” is in--again.
Here we sit, this Episcopal Church that defines itself as being larger than the present moment. All of a sudden, we may not be so out of it after all. Wouldn’t it be funny if we completed our shift into cultural relevancy in the eyes of one generation just in time to become irrelevant to the next one. Some implications for us:
• Rite One may not be dead after all. Book of Common Prayer 1662 may not be, either!
• The way we DO liturgy may be more important than the liturgy itself. Inclusive, yes—transcendent, even more so.
• We don’t need to give up on chant, even very ancient forms, to reach moderns. We need to make those forms more accessible by teaching, repetition, and practice.
• Deliberate excursions into historic practices may bear fruit. Take heart, religious communities, you may become cool again!
• Our rootedness in history doesn’t make us passé. It makes us more genuine.
All this does not mean that we can put the brakes on developing new, contemporary, “emerging church” liturgies. It just means that life continues to get more complicated, not less so. The successful congregation may be the one that does, well something, authentically and well.
A speaker at TENS Conference (aren’t y’all glad I went to that?) offered an observation that made me sit up straighter for a few minutes. He said that we Baby Boomers must not assume that one of our most firmly-held convictions-- that the language and music of worship must be revised to suit our present theological, social, and artistic sensibilities—will be shared by our children and our children’s children. This development would delight those of our parents who are still living, but it will be a huge challenge to the present “established” generation, especially those who have worked so tirelessly, and with the conviction of absolute certainty, for inclusive language. [Yes, we Boomers are the generation in power now, a difficult concept for us to grasp, since we have defined ourselves as those who “rage against the Machine.” Now, we ARE the machine.]
A word of comfort: it is not that our children do not agree with us on such matters as gender equality and “diversity,” with all the layers of blending that code word implies. It is just that their minds are not fixated on the struggle, which they see as our struggle, not theirs. They are past that. Our battle was over “inclusion.” Theirs might be better identified as “connection.” “I am more than the sum of my cell-phone directory,” I heard someone say. Younger adults and teens crave connection with something larger than themselves and the present moment. Example: the Latin mass is back in the Roman Catholic Church. It doesn’t matter that younger people understand it even less than their parents did. It matters that it bridges the centuries. “Mystery” is in--again.
Here we sit, this Episcopal Church that defines itself as being larger than the present moment. All of a sudden, we may not be so out of it after all. Wouldn’t it be funny if we completed our shift into cultural relevancy in the eyes of one generation just in time to become irrelevant to the next one. Some implications for us:
• Rite One may not be dead after all. Book of Common Prayer 1662 may not be, either!
• The way we DO liturgy may be more important than the liturgy itself. Inclusive, yes—transcendent, even more so.
• We don’t need to give up on chant, even very ancient forms, to reach moderns. We need to make those forms more accessible by teaching, repetition, and practice.
• Deliberate excursions into historic practices may bear fruit. Take heart, religious communities, you may become cool again!
• Our rootedness in history doesn’t make us passé. It makes us more genuine.
All this does not mean that we can put the brakes on developing new, contemporary, “emerging church” liturgies. It just means that life continues to get more complicated, not less so. The successful congregation may be the one that does, well something, authentically and well.
A Volley from the Canon, #39
TIPS FOR SMALL CONGREGATIONS
At the TENS Conference (The Episcopal Network for Stewardship) last week in Tennessee, my counterpart for the Diocese of North Carolina, Bill Renn, made some comments on small congregations that I find worthy of passing along. Bill says that it is really easier for a small congregation to become a healthy congregation than it is for a large one: fewer people to get transformed! A congregation becomes a healthy congregation, he says, when its member know and embrace their mission, and take it as their ministry to accomplish it (gee, that sounds familiar—but remember, this is from Bill!)
“Don’t do bad liturgy!” he warns. If you have a choir of three, and they don’t sound so good, don’t have a choir! (See why I’m quoting him by name here?) If there are twelve in the congregation and the quality of their singing ranges from inaudible to wish-it-were-inaudible, then don’t sing hymns! If your organist sounds like the funeral parlor musician she is, complete with that out-of-control base pedal, then don’t have an organist! It is better to have no music at all than to have bad music.
How do we have an effective liturgy, then, without music to fall back on? With careful planning and execution, that’s how. First, anyone who is to read scripture must be selected for their skill, not just their willingness. Both the prayers and the lessons must be delivered clearly and distinctly, and with some expression. If the liturgy does not sound like it has any meaning to the readers, then it won’t to the listeners, either. The judicious use of silence is a great substitute for music, too. What would be wrong with providing the opportunity for private prayer in worship? An appropriate poem or dramatic reading, well selected and well presented, could easily take the place of music. And how about the worship space itself? A piece of art for the occasion, or an arrangement of significant objects, in a place where they could be viewed by the congregation, could contribute significantly to worship. Even moving furnishings around (horrors!) to emphasize a season or a point from a lesson could be meaningful. Rote worship can be thrown together in minutes with little planning and no practice, but good and meaningful worship takes time and planning. Yet it is the responsibility of all worship leaders to provide spiritually enriching worship experiences every time we invite people to gather at the church.
