Whitney Houston’s death triggered memories of the wedding I performed 34 years ago in which Whitney, then a pig-tailed twelve-year-old, sang with her mother. I was serving the Glen Ridge Congregational Church in New Jersey when I was contacted by a bride-to-be who wanted me to conduct her ceremony in our church. She was a beautiful woman, a well-known jazz disc jockey on an African-American radio station, who was marrying a musician (the marriage later turned abusive, but that is another story altogether). She was a member of New Hope Baptist Church in Newark, whose sanctuary was too small (and, it gradually came out, too humble) to host the celebrity wedding she had in mind. The choir director at New Hope was Cissy Houston, and the chance to meet and work with Cissy was likely a factor in my agreeing to perform the ceremony.
I met with the bride and groom several times, and we planned a service quite unlike anything this young white pastor had experienced. Cissy would sing, and her brother Nate would play the organ (this required quite a bit of negotiation with my music director, who was very protective of the fine organ). Several noted musicians would also perform. The guests would include the black musical aristocracy of the greater New York area.
Since Glen Ridge was a small, entirely white, affluent community that was pretty uptight on issues of race (during the 1967 riots in nearby Newark they blockaded all the streets leading into town, assuming the rioters would come to pillage), this seemed like a wonderful opportunity for the church to extend hospitality to the African-American community. Plus I would get to hang out with some very hip people.
Feeling out of my element, I called my friend and mentor Reuben Sheares, a national officer in the UCC and a respected black theologian, for a bit of coaching. “John,” he said, “the hardest thing for a white liberal like you to understand is that you got to take CPT (“colored people’s time”) seriously; that wedding is going to start when it wants to start.” Sure enough, the rehearsal began nearly an hour late. Nate, Cissy’s brother, ambled to the organ console. “Shee-it,” he said in wonder, “I ain’t never played nothing but no Hammond before.” I prayed my music director would never learn. He began tentatively, but soon was bringing out sounds I did not know that organ could make.
Cissy was scheduled to sing a solo, but she brought her little girl, Whitney, with her, and announced that they would be doing their first public duet. Whitney was shy, sweet, gangly and mildly buck-toothed. In all honesty, I was focused on her mother, one of the great back-up singers of all time. They sang wonderfully together.
When the hour arrived for the wedding to begin, there were no more than three of four guests wandering around the building. Most of them had some sort of request to make of me—aspirin, bobby pins, a phone. Reuben had prepared me for this: African-American pastors enjoyed more respect from their members than us white pastors, but they also had higher expectations and more demands placed upon them.
After a while Nate wandered in and began playing. More guests were drifting in, some even taking seats. About an hour after the wedding was to begin, with no word from the bride, a very large man holding a very small flute sought me out. He was to play a prelude, and wondered who would be announcing him. With that he began to list his credits: just played in a certain club, played on Stevie Wonder’s most recent album. Clearly I would be announcing him.
Some 45 minutes later the limo pulled up (the chauffeur was the only other white guy I had seen all afternoon) and the bride, looking radiantly beautiful, peppered me with questions. Had Joe (flute player) arrived yet? Yes, he was there. Who was going to announce him? That would be me.
Ninety minutes past the scheduled time for the ceremony, we were ready to begin. Nate had played everything he knew several times, so I motioned for him to halt. “Folks, we have a very special treat for you. Direct from his recent engagement at New York’s premier jazz club, Joe is going to play several numbers for us. His most recent recording…” I was into the zone.
Finally the bride and groom stood before me. I opened my mouth to begin the ceremony, but before I could get a word out Nate started rocking the organ again. The Spirit had informed Cissy that she and Whitney would perform their duet immediately, rather than when they were scheduled to. It was electrifying. When they sat down again it take me a full minute before I was able to speak the words “dearly beloved.”
The rest of that day is a blur in my memory. As noted earlier, things did not go well for the couple, and the bride later returned to me for pastoral care and counsel. I never again saw Cissy Houston, or her sweet young daughter, but I retained a bit of personal investment in Whitney, first as her career soared and then as her personal life crumbled. I believe that Cissy is still alive, and I cannot imagine the pain she has borne through these years, or the grief she now carries for her precious little girl. God bless you, Whitney; I pray that the pearly gates opened in a timely manner for you.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, October 28, 2011
Shopping for Pants at Kohl's
If my choice is between getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick or going shopping I will go shopping, but I would much prefer visiting the dentist. I shop only when there is no other choice, which became the case when I finally acknowledged that I have become shorter.
