Emergent Church of the Village

The buzz word of the 21^st century church seems to be “emergent church,” meaning the new idea of envisioning church as a personal experience and gathering void of institutional trappings and hierarchies. Church is the gathering of people without labels and demarcations, but instead is a gathering of people who envision church with “both/and” eyes. Differences are celebrated and accepted.

Now, admittedly, this description sounds like anything but what I encounter in my ministry as a rural ministry developer. I am very cognizant that I work with and support people within contexts so overladden with traditions and mysterious expectations that I walk the proverbial landmine field as I make the ministry developer journey. Memories and traditions are held tight and dear. 

Ask any “member” and he or she can tell you how the psalms are always read and the tunes of the various service music, without deviation—or more accurately, how they are NOT, when you inadvertently cross the lines of traditions and expectations. The tradition may be so engrained in fact, that many members may even not realize that there are dozens of alternative service music tunes or even half a dozen ways a church might read its lectionary psalms. Traditions and memories provide the structures for gathering as if they were the official rubrics and canons of the church.

Sounds like anything but the “emergent” church of which the media and Christian church are discussing, doesn’t it? But is it really? Yes, the rural family church is filled with traditions and institutional trappings. It offers a needed certainty on which people can depend in this ever-changing world. The church serves as the “safe place” from the social, financial and political upset that seems to surround our fragile world. Go to church; find predictability. Go to church; find blessed assurance. Go to church; find respite in this world of change.

But the commonalities with the “emergent” church also are evident: simplicity; authenticity; community.

We are simple folk who appreciate simple pleasures. Family gatherings and church gatherings are at the core of our social and personal lives. Material wants and needs are low on our lists of priorities behind family and community well being. We function as part of the church community, not as individuals with individual wants and needs.

We also accept the person, just as he or she is, with all of his or her idiosyncrasies. In fact, if we thought about it more, that is why we may even love him or her so much: because of whom he or she is. Authentic acceptance and acceptance of authenticity are givens.

And there is no doubt about community. People may use the saying, “It takes a village” to indicate the need for a supportive community, but it also is a truth in its reverse. People in the village church know that they can rely on the village to support, nurture and companion them. The village is a given element in the world in which they live and worship. The village and the church are so intertwined, hey can be difficult, if not impossible, to separate.

Similarly, mission, outreach and church are overlapping circles of activity and energy that are indistinguishable from the others. The lines are blurred and they have little or no relevance. You do what you do, because that is who you are. You do what you do, because you care. You do what you do, because we are all members of the same community of Christ.

So is this emergent church or not? Time will tell, but if you notice, there is a cycle to religious and cultural history. Call it nostalgia if you want, but we just may be returning to the days of community and simplicity of 40 and 50 years ago. And the village church that never changed may be simply ahead of the curve.

 
Theresa

Discernment

As a ministry developer, my vocabulary often centers around the words “call” and “discern” or variations on either term. I prod the people in the pews on Sundays and the people whom I counsel throughout the week to consider God’s call on them and their lives. I companion them, with pokes and prods, to discern what those calls might be. I suggest—with puzzled looks from my strongly extroverted companions—that they listen with full hearts and minds. Their quizzical expressions become even more so as I speak of the differences between listening and hearing, and as I speak of listening for the nonverbal clues to what is “really” being said.

Perhaps it is my “sensory” nature, but collecting information is a parallel activity to all that I do. Perhaps it also is natural that discernment is a constant activity for me as well. Recently, at least, it seems to be something that I am doing more proactively as well. Like the biblical prophets, I ask God repeatedly for “whats” and “hows” and sometimes even some “whys.”  The “whys” particularly coming when I find God is stretching me or showing a sense of humor.

But in the current midst of the flurry of activity, I sense a strong need for some peace—a brief respite for me to collect my thoughts and to shield me from the distractions of service. In essence, I am seeking a respite to allow time for discernment.