At the bottom of it, the point is that small churches should not strain to act like big churches. Why have a “procession” consisting of the priest carrying the processional cross, and nobody following, just because the one enrolled acolyte slept in that morning? A procession is not a requirement for Episcopal worship, and it is a device for moving numbers of people into the worship space. If we don’t have the numbers, we don’t need the device.
Small congregations can be wonderful communities, rich in relationships and spiritual depth. They just need to know and claim who they are, and give up trying to be what they are not.
At the TENS Conference (The Episcopal Network for Stewardship) last week in Tennessee, my counterpart for the Diocese of North Carolina, Bill Renn, made some comments on small congregations that I find worthy of passing along. Bill says that it is really easier for a small congregation to become a healthy congregation than it is for a large one: fewer people to get transformed! A congregation becomes a healthy congregation, he says, when its member know and embrace their mission, and take it as their ministry to accomplish it (gee, that sounds familiar—but remember, this is from Bill!)
“Don’t do bad liturgy!” he warns. If you have a choir of three, and they don’t sound so good, don’t have a choir! (See why I’m quoting him by name here?) If there are twelve in the congregation and the quality of their singing ranges from inaudible to wish-it-were-inaudible, then don’t sing hymns! If your organist sounds like the funeral parlor musician she is, complete with that out-of-control base pedal, then don’t have an organist! It is better to have no music at all than to have bad music.
How do we have an effective liturgy, then, without music to fall back on? With careful planning and execution, that’s how. First, anyone who is to read scripture must be selected for their skill, not just their willingness. Both the prayers and the lessons must be delivered clearly and distinctly, and with some expression. If the liturgy does not sound like it has any meaning to the readers, then it won’t to the listeners, either. The judicious use of silence is a great substitute for music, too. What would be wrong with providing the opportunity for private prayer in worship? An appropriate poem or dramatic reading, well selected and well presented, could easily take the place of music. And how about the worship space itself? A piece of art for the occasion, or an arrangement of significant objects, in a place where they could be viewed by the congregation, could contribute significantly to worship. Even moving furnishings around (horrors!) to emphasize a season or a point from a lesson could be meaningful. Rote worship can be thrown together in minutes with little planning and no practice, but good and meaningful worship takes time and planning. Yet it is the responsibility of all worship leaders to provide spiritually enriching worship experiences every time we invite people to gather at the church.
At the bottom of it, the point is that small churches should not strain to act like big churches. Why have a “procession” consisting of the priest carrying the processional cross, and nobody following, just because the one enrolled acolyte slept in that morning? A procession is not a requirement for Episcopal worship, and it is a device for moving numbers of people into the worship space. If we don’t have the numbers, we don’t need the device.
Small congregations can be wonderful communities, rich in relationships and spiritual depth. They just need to know and claim who they are, and give up trying to be what they are not.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A Volley from the Canon #38
SUNDAY CLOTHES
She had loved everything about the Sunday Eucharist, she reported--the music, the sermon, the prayers. Yes, people had been very welcoming and friendly. She experienced nothing of the guilt and rejection that had been laid on her in her former congregation. But feeling better about oneself is not accomplished in a single hour. The young single mother and her baby would not be coming back. “I just don’t have the clothes,” she admitted apologetically.
I had met her when I delivered some baby items to her housing-project apartment. We talked for a while, and I invited her to attend worship at our church. I was thrilled to see that she actually followed through, so much was she in need of a less harshly judgmental expression of Christianity. We did fine in word and deed. Then we blew our whole witness by wearing fancy clothes to church. We expressed our judgment on a different level.
This was when I discovered a gender gap in our congregation that I had previously been blind to. The younger men, particularly, had taken happily to my suggestion that some of us needed to be more casually dressed in worship in order not to intimidate the unwary newcomer. And when casually dressed, they looked—casual. But the women seemed unwilling or incapable of making that sacrifice. Even their jeans were imposing to the fashion-challenged.
And why not? I now wonder. They were just being themselves. They shouldn’t have to take turns looking sloppy, just to express their evangelistic zeal. Still, I wonder what became of that young woman, and others like her, torn between fire and brimstone on the one hand and an unreachable level of fashion achievement on the other.
Dr. Sherri Smith, of that congregation, later began an organization called “Dress for Success” to help women present themselves favorably for job interviews and new professional work environments. What a helpful idea! I wish I had known of it then. With a little tact and discretion (since she brought up the subject), perhaps I could have directed that young mother to some friendly and helpful women who would have been pleased to assist her in dressing and feeling more comfortable and acceptable in the new environment. Fitting in, after all, can work from more than one direction.
She had loved everything about the Sunday Eucharist, she reported--the music, the sermon, the prayers. Yes, people had been very welcoming and friendly. She experienced nothing of the guilt and rejection that had been laid on her in her former congregation. But feeling better about oneself is not accomplished in a single hour. The young single mother and her baby would not be coming back. “I just don’t have the clothes,” she admitted apologetically.