I had vaguely wondered why the cuffs of my pants were fraying so rapidly, and Susan finally noted that it might have something to do with the fact that they were dragging on the ground. The arthritic deterioration in my spine that has caused various unpleasant symptoms in recent years has now taken an inch or two of height from me. I needed an entire new pants wardrobe, so I steeled myself and headed for Kohl’s.
For those who do not know it, Kohl’s is a discount department store that sells decent-quality merchandise at reasonable prices and always has some sort of sale going. They regularly send us promotional material that requires us to peel off a sticker to learn the amount of our “special discount,” and on the most recent one we had won the Kohl’s lottery with the enviable 30% discount. Armed with my discount card I headed for Kohl’s on a Wednesday, which is Senior Discount Day, when everyone over the age of 60 gets an additional 15% off. My mission was to find pants that were already on sale and then take another 45% off the price. What could possibly go wrong?
I tried on a fair number of pants, most of which hung on my thin frame like burlap sacks. The fit categories appear to have shifted in the last few years. What they now call “natural fit” are pants that used to be called “relaxed fit,” and the trousers they now call “relaxed fit” should be called “bordering on obese fit.” I finally located a few pairs of “thin fit” pants in my new size, and, since I was going to get 45% off everything, also purchased a shirt and a few birthday gifts for our grandson.
Except when I got to the register I learned that my 30% discount card was not good until the next Monday (I failed to read the fine print), so I received only my senior discount. But I did get twenty “Kohl’s Dollars,” part of another promotion they were running. Since I still needed to replace my jeans, I would simply come back on Monday to get my 30% discount and spend my Kohl’s Dollars.
On Monday I found some jeans – in the “hip, urban young guy” department, which remarkably enough had a nice selection of thin fit Levis 511s (“second pair half price!”). When I took them to the register I received my 30% discount but learned that my Kohl’s Dollars were not good until Thursday (another failure to read the fine print). And to get my 30% discount I had to put the jeans on my Kohl’s account, which I did not have. I opened an account, purchased my jeans, and received – take a deep breath - another ten Kohl’s Dollars.
On Thursday I returned to Kohl’s with the thirty Kohl’s Dollars and my still-valid 30% discount card, determined not to let the Kohl’s Dollars expire, only to discover there was nothing in the entire store I wanted or needed. I picked out six pairs of nice socks, but since they were on sale I was still only halfway to my thirty Kohl’s Dollars. Which means that our grandson is going to have a very nice birthday.
I am done shopping for the foreseeable future. But the next time I need something from Kohl’s I plan to read all the fine print. Or take my accountant.
I had vaguely wondered why the cuffs of my pants were fraying so rapidly, and Susan finally noted that it might have something to do with the fact that they were dragging on the ground. The arthritic deterioration in my spine that has caused various unpleasant symptoms in recent years has now taken an inch or two of height from me. I needed an entire new pants wardrobe, so I steeled myself and headed for Kohl’s.
For those who do not know it, Kohl’s is a discount department store that sells decent-quality merchandise at reasonable prices and always has some sort of sale going. They regularly send us promotional material that requires us to peel off a sticker to learn the amount of our “special discount,” and on the most recent one we had won the Kohl’s lottery with the enviable 30% discount. Armed with my discount card I headed for Kohl’s on a Wednesday, which is Senior Discount Day, when everyone over the age of 60 gets an additional 15% off. My mission was to find pants that were already on sale and then take another 45% off the price. What could possibly go wrong?
I tried on a fair number of pants, most of which hung on my thin frame like burlap sacks. The fit categories appear to have shifted in the last few years. What they now call “natural fit” are pants that used to be called “relaxed fit,” and the trousers they now call “relaxed fit” should be called “bordering on obese fit.” I finally located a few pairs of “thin fit” pants in my new size, and, since I was going to get 45% off everything, also purchased a shirt and a few birthday gifts for our grandson.