Although not well timed—they never are I realize—I got such an opportunity over the weekend. A spiritual retreat of silence, spiritual direction and scripture for three hours in a neighboring state. Three hours that I desperately needed. Three hours that I could devote to listening and being silent so I might hear God’s voice and feel God’s touch on my heart and soul. It was during that brief retreat that I wrote the following haiku, which I share now as I realize it speaks to my own need for continued discernment.

And, yes, God, I am listening. I await your direction.

Beauty surrounds me

In the leaves and in the mountains

The wonderous colors.

But the real beauty

Is in the faces of friends

Their smiles, tears and eyes.

Eyes that twinkle bright

Aware of the love of God

In all that I see.

A hand that is held

An arm embracing another

Empathetic love.

Being a pastor

Allows beauty to enter the soul.

Oh what a blessing!

I am so thankful

God gifted me this present

Of serving others.

I in creation

All part of the Father’s world

Let me see the joy.

Immerse me, oh God

In the beauty of service

Planting grace and love.

Allow me to serve

How you so intend me to

And to hear your voice.

Do I hear clearly?

Do I discern your great call?

Or hear my own will?

Weed out distractions

So I might hear you clearly

And bravely obey.

Theresa

Bread of Life in the Midst of Vulnerability and Self-Doubts

We now are in the midst of a series of lectionary readings that dwell on the “bread of life” imagery found in the Gospel of John. Overlapping scripture passages are found in the selected readings, yet we also move forward from physical hunger in the story of the feeding of the 5,000 to spiritual feeding as in the “bread of life” imagery.

All this in the midst of being a ministry developer working with multiple churches and thus dealing with multiple deaths, losses, and changes as the needs cross church and community boundaries. As I call one parishioner to offer a visit and the sharing of the Holy meal, I learn of still another tragedy impacting an additional parishioner. I turn on the television for my weekly one-hour fix with a soon-to-end television series, only to experience another death. The fact that the television program is not reality makes no difference; I still feel the heart pangs of loss.

I live and work and serve within the midst of heartbreak and challenges. I am to be the strong calming influence for those around me. I listen to another tearful story. I pray for wholeness of body and spirit. I seek the strength to listen, be, and support yet another person in need—a person who for that moment needs undivided focus on his or her needs, not the needs of others across the other church communities that I serve.

I encourage parishioners to take care of self; yet, I admit that I struggle to practice what I preach. How do I explain to one church community my need for self care when the community sees only a thin slice of who I am and what I do. They see me only when I am serving them. Are they jealous when I am seen serving others or, even carving out time for myself? What runs through their minds when I have a conflict between my multiple charges and have to “choose” one over the other, even if I made the other commitment first?

All of these are challenges to be sure. I raise them here as part of the sharing of my “diary,” with great risk I know. I am just as vulnerable as each of the persons and communities that I serve. I cry inside when they are crying. I lose sleep wondering how to be a better shepherd on our joint pilgrimage journey; I wonder if I am doing it okay. I am sure that the answers to that last question are as varied as there are people answering.

So I guess it all comes down to this: What does Jesus want? And where that answer is unclear, am I listening for the guidance that I need to hear? I pray that “yes, I am.” I cannot be all things to all people, but I certainly can look to God and let God provide the tools to do that which is life giving and offer the companioning as we seek the “bread of life” that Jesus promises. I must let go; I must let God. Perhaps revealing my vulnerability is not such a bad thing after all.

Theresa

Resourceful, Resilient and Patient

The national and regional media assured that all were aware of the major electrical power outage that affected the Mid-Atlantic and other regions last week, just in time for the July 4 holiday and the heavy vacation season. Western Maryland was one of the affected regions, with the outages ranging from minutes to several days. Except for our concern for those dependent on electric power for oxygen or other medical needs, however, the more pressing concern was the unusually hot weather that simultaneously blanketed the region. We wanted to make sure that those with or without power had the resources that they needed to stay cool and healthy during this dangerously long and hot heat wave.