I had met her when I delivered some baby items to her housing-project apartment. We talked for a while, and I invited her to attend worship at our church. I was thrilled to see that she actually followed through, so much was she in need of a less harshly judgmental expression of Christianity. We did fine in word and deed. Then we blew our whole witness by wearing fancy clothes to church. We expressed our judgment on a different level.
This was when I discovered a gender gap in our congregation that I had previously been blind to. The younger men, particularly, had taken happily to my suggestion that some of us needed to be more casually dressed in worship in order not to intimidate the unwary newcomer. And when casually dressed, they looked—casual. But the women seemed unwilling or incapable of making that sacrifice. Even their jeans were imposing to the fashion-challenged.
And why not? I now wonder. They were just being themselves. They shouldn’t have to take turns looking sloppy, just to express their evangelistic zeal. Still, I wonder what became of that young woman, and others like her, torn between fire and brimstone on the one hand and an unreachable level of fashion achievement on the other.
Dr. Sherri Smith, of that congregation, later began an organization called “Dress for Success” to help women present themselves favorably for job interviews and new professional work environments. What a helpful idea! I wish I had known of it then. With a little tact and discretion (since she brought up the subject), perhaps I could have directed that young mother to some friendly and helpful women who would have been pleased to assist her in dressing and feeling more comfortable and acceptable in the new environment. Fitting in, after all, can work from more than one direction.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #37
“Space and Function”
Prior to 1975, I was not around in the Episcopal Church to know what people were thinking when they did things like build church buildings with no rest rooms, place parish halls at the bottom of long, steep steps or on the far side of cemeteries, purchase pews from some dungeon apparatus dealer, and tack on kneelers showing the brand name de Sade. Clearly, there was once a common understanding that attending church ought to hurt some, to be effective.
They may have been onto something, because the decline in mainline church attendance has coincided with the increase of mercies, in various forms: like letting the children miss the sermon and prayers, but get communion; the option of standing (or sitting, or wallowing on the floor, for that matter, depending on age) instead of kneeling; emphasis on shorter and sweeter sermons; allowance of casual dress. Be that as it may, our worship, since 1979, has shifted in its emphasis-- we are more community oriented, and less individualistic, more a community at prayer than a group of individuals praying in sync. That emphasis calls for changes in the way we worship, too, the way we structure worship, the way worship looks and feels. But there is an important liturgical principle that has not changed:
The Building Always Wins.
Many of us struggle to lead meaningful and varied worship in settings that were designed for one style, and one style only. Many of our buildings are old and venerable, perhaps even land-marked. We wouldn’t have the funds to replace them, as they really ought to be replaced, for public worship anyway, even if we had the desire to do so. I humbly submit, with the greatest apprehension, but also deep sincerity, this little tidbit of information for the prayerful consideration of those responsible for worship:
Even if a church building itself is protected as a historical structure (or should be), its furniture is not.
Just think about it.
Prior to 1975, I was not around in the Episcopal Church to know what people were thinking when they did things like build church buildings with no rest rooms, place parish halls at the bottom of long, steep steps or on the far side of cemeteries, purchase pews from some dungeon apparatus dealer, and tack on kneelers showing the brand name de Sade. Clearly, there was once a common understanding that attending church ought to hurt some, to be effective.
They may have been onto something, because the decline in mainline church attendance has coincided with the increase of mercies, in various forms: like letting the children miss the sermon and prayers, but get communion; the option of standing (or sitting, or wallowing on the floor, for that matter, depending on age) instead of kneeling; emphasis on shorter and sweeter sermons; allowance of casual dress. Be that as it may, our worship, since 1979, has shifted in its emphasis-- we are more community oriented, and less individualistic, more a community at prayer than a group of individuals praying in sync. That emphasis calls for changes in the way we worship, too, the way we structure worship, the way worship looks and feels. But there is an important liturgical principle that has not changed:
The Building Always Wins.
Many of us struggle to lead meaningful and varied worship in settings that were designed for one style, and one style only. Many of our buildings are old and venerable, perhaps even land-marked. We wouldn’t have the funds to replace them, as they really ought to be replaced, for public worship anyway, even if we had the desire to do so. I humbly submit, with the greatest apprehension, but also deep sincerity, this little tidbit of information for the prayerful consideration of those responsible for worship:
Even if a church building itself is protected as a historical structure (or should be), its furniture is not.
Just think about it.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #36
Just Do SOMETHING
The congregation may have feared “the E word,” (evangelism) for a long time. At last, a shift occurs. They are now ready (i. e. desperate enough) to consider a plan for outreach, to introduce themselves to a wider swath of their community. The question is: what to do?
Radio ads? How about a billboard or two? Newspapers! Fliers! Doorbell ringing, anyone? Sign on the city bus?
Soon, the planning group is reduced to bickering, playing one idea against the next. No matter what gets suggested, there is someone to point out its flaws. It’s too expensive. It reaches too few people. It reaches the wrong people. We tried it twenty years ago, and it didn’t reach ANY people.
What it amounts to is that the idea, whichever it might be, is no silver bullet. It fails to guarantee that, in just a few short months, the church’s pews will be filled with happy, highly committed and involved, incredibly nice, well-heeled and generous, new members.
In other words, “the perfect becomes the enemy of the good.”