Except when I got to the register I learned that my 30% discount card was not good until the next Monday (I failed to read the fine print), so I received only my senior discount. But I did get twenty “Kohl’s Dollars,” part of another promotion they were running. Since I still needed to replace my jeans, I would simply come back on Monday to get my 30% discount and spend my Kohl’s Dollars.
On Monday I found some jeans – in the “hip, urban young guy” department, which remarkably enough had a nice selection of thin fit Levis 511s (“second pair half price!”). When I took them to the register I received my 30% discount but learned that my Kohl’s Dollars were not good until Thursday (another failure to read the fine print). And to get my 30% discount I had to put the jeans on my Kohl’s account, which I did not have. I opened an account, purchased my jeans, and received – take a deep breath - another ten Kohl’s Dollars.
On Thursday I returned to Kohl’s with the thirty Kohl’s Dollars and my still-valid 30% discount card, determined not to let the Kohl’s Dollars expire, only to discover there was nothing in the entire store I wanted or needed. I picked out six pairs of nice socks, but since they were on sale I was still only halfway to my thirty Kohl’s Dollars. Which means that our grandson is going to have a very nice birthday.
I am done shopping for the foreseeable future. But the next time I need something from Kohl’s I plan to read all the fine print. Or take my accountant.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Reflections on Visiting Warsaw
1. Poland is a country that it would never have occurred to us to visit without the Alzheimer Europe conference to draw us there, and one that does not offer a great deal of what normally motivates tourists to travel – not “world-class” museums, cathedrals, castles, architecture, cuisine, wildlife, etc. The language is more difficult than romance languages, direct flights from US cities are almost non-existent; on almost any version of a Life List of places to visit, it would have a hard time cracking the time 30. And yet for experiencing the sense of “other” that is one of the most rewarding joys of travel, it holds its own with far more storied destinations.
2. We can hardly claim to “know” Warsaw after six days, with more than half our time devoted to the conference and most of the rest of it to activities related to the conference (speaking at the university, visiting a nursing home and day care facility). And yet it is in doing the sorts of things that tourists rarely do that we can discover the strongest sense of “place.” One outcome was meeting Karisa, a teaching physician who was our driver to the nursing home, and with whom we somehow formed a connection sufficient to spend the afternoon with her on our final day, meeting in Wilanow to see the poster museum (hardly a major tourist draw), walk the grounds of the summer palace, and chat in a café, forming a friendship that will likely last.
3. The tiny, basement level Georgian restaurant where we ate on our second night. No English was spoken by the hostess/waitress, who we figured out likely owns and runs the place with her father, who does the cooking. We were served a heaping platter of lamb, eggplant stuffed with more lamb, tasty appetizers and drank Georgian wine (who knew there was such a thing?). And on our last night, while looking for a restaurant we never found, we stumbled into a charming place that served one of the most memorable meals we have ever eaten, including desserts that (we were informed) are considered by local folks to be the finest in the city.
4. Who would ever expect to become genuinely fond of a conference hotel? We ate dinner twice in their restaurant (three kinds of pierogies, all very tasty). As best we can recall, it was the first time we have spent six consecutive nights in the same hotel, and we were well taken care of. We came to know the staff in both bar and restaurant a bit (I was introduced to a vodka infused with “bison grass” that I wish we could get in the states). The hotel catered the coffee breaks during the conference with delightful pastries, provided very good lunches, and:
5. Our breakfasts were free and extraordinarily good – much food from which to choose, fancy espresso machines, and I finally found a juice – black current – that I enjoy with breakfast. Our room was of modest size, but very well equipped, with two desk chairs and two reading chairs, and had free Internet (once we purchased an Ethernet adapter for our MacBook Air). Given all these extras, our room was
6. Surprisingly affordable, as was all of Warsaw. We took $100 US in zlotys and hard a hard time spending it, something that conference delegates from other countries also noted. An excellent dinner for two with a decent wine runs maybe sixty dollars, bus tickets are about a dollar, a fine vodka three or four bucks. We have not calculated our total costs yet, but it is fair to say that, ignoring airfare, the week cost about half what we would have spent in major Western European cities.
7. Pretty much the only Polish word we learned to say more or less correctly (other than “yes” and “no”) was “thank you.” That and a smile will pretty much get you by most anywhere. Except maybe France.