Which brings me to the confirmations I have received over the past week or so as a result of this experience. We rural residents in Western Maryland and the adjoining states continue to be resourceful, resilient and patient. As I called friends and parishioners offering them a shower or other relief from the heat and power outage, I repeatedly received responses assuring me that they were “fine.” They had moved their freezer stashes to the freezers of relatives or friends. They had already gone to a friend’s house for a much-needed shower. They had managed to find the old cook stove that did a nifty job at heating up the limited food that they were able to salvage from the now lukewarm refrigerators. All with “thank yous” and minimal (if any) complaints. I received no takers from my family members, friends or colleagues. Friends help friends. Family help family. That is what life in these parts is all about.

But I had two more reminders of this resilient and patient nature. One was an article in the July 6 issue of The Globe and Mail by Adrian Morrow, “Storm-ravaged West Virginia makes the case for a smart grid.”  Morrow’s article reflected his conversations with residents of my neighboring state, West Virginia. As he noted, the common attitude was that “[m]ost people, it seems, are prepared to make the best of the situation.” Not news to me, but I wonder if this would be true of others outside the Appalachian region, where we are accustomed to waiting and know that impatience serves no real purpose. The wait will be just as long, so we might as well make the best of things.

The other came last Sunday, as my church lost power when a pole-based breaker affecting only the church tripped, causing us to be without power for about 24 hours, including the time scheduled for Sunday services. So, what did we do?

Well, first we prepared to worship in darkness, finding flashlights and looking over the music to determine if any changes might be needed for our unaccompanied singing. But on learning that the rectory was spared the loss, everyone grabbed prayer books and hymnals. Some also carted over altar-ware or chairs. We set up for church in a matter of minutes. Worship occurred in a tiny dining room, followed by coffee hour in the even smaller kitchen. Within minutes, we set up; in approximately the same period, we had it all back again in order.

What resilience! What a volunteer spirit! And nary a complaint out of any one. In fact, as I started worship, thanking everyone for being so flexible, the voice of a retired priest’s daughter chimed in with an upbeat message that let me know no thanks were needed. And you know, she is exactly right! We can do church and be church most anywhere, and without a second thought about the whys or whats. The wonders of rural ministry is one of the best kept secrets I know; if only others knew what they were missing.

Theresa

Finding Thanksgivings in Mobility Issues

As is typical of many rural churches, the demographics of the smallest churches in Western Maryland tend to be on the older end of the range for the regional population. Many of our active parishioners are in their 70s; some are even in their 80s and 90s. Many struggle to get to church, making painstaking steps with canes and walkers to their pews and to the various social functions within the churches. The list of shut-ins and nursing home residents is fairly long considering the size of the churches, so I spend much of my time visiting with still more parishioners in the hospital and in their homes, which may be assisted living and nursing home facilities. And through the pain and struggles that many endure, they always have a bright smile and thank you for the phone calls and visits that the parishioners and I have with them.

But it is the unexpected injuries and illnesses that I and my more mobile friends experience that help us more fully understand the daily lives of these ever-resilient, positive individuals whom I am graced to serve. I admit that I love my swift walks with friends and God to clear my head and allow me time to talk and listen. I enjoy my various dance classes in which I can “lose myself” and take my energy out in a full-body dance exercise routine.

I need those activities to decompress and spoil myself with something just for me. So it was a rather unpleasant surprise to find that my recent gardening efforts resulted in bug bites that developed into cellulitis. Cellulitis of my right calf to be more specific. After a mega shot and now taking the “horse pills” that I must take to wipe out the bacteria and infection, I am a bit restricted from my usual activities for the next 10 days. I hobble from a shot in one thigh and an infection in the other calf, reminding me of my three months of hobbling from an auto accident of 1984. But the reality is: the pain is minimal and it certainly tests my self-restraint from scratching the ever-itching places on my leg and now my wrist. Thus, I am blessed in so many ways.

I am blessed to learn how it is for my parishioners who wait for hours in the emergency room for treatment. I am blessed to better empathize with the parishioners for whom hobbling around with canes and walkers is a daily reality. I am blessed to learn how wonderful the people whom I serve are in caring for one another. I am blessed to discover how wonderful the medical professionals and staff in my local hospital truly are—pastoral and kind and immediately setting me at ease as I registered and waited. I am blessed to discover the mobility restrictions of my home that I might keep in mind as my husband and I consider how to better organize our house and any future changes. I am blessed to discover that God works in so many divine ways, allowing me to encounter the right person to encourage me to seek help rather than allow it to develop into something that might require more drastic treatment.