What Christians must learn is that evangelism is not about packing the pews so much as it is about expressing God’s Good News, in ways varied enough to speak to various people. No one way will communicate clearly to everyone.
In the end, it may not matter so much which thing we do as an evangelical innovation. What will matter is that we do SOMETHING. Then, after that, something else, and so on, as we respond to the folks God sends us via each of those efforts.
The congregation may have feared “the E word,” (evangelism) for a long time. At last, a shift occurs. They are now ready (i. e. desperate enough) to consider a plan for outreach, to introduce themselves to a wider swath of their community. The question is: what to do?
Radio ads? How about a billboard or two? Newspapers! Fliers! Doorbell ringing, anyone? Sign on the city bus?
Soon, the planning group is reduced to bickering, playing one idea against the next. No matter what gets suggested, there is someone to point out its flaws. It’s too expensive. It reaches too few people. It reaches the wrong people. We tried it twenty years ago, and it didn’t reach ANY people.
What it amounts to is that the idea, whichever it might be, is no silver bullet. It fails to guarantee that, in just a few short months, the church’s pews will be filled with happy, highly committed and involved, incredibly nice, well-heeled and generous, new members.
In other words, “the perfect becomes the enemy of the good.”
What Christians must learn is that evangelism is not about packing the pews so much as it is about expressing God’s Good News, in ways varied enough to speak to various people. No one way will communicate clearly to everyone.
In the end, it may not matter so much which thing we do as an evangelical innovation. What will matter is that we do SOMETHING. Then, after that, something else, and so on, as we respond to the folks God sends us via each of those efforts.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #35
A Wailing Wall
The character May in Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees has a “wailing wall.” She built it herself in the back yard out of stacked stones. She needs the wall because she is afflicted with a peculiar sensitivity to tragic events in other people’s lives. When she is overcome with emotion, she goes to her wall, and she writes her thoughts and her lamentations on scraps of paper, which she stuffs into the spaces between the rocks.
May’s wall is based on the Western Wall, in Jerusalem, all that remains of the Second Temple, where Jews and others similarly inscribe their prayers onto paper and insert them into the interstices of the Temple’s foundation stones. (I should go on record in stating that the Western Wall should not be called “The Wailing Wall,” because that label is a derogatory and ill-informed reference to the Jewish custom of chanting prayers while bobbing and swaying the body, in order to “pray with one’s whole being.” The Wall is used for any kind of prayer.)
But I think there is a lot of May in all of us. Sometimes, we need to wail. We are affected by the tragic events of our world, whether they impact us directly or not. We need to express our hopes, fears, horror, and sadness, as well as our joys, to compassionate divine ears. It can be helpful to send God a note, too, as a sign of our passing presence. Not many of us can travel to Jerusalem to do it, but a holy place closer to us would be helpful.
Maybe our churches need to provide such places. They could be outdoors, on grounds or in gardens, near columbaria, perhaps. They could also be sheltered, inside covered entrances, but accessible to the public. They should be blessed and set aside for the purpose. And they need to be known to the community as places where the prayers of ordinary children of God can be expressed and recorded. Perhaps the scraps of paper could be collected periodically and offered to God, with remembrances of those who wrote them, their pain and their need.
It isn’t always easy to go straight to an “inward and spiritual grace.” We Episcopalians know, better than most, how helpful an “outward and visible sign” can be in leading us there.
The character May in Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees has a “wailing wall.” She built it herself in the back yard out of stacked stones. She needs the wall because she is afflicted with a peculiar sensitivity to tragic events in other people’s lives. When she is overcome with emotion, she goes to her wall, and she writes her thoughts and her lamentations on scraps of paper, which she stuffs into the spaces between the rocks.
May’s wall is based on the Western Wall, in Jerusalem, all that remains of the Second Temple, where Jews and others similarly inscribe their prayers onto paper and insert them into the interstices of the Temple’s foundation stones. (I should go on record in stating that the Western Wall should not be called “The Wailing Wall,” because that label is a derogatory and ill-informed reference to the Jewish custom of chanting prayers while bobbing and swaying the body, in order to “pray with one’s whole being.” The Wall is used for any kind of prayer.)
But I think there is a lot of May in all of us. Sometimes, we need to wail. We are affected by the tragic events of our world, whether they impact us directly or not. We need to express our hopes, fears, horror, and sadness, as well as our joys, to compassionate divine ears. It can be helpful to send God a note, too, as a sign of our passing presence. Not many of us can travel to Jerusalem to do it, but a holy place closer to us would be helpful.
Maybe our churches need to provide such places. They could be outdoors, on grounds or in gardens, near columbaria, perhaps. They could also be sheltered, inside covered entrances, but accessible to the public. They should be blessed and set aside for the purpose. And they need to be known to the community as places where the prayers of ordinary children of God can be expressed and recorded. Perhaps the scraps of paper could be collected periodically and offered to God, with remembrances of those who wrote them, their pain and their need.