8. Being in Poland brought back many of our childhood memories of the “Iron Curtain,” and our sense that behind that curtain there was nothing but a grey blanket of misery. Certainly there is much to remind a visitor of the horror and tragedy that has marked Polish history, particularly 20th century history, first with the German destruction and occupation, then with the Soviet oppression. But human beings in general and Poles in particular are remarkably resilient, and Warsaw is very much a modern European city (although still playing catch-up in a few respects) with an economy that is healthy by the standards of Greece, Ireland, Spain, etc. We saw many young professionals on the streets, well-dressed and gabbing into cell phones on their way to and from work. Likely the rural areas are a different story, but we had no sense whatsoever of Poland being backwards or Western Europe’s “poor relation.”
9. Our room looked out onto the “Centrum Rondo,” which utterly fascinated us. First, picture a four-lane roundabout in the very center of a major city, with all the drivers seeming to know what lane to be in. Now run trams through the roundabout in both north/south and east/west directions, with the traffic signals somehow taking them into account. Then imagine a world underneath the roundabout with dozens of shops (including some sort of brothel that “members” appear to have keys for) and 18 (my best guess/count) sets of stairs leading up and down. Only in our last two days did we succeed in surfacing where we wanted to on the first attempt. You want urban? Warsaw’s got it.
10. We discovered once more, (as we did this past summer in England) how much we enjoy being anywhere in Europe. We envy the friends we met at the conference their ability to travel just a few hundred miles and be in another country with its own language and culture, and how at ease they are in moving between them. Most everyone but us was fluent in two or three languages and can get by in several others. It is not that Europeans cannot be provincial, but they need to work harder at it. If our budget permitted it, three trips to Europe per year would feel just about right. Sadly, it does not. Next year’s Alzheimer Europe Conference will be in Vienna, where I have heard the pastries are pretty good. Barring the sudden death of a rich uncle (and neither of us has an uncle, rich or otherwise), it is hard to imagine attending. Hard, but not completely unthinkable. And finally:
11. We enjoyed all of our new European friends. But Italians still have the most fun.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The Center for Progressive Renewal: a GLBT future for the UCC?
A few months ago I went to the Center for Progressive Renewal in Atlanta to be trained as a potential consultant to UCC congregations identified as having the potential to “turn around;” troubled or struggling churches that with a bit of guidance and direction might be able to flourish and grow again. I did not feel any particular sense of calling to become a consultant to congregations, but my dear friend Tony Robinson, himself a very successful church consultant, urged me to at least bring an open mind.
I was glad I went, first because I was able to renew friendships with some folks I had not seen in many years (Bill McKinney, retiring president of the Pacific School of Religion; Steve Sterner, who was about to retire from UCC Local Church Ministries; Ron Buford, who brought the “Still Speaking” Initiative into being; and, of course, Tony) and meet some wonderful folks who were new to me. But frankly, I had no real sense of what the Center for Progressive Renewal was all about. I had spent some time on their very slick website, and was mightily impressed by the ways in which they were using technology, but could not quite get a handle on their identity or mission.
The short version is that in an era where very few UCC Conferences can sustain a position in church development and renewal on their own staffs, the CPR is seeking to become a quasi-independent organization (they do not yet have their own 501c3 status but that is a part of their plan) that will take on this role, primarily for UCC churches but also for those belonging to other “progressive” judicatories. (I have confessed in a previous post that I struggle with the word “progressive,” so will not belabor it again here).
Their co-executive directors, Cameron Trimble and Mike Piazza, are bright and energetic. Cameron is startlingly young to be so accomplished (old guy perspective here), and recently migrated from the United Methodist Church to the UCC. Mike is the founding pastor of the Cathedral of Hope, a primarily GLBT congregation in Dallas that moved from the Metropolitan Community Church to the UCC some years ago, the largest congregation ever to join the UCC. They are supported by a dedicated and talented staff of part-time folks, with a strong focus on technology. This is a good thing: given how tight church and judicatory budgets are these days, the more that can be done on-line the better. In many important respects, they represent the future of church renewal, leadership development, coaching, etc.