Oh my goodness. I am blessed in oh so many ways! And these blessings will inform me as I do my ministry of service and companionship as the vicar of two parishes and the missioner/ministry developer for eight. I pray that these lessons and these blessings will make me a better pastor, a better witness, a better listener, and a more compassionate soul. Not too much to pray for, right?

Theresa

These "Ordinary" Times

Each year we enter this period of “ordinary time” readings for the church year, with this long “green” period being devoted to readings that focus on the Christian life and ministry. This year being Year B, and with both of my churches use the Track 1 readings, we continue from last year the study of our biblical history and the not-so-early biblical fathers and mothers.

If we were using the “thematic” Track 2, which connects the Hebrew Bible and Gospel readings thematically, the people in the pews would receive a greater thematic continuity between the readings and particularly the collect of the day. However, it seems that each time we enter the long ordinary time after Pentecost, the people find the Track 1 historical texts something that they crave to hear and examine further.

Perhaps it is our Christian focus on the Gospels and Paul’s letters, but the ancient historical stories seem fresh and new. Each time that we delve deeper, I see something new. I add one more question to my repertoire for delving deeper once again, realizing that I may have missed the opportunity this week or this year to discuss a new insight, but we carry on with the same history next week. And we will repeat them again in three years, so there is a chance again to capture another hidden meaning. This is particularly nice since I alternate between churches and will not be preaching in front of the same people again for two more weeks.

That is the beauty of the Track 1 readings for me. I get a second or third chance to delve and explore with the parish these historical documents once again, if not this week, next week or the one after, as we continue the story. The focus is not on the Gospel text but instead on our deep roots, our Jewish roots, and how the various facts and historical events just keep on building.

These may be “ordinary” times in the sense that this is not a special church season and the readings carry a history or theme of discipleship and ministry, but I realize these are truly “extraordinary” not “ordinary” times. It is the extraordinary time to study our histories, make them real to us today, and do so in community.

Just today a colleague mentioned how much we live and breathe our faith in and through community. We do not live our Christian faith today without recognizing that it is built on many years of Jewish life that made each of us and our belief systems what they are today. And we are building a history for those who follow us. And isn’t that what living our Christian faiths is all about? Making history and making new stories.

Theresa

Ministry Development and Social Justice

As noted in my earlier posting, I recently attended a four-day retreat at Sandscrest Conference and Retreat Center , Wheeling, WV, as part of my continuing education as a ministry developer. During our time together, we used Brian McLaren’s book, Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in 12 Simple Words to guide the theme for our community worship times. I found it helpful as we journeyed through the word “seasons;” others expressed the same comment.

More critically, however, it was informative of who I am and of the character of ministry developers. My conclusion was that ministry developers have a common passion for social justice issues. We are compassionate persons who work with the marginalized and misunderstood. We live in the trenches. We work in the trenches.

Traditional clergy and lay persons involved in church ministry do not understand our work and thus we are in many senses marginalized. We are misunderstood in that there is a view that working with small churches we are “less than,” and that we are promoted to larger churches if we are capable. We are marginalized in that small church work is just as hard, generally with much greater demands for the personal element, such as pastoral care.

Our people are names and personalities that we know well—they are not numbers. We have no staff to assist us and we are expected to juggle many tasks and demands with grace and excellence. I admit that I fail at both much of the time, but I certainly try. And thankfully the people whom I serve are very forgiving, gracious and caring.

So what was the “simple word” that was so informative? It was “no.” “No” was the word we spoke the loudest and with the greatest urgency in the midst of the silences. Not “no” as in “no” I cannot help you or “no” I don’t want to, but “no” as in “no, stop, this is unjust.”

“No” is the word for effecting justice and fairness, and advocating for the same in the world. Apparently social justice advocacy is a common gift and passion for each of us as ministry developers. We understand it and we do it well.

Theresa