It isn’t always easy to go straight to an “inward and spiritual grace.” We Episcopalians know, better than most, how helpful an “outward and visible sign” can be in leading us there.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Volley #34
Buzz, Continued: Negative Buzz
Some say there is no such thing as bad publicity: people remember the name, but they don’t remember what it was they heard about it. Maybe this principle explains (partially) the Paris Hilton phenomenon, which is inexplicable for any other reason. I don’t think it applies to church buzz, though.
Previously, in Volley Number 26, I suggested that getting a community talking about our congregation, about what is going on there, is a worthy goal, and it is. Many of our congregations have another, flip-side, issue to deal with: negative buzz. It may take the form of comment on the spotty, inaccurate, overwhelmingly negative news reporting we get, especially at the national level. Locally, some of our congregations have bad reputations among some in their area because of sins of their past, even distant past. Small-town memories can last for generations, and the congregation that was too high-falootin’ for Great-Grandma will have to get along without her descendants!
What troubles most, however, is the negative buzz that is self-inflicted. “A” gets feelings hurt at church (or elsewhere) with “B,” and is heard recounting it loudly with “C” and “D” over the meat cooler in the local supermarket. Reverse evangelism! How attractive does that congregation sound? Is Jesus’ message of love and forgiveness foremost there? To hear some people talk-- about their clergy, choir, lay leaders, worship, the congregation’s self-appointed lay pope, you name it-- there is nothing good or holy about the congregation they belong to. So why would anyone from outside want to be part of that? Worst of all is when the new or potential member has to witness an entire church-family altercation, in all its knock-down, drag-out, high-decibel, paint-peeling glory, right on the church property.
We all want our children and grandchildren to follow our example of active church involvement. How likely is that to happen if most of what they hear about the church and its leadership from our lips is carping and criticizing?
Much of our complaining is recreational in nature, and most of it comes from our own sin of self-focus. Something is not going the way we want it to go (starting with the aging and weakening of our own bodies), and we want the world to know, and sympathize. Yet criticism rarely produces a positive effect, while reliably producing several negative ones. We would do well to try to restrict our complaining to the ears of God, and the person we’re piqued at, in that order. In fact, if we begin with the former, we might find that we no longer need to trouble the latter.
P. S.—Yes, I know this is a carping and complaining volley. However, I feel much better now. We’ll be back on more positive turf next week!
Some say there is no such thing as bad publicity: people remember the name, but they don’t remember what it was they heard about it. Maybe this principle explains (partially) the Paris Hilton phenomenon, which is inexplicable for any other reason. I don’t think it applies to church buzz, though.
Previously, in Volley Number 26, I suggested that getting a community talking about our congregation, about what is going on there, is a worthy goal, and it is. Many of our congregations have another, flip-side, issue to deal with: negative buzz. It may take the form of comment on the spotty, inaccurate, overwhelmingly negative news reporting we get, especially at the national level. Locally, some of our congregations have bad reputations among some in their area because of sins of their past, even distant past. Small-town memories can last for generations, and the congregation that was too high-falootin’ for Great-Grandma will have to get along without her descendants!
What troubles most, however, is the negative buzz that is self-inflicted. “A” gets feelings hurt at church (or elsewhere) with “B,” and is heard recounting it loudly with “C” and “D” over the meat cooler in the local supermarket. Reverse evangelism! How attractive does that congregation sound? Is Jesus’ message of love and forgiveness foremost there? To hear some people talk-- about their clergy, choir, lay leaders, worship, the congregation’s self-appointed lay pope, you name it-- there is nothing good or holy about the congregation they belong to. So why would anyone from outside want to be part of that? Worst of all is when the new or potential member has to witness an entire church-family altercation, in all its knock-down, drag-out, high-decibel, paint-peeling glory, right on the church property.
We all want our children and grandchildren to follow our example of active church involvement. How likely is that to happen if most of what they hear about the church and its leadership from our lips is carping and criticizing?
Much of our complaining is recreational in nature, and most of it comes from our own sin of self-focus. Something is not going the way we want it to go (starting with the aging and weakening of our own bodies), and we want the world to know, and sympathize. Yet criticism rarely produces a positive effect, while reliably producing several negative ones. We would do well to try to restrict our complaining to the ears of God, and the person we’re piqued at, in that order. In fact, if we begin with the former, we might find that we no longer need to trouble the latter.
P. S.—Yes, I know this is a carping and complaining volley. However, I feel much better now. We’ll be back on more positive turf next week!
Volley #33
How Do People Know
Part Duh
How do I know if I am welcome in a congregation, if I’m:
• divorced
• or a single parent
• or just out of prison
• or homeless
• or on welfare
• or gay
• or non-white
• or Hispanic
• or poor
• or sick
• or handicapped—blind, deaf, limited in mobility, mentally or developmentally challenged?
The fear of just showing up can be very strong, and sadly, these persons may be the very ones most in need of experiencing the healing and renewing love of Jesus through the life of one of his faith communities. We also know very well what they know—that they are not really welcome in all Christian churches, including all Episcopal ones. We would do well to ask ourselves regularly, and in various ways, how we might better convey the message of welcome and acceptance to those who need to hear it. In the meantime, here are a few start-up questions.
• Is it clear, in all mentions of Communion, that all baptized persons who wish to receive are welcome?