They are very blunt about how they triage their consulting opportunities. They do not want to invest their limited resources in ventures not likely to succeed, which describes the overwhelming majority of UCC congregations. They believe that the future of the United Church of Christ is largely southern and primarily GLBT, meaning churches made up mostly of gay and lesbian Christians and the straight folks who like to hang out with them.
I have no real problem with either emphasis. The South is where population growth has been happening for decades, and the UCC has done a pretty miserable job of establishing itself there. Moreover, the South remains less secularized than other regions. In my view, it is hardly an accident that the Cathedral of Hope grew like wildfire in Dallas, even though it is not regarded as a “gay-friendly” part of the country. Dallas is arguably the “churchiest” of all major cities in the U.S.; every restaurant that serves Sunday brunch offers a discount if you bring your church bulletin, and department store ads still feature “church dresses.” Like everyone else in Dallas, GLBT folks want to be in church on Sunday morning. And being in a less gay-friendly region can help to build community not just among GLBT folks, but also among those who support them. Being lesbian parents is unremarkable in Seattle or Minneapolis, but it remains a challenge in the South.
So yes, there is a legitimate mission to strengthen and support GLBT congregations in the South, and yes, there is potential for meaningful growth in doing so. But then my list of problems with this strategy begins.
First, I am not nearly ready to abandon the thousands of congregations who do not fit the CPR’s vision. I still hold the conviction that small, aging congregations in areas where the population is stagnant or declining have opportunities not only to survive but to flourish if they can identify real community needs, particularly the needs of an aging population, and address them. Yes, the overall picture is glum, but I find it hard to believe that God no longer has any use for us above the Mason Dixon line.
Secondly, the GLBT emphasis brings me to the same issue I have had all along with the Still Speaking campaign, namely whether “everyone is welcome here!” is an adequate vision on which to hang the faith identity of a congregation. As Stan Hauerwas once expressed it, “I have the suspicion that God Almighty finds our genitals a good deal less fascinating than we do.” Or as a pastor of a thriving congregation recently said to my friend Tony, “Folks only come to this church looking for two things—a genuine experience of God’s presence and a safe place to talk about that experience.”
There is precious little interest in theology among the CPR staff, nor is there much desire to talk about Jesus. I would in no way want the UCC to be anything less than fully inclusive of GLBT folks, and it makes sense to me in certain regions of the country to emphasis that inclusiveness strongly and publicly, but I cling to the conviction that the calling of the church is to make Christian disciples out of us, whether we self-identify as gay or straight. Too many of our churches think that getting folks in the door and congratulating them for being such wonderful people is enough. It isn’t.
Finally, I wonder about the math in this formula for church growth and renewal. If ten percent of Americans self-identify as GLBT, and the UCC manages to attract—let us be remarkably optimistic here—ten percent of them to its congregations, our potential growth will be coming from 1% of the population.
I will continue to follow the work of the CPR and pray for its mission. I have offered myself as a resource person on addressing the issues and opportunities raised by aging and dementia, an offer that was politely received and, likely, promptly forgotten. Clearly it is not the right fit for me, but I welcome what they bring to the table and do not want to underestimate the good that God can bring out of their sincere efforts.
I was glad I went, first because I was able to renew friendships with some folks I had not seen in many years (Bill McKinney, retiring president of the Pacific School of Religion; Steve Sterner, who was about to retire from UCC Local Church Ministries; Ron Buford, who brought the “Still Speaking” Initiative into being; and, of course, Tony) and meet some wonderful folks who were new to me. But frankly, I had no real sense of what the Center for Progressive Renewal was all about. I had spent some time on their very slick website, and was mightily impressed by the ways in which they were using technology, but could not quite get a handle on their identity or mission.
The short version is that in an era where very few UCC Conferences can sustain a position in church development and renewal on their own staffs, the CPR is seeking to become a quasi-independent organization (they do not yet have their own 501c3 status but that is a part of their plan) that will take on this role, primarily for UCC churches but also for those belonging to other “progressive” judicatories. (I have confessed in a previous post that I struggle with the word “progressive,” so will not belabor it again here).