• Is it stated openly in all communications that this congregation welcomes seekers of all kinds, without pre-conditions?
• If the congregation would be hospitable to gay and lesbian Christians, do they ever have the courage to say so? Even a little rainbow logo or flag or banner would speak volumes.
• If anyone is Hispanic, Black, Asian, or an immigrant, how would they know this congregation would receive them gracefully?
• Is the facility handicapped accessible? Could it be? Do communications say so?
• How about young adults? Single people?
• Do the website, and all publications, contain photos of the widest possible diversity of people by age and ethnicity? Are some people casually dressed? Do they look like they’re having fun?
• Are there people in worship wearing jeans or other casual attire? Even some greeters and parking lot attendants?
Maybe all kinds of people OUGHT to know they are welcome in an Episcopal church. But for some very good reasons, they don’t.
And the next step may be the bigger challenge—making all these things true of the congregation. That requires conversion of hearts, and may take time. But isn’t conversion of hearts our specialty?
Part Duh
How do I know if I am welcome in a congregation, if I’m:
• divorced
• or a single parent
• or just out of prison
• or homeless
• or on welfare
• or gay
• or non-white
• or Hispanic
• or poor
• or sick
• or handicapped—blind, deaf, limited in mobility, mentally or developmentally challenged?
The fear of just showing up can be very strong, and sadly, these persons may be the very ones most in need of experiencing the healing and renewing love of Jesus through the life of one of his faith communities. We also know very well what they know—that they are not really welcome in all Christian churches, including all Episcopal ones. We would do well to ask ourselves regularly, and in various ways, how we might better convey the message of welcome and acceptance to those who need to hear it. In the meantime, here are a few start-up questions.
• Is it clear, in all mentions of Communion, that all baptized persons who wish to receive are welcome?
• Is it stated openly in all communications that this congregation welcomes seekers of all kinds, without pre-conditions?
• If the congregation would be hospitable to gay and lesbian Christians, do they ever have the courage to say so? Even a little rainbow logo or flag or banner would speak volumes.
• If anyone is Hispanic, Black, Asian, or an immigrant, how would they know this congregation would receive them gracefully?
• Is the facility handicapped accessible? Could it be? Do communications say so?
• How about young adults? Single people?
• Do the website, and all publications, contain photos of the widest possible diversity of people by age and ethnicity? Are some people casually dressed? Do they look like they’re having fun?
• Are there people in worship wearing jeans or other casual attire? Even some greeters and parking lot attendants?
Maybe all kinds of people OUGHT to know they are welcome in an Episcopal church. But for some very good reasons, they don’t.
And the next step may be the bigger challenge—making all these things true of the congregation. That requires conversion of hearts, and may take time. But isn’t conversion of hearts our specialty?
Monday, December 1, 2008
advent conspiracy
Via Bishop Martin Townsend, a thoughtful seasonal u-tube posting.
http://www.adventconspiracy.org/
http://www.adventconspiracy.org/
Friday, November 28, 2008
for Koinonea
“The Peace of the Lord Be with You”
Remember those excruciating days, just following the adoption of the present Book of Common Prayer, so many years ago now, when the Exchange of the Peace was a solitary affair? Episcopalians, not having adapted yet to the idea that they might even speak to just anyone who showed up in their church, were certainly not about to touch them—even in a handshake! Sadly, there are some congregations one could point to, even in our own diocese, where that attitude remains largely in force. In many, however, it has been replaced by an opposite practice, which nevertheless indicates that we still don’t understand the purpose of the Exchange of the Peace in our liturgy any more than we used to. I am referring to those places where the Peace sets off a melee of hugging and kissing, catching up on news, making plans for later, and general social interchange among those in the congregation who are friends. The greeting offered is, as often as not, “Good morning!” or “How are you?” and one finds, upon inquiry, that the congregation is rather pleased with itself over how friendly and welcoming they have become. But they are no closer to passing “Peace 101” than their frosty neighbors.
The Exchange of the Peace occurs at a key moment in the Eucharistic liturgy, that miraculous couple of seconds when we have just confessed to God our sins and omissions and have received God’s amazing and liberating forgiveness. In that moment of grace, we are uniquely able to wish upon others, whoever might be near us, known or unknown, that same divine peace we have received. And it is God’s peace we exchange, not ours: it is important to acknowledge that fact by mentioning him in our greeting. The ability to do this is crucial to our participation in the Great Thanksgiving which follows (and, on another, but related subject, the connection between these two elements illustrates why creating a chasm between them by inserting “announcements” is an unfortunate intrusion.) We’ve been taught that our liturgy consists of two parts, Word and Sacrament. But we need reminding that those two parts make one event, and the flow from one to the other should not be disrupted. Likewise, the Passing of the Peace should not be allowed to become such a hoopla that the true climax of the celebration, the sharing of Christ’s Body and Blood, becomes diminished. Presiders are right when, however hesitantly, they intervene to call the congregation back to order for continuation of the liturgy we’ve all come for.
To those congregations who believe a boisterous Peace shows how friendly they are: no it doesn’t. It accentuates to the guests just how out of it all they are, and to the introverts just how socially deficient the others consider them to be.
The mature congregation is one in which the Peace is kindly and freely exchanged with everyone adjacent to each worshiper, with a smile, a handshake, or even a light embrace, as locally appropriate. When few are present (say, under 20), it is fine for all to greet everyone else, with no omissions. It is also important for the nearest ones to move around to greet those who have seated themselves somewhat apart from the pack, and to make sure they include those near them that they don’t know (but not for everyone in a larger group to congregate around the one new family like a pack of Chihuahas on a pork chop!)
As for setting off a general hub-bub of social interaction, we have another set of trigger words for that. They come at the end of the liturgy, after the blessing and concluding hymn, and the dismissal: the people say, “Thanks be to God!”
Remember those excruciating days, just following the adoption of the present Book of Common Prayer, so many years ago now, when the Exchange of the Peace was a solitary affair? Episcopalians, not having adapted yet to the idea that they might even speak to just anyone who showed up in their church, were certainly not about to touch them—even in a handshake! Sadly, there are some congregations one could point to, even in our own diocese, where that attitude remains largely in force. In many, however, it has been replaced by an opposite practice, which nevertheless indicates that we still don’t understand the purpose of the Exchange of the Peace in our liturgy any more than we used to. I am referring to those places where the Peace sets off a melee of hugging and kissing, catching up on news, making plans for later, and general social interchange among those in the congregation who are friends. The greeting offered is, as often as not, “Good morning!” or “How are you?” and one finds, upon inquiry, that the congregation is rather pleased with itself over how friendly and welcoming they have become. But they are no closer to passing “Peace 101” than their frosty neighbors.
The Exchange of the Peace occurs at a key moment in the Eucharistic liturgy, that miraculous couple of seconds when we have just confessed to God our sins and omissions and have received God’s amazing and liberating forgiveness. In that moment of grace, we are uniquely able to wish upon others, whoever might be near us, known or unknown, that same divine peace we have received. And it is God’s peace we exchange, not ours: it is important to acknowledge that fact by mentioning him in our greeting. The ability to do this is crucial to our participation in the Great Thanksgiving which follows (and, on another, but related subject, the connection between these two elements illustrates why creating a chasm between them by inserting “announcements” is an unfortunate intrusion.) We’ve been taught that our liturgy consists of two parts, Word and Sacrament. But we need reminding that those two parts make one event, and the flow from one to the other should not be disrupted. Likewise, the Passing of the Peace should not be allowed to become such a hoopla that the true climax of the celebration, the sharing of Christ’s Body and Blood, becomes diminished. Presiders are right when, however hesitantly, they intervene to call the congregation back to order for continuation of the liturgy we’ve all come for.
To those congregations who believe a boisterous Peace shows how friendly they are: no it doesn’t. It accentuates to the guests just how out of it all they are, and to the introverts just how socially deficient the others consider them to be.
The mature congregation is one in which the Peace is kindly and freely exchanged with everyone adjacent to each worshiper, with a smile, a handshake, or even a light embrace, as locally appropriate. When few are present (say, under 20), it is fine for all to greet everyone else, with no omissions. It is also important for the nearest ones to move around to greet those who have seated themselves somewhat apart from the pack, and to make sure they include those near them that they don’t know (but not for everyone in a larger group to congregate around the one new family like a pack of Chihuahas on a pork chop!)
As for setting off a general hub-bub of social interaction, we have another set of trigger words for that. They come at the end of the liturgy, after the blessing and concluding hymn, and the dismissal: the people say, “Thanks be to God!”
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Volley from the Canon, #32
A Volley from the Canon, Number 32
Special Liturgies
Most of us Episcopalians believe that liturgy is something we do particularly well, and liturgical worship is important to us. Doing liturgy well takes planning and attention, even when it is of the weekly, ordinary-Sunday variety. “Special” liturgies, the kind that come just occasionally, and may even be unique, require just as much work and careful focus on detail. Yet they can be among the most powerful evangelistic tools we have in our kit.
More than once, I’ve had groomsmen in wedding parties comment to me, “I’ve been in a bunch of weddings lately, but this is the most spiritual one, I’ve ever been to.” And we’ve all heard non-members say, after a burial Eucharist, “Now that is the way a funeral ought to be!” (My favorite was the pastor of a neighboring congregation of another denomination, who asked, “When I die, will you bury me?”)
“Hey, I’m not making this up, I just read it!” I protest. But the point is: our Book of Common Prayer is a priceless resource for heart-moving, life-altering, Good News evangelism, culminating in an “altar call” in which everyone willing comes forward to receive Jesus.
In this coming season, we have several wonderful opportunities to dazzle shepherds, inn-keepers, and wise persons of all varieties with inspiring, celebratory re-tellings of the Greatest Story, all in the context of Holy Eucharist. Because there are extra worship opportunities, special events, and the expectation of guests and travelers, we also have a built-in excuse to do extra advertizing and publicity. Don’t let’s blow it!
• Are your Christmas events and worship opportunities prominently displayed on your website, in your church ads, in newsletters, on signs out front, in special mailings, and on fliers to be posted and distributed? How about your phone answering message?
• Are the Christmas liturgies meticulously planned and choreographed? Are they set at times when people actually will attend rather than fixed by some out-moded tradition?
• Has the Christmas worship team been recruited, trained, and rehearsed? Are there greeters? How about a little eggnog afterward?
There is no guarantee that a tourist bus will pull up out front for our Christ-masses. But there IS a guarantee that we will entertain, perhaps unawares, not only angels, but the Incarnate Christ himself—along with some person or persons he will bring with him who desperately need to experience a magnificent celebration, whether large or small. May they always say, of all of our Christmas Eucharists, “Now that is the way Christmas ought to be!”
Volleys from the Canon will go on temporary holiday hiatus until The Feast of the Circumcision.
A blessed celebration of the Incarnation to all!
Special Liturgies
Most of us Episcopalians believe that liturgy is something we do particularly well, and liturgical worship is important to us. Doing liturgy well takes planning and attention, even when it is of the weekly, ordinary-Sunday variety. “Special” liturgies, the kind that come just occasionally, and may even be unique, require just as much work and careful focus on detail. Yet they can be among the most powerful evangelistic tools we have in our kit.
More than once, I’ve had groomsmen in wedding parties comment to me, “I’ve been in a bunch of weddings lately, but this is the most spiritual one, I’ve ever been to.” And we’ve all heard non-members say, after a burial Eucharist, “Now that is the way a funeral ought to be!” (My favorite was the pastor of a neighboring congregation of another denomination, who asked, “When I die, will you bury me?”)
“Hey, I’m not making this up, I just read it!” I protest. But the point is: our Book of Common Prayer is a priceless resource for heart-moving, life-altering, Good News evangelism, culminating in an “altar call” in which everyone willing comes forward to receive Jesus.
In this coming season, we have several wonderful opportunities to dazzle shepherds, inn-keepers, and wise persons of all varieties with inspiring, celebratory re-tellings of the Greatest Story, all in the context of Holy Eucharist. Because there are extra worship opportunities, special events, and the expectation of guests and travelers, we also have a built-in excuse to do extra advertizing and publicity. Don’t let’s blow it!
• Are your Christmas events and worship opportunities prominently displayed on your website, in your church ads, in newsletters, on signs out front, in special mailings, and on fliers to be posted and distributed? How about your phone answering message?
• Are the Christmas liturgies meticulously planned and choreographed? Are they set at times when people actually will attend rather than fixed by some out-moded tradition?
• Has the Christmas worship team been recruited, trained, and rehearsed? Are there greeters? How about a little eggnog afterward?
There is no guarantee that a tourist bus will pull up out front for our Christ-masses. But there IS a guarantee that we will entertain, perhaps unawares, not only angels, but the Incarnate Christ himself—along with some person or persons he will bring with him who desperately need to experience a magnificent celebration, whether large or small. May they always say, of all of our Christmas Eucharists, “Now that is the way Christmas ought to be!”
Volleys from the Canon will go on temporary holiday hiatus until The Feast of the Circumcision.
A blessed celebration of the Incarnation to all!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Quote du jour
Reinhold Niebuhr, received from the Rev. Bob Thomas:
"Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime;
therefore, we must be save by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
therefore, we must be saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however, virtuous, can be accomplished alone;
therefore, we must be saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our standpoint.
Therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."
"Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime;
therefore, we must be save by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
therefore, we must be saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however, virtuous, can be accomplished alone;
therefore, we must be saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our standpoint.
Therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."
Friday, November 21, 2008
A Volley from the Canon, Number 31
31
Clocked IN
When we make the all-important decision to request that our names be placed on the rolls of a congregation, we face a major shift in our responsibilities and standing in that community. It would be helpful if someone prepared us for the enormity of what we are doing when we ask to be members!
Before, we were checking the church out to see what it had to offer us and our families. We were the newcomers, and we could be justified in thinking it was “all about us.”
But when we identify ourselves as members of the congregation, we become ministers of it. Now, we come to help feed as well as to be fed. We can no longer be consumers of religious life, but we must be suppliers as well.
When we arrive on Sunday morning, and at all church functions, we are “clocked in.”
That couple we don’t know standing hesitantly in the Narthex, or at the edge of the activity at coffee hour—whose job is it to greet them, introduce them around, begin to discover what their needs and interests are? It’s ours.
Clocked IN
When we make the all-important decision to request that our names be placed on the rolls of a congregation, we face a major shift in our responsibilities and standing in that community. It would be helpful if someone prepared us for the enormity of what we are doing when we ask to be members!
Before, we were checking the church out to see what it had to offer us and our families. We were the newcomers, and we could be justified in thinking it was “all about us.”
But when we identify ourselves as members of the congregation, we become ministers of it. Now, we come to help feed as well as to be fed. We can no longer be consumers of religious life, but we must be suppliers as well.
When we arrive on Sunday morning, and at all church functions, we are “clocked in.”
That couple we don’t know standing hesitantly in the Narthex, or at the edge of the activity at coffee hour—whose job is it to greet them, introduce them around, begin to discover what their needs and interests are? It’s ours.
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