Their co-executive directors, Cameron Trimble and Mike Piazza, are bright and energetic. Cameron is startlingly young to be so accomplished (old guy perspective here), and recently migrated from the United Methodist Church to the UCC. Mike is the founding pastor of the Cathedral of Hope, a primarily GLBT congregation in Dallas that moved from the Metropolitan Community Church to the UCC some years ago, the largest congregation ever to join the UCC. They are supported by a dedicated and talented staff of part-time folks, with a strong focus on technology. This is a good thing: given how tight church and judicatory budgets are these days, the more that can be done on-line the better. In many important respects, they represent the future of church renewal, leadership development, coaching, etc.
They are very blunt about how they triage their consulting opportunities. They do not want to invest their limited resources in ventures not likely to succeed, which describes the overwhelming majority of UCC congregations. They believe that the future of the United Church of Christ is largely southern and primarily GLBT, meaning churches made up mostly of gay and lesbian Christians and the straight folks who like to hang out with them.
I have no real problem with either emphasis. The South is where population growth has been happening for decades, and the UCC has done a pretty miserable job of establishing itself there. Moreover, the South remains less secularized than other regions. In my view, it is hardly an accident that the Cathedral of Hope grew like wildfire in Dallas, even though it is not regarded as a “gay-friendly” part of the country. Dallas is arguably the “churchiest” of all major cities in the U.S.; every restaurant that serves Sunday brunch offers a discount if you bring your church bulletin, and department store ads still feature “church dresses.” Like everyone else in Dallas, GLBT folks want to be in church on Sunday morning. And being in a less gay-friendly region can help to build community not just among GLBT folks, but also among those who support them. Being lesbian parents is unremarkable in Seattle or Minneapolis, but it remains a challenge in the South.
So yes, there is a legitimate mission to strengthen and support GLBT congregations in the South, and yes, there is potential for meaningful growth in doing so. But then my list of problems with this strategy begins.
First, I am not nearly ready to abandon the thousands of congregations who do not fit the CPR’s vision. I still hold the conviction that small, aging congregations in areas where the population is stagnant or declining have opportunities not only to survive but to flourish if they can identify real community needs, particularly the needs of an aging population, and address them. Yes, the overall picture is glum, but I find it hard to believe that God no longer has any use for us above the Mason Dixon line.
Secondly, the GLBT emphasis brings me to the same issue I have had all along with the Still Speaking campaign, namely whether “everyone is welcome here!” is an adequate vision on which to hang the faith identity of a congregation. As Stan Hauerwas once expressed it, “I have the suspicion that God Almighty finds our genitals a good deal less fascinating than we do.” Or as a pastor of a thriving congregation recently said to my friend Tony, “Folks only come to this church looking for two things—a genuine experience of God’s presence and a safe place to talk about that experience.”
There is precious little interest in theology among the CPR staff, nor is there much desire to talk about Jesus. I would in no way want the UCC to be anything less than fully inclusive of GLBT folks, and it makes sense to me in certain regions of the country to emphasis that inclusiveness strongly and publicly, but I cling to the conviction that the calling of the church is to make Christian disciples out of us, whether we self-identify as gay or straight. Too many of our churches think that getting folks in the door and congratulating them for being such wonderful people is enough. It isn’t.
Finally, I wonder about the math in this formula for church growth and renewal. If ten percent of Americans self-identify as GLBT, and the UCC manages to attract—let us be remarkably optimistic here—ten percent of them to its congregations, our potential growth will be coming from 1% of the population.
I will continue to follow the work of the CPR and pray for its mission. I have offered myself as a resource person on addressing the issues and opportunities raised by aging and dementia, an offer that was politely received and, likely, promptly forgotten. Clearly it is not the right fit for me, but I welcome what they bring to the table and do not want to underestimate the good that God can bring out of their sincere efforts.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A few kind words for the Established Church
I have promised to write more about the United Church of Christ on this blog, but have been distracted by our recent trip to England to visit Memory Cafes, which I encourage you to read about on our Aging Together blog. During that trip we spent three days with Rob Merchant, a gerontologist and theologian who serves as rector to seven small Anglican parishes in rural Gloucestershire. I had the privilege of preaching in two of these churches (the “new” one was constructed in the 16th century while the oldest dates to the 11th) to congregations ranging from seven to twelve.
While we in mainline Christianity make a lot of noises about the loss of our privileged position as the de facto “established church” in America, this was my first experience with a truly established church (it is, after all, called “the Church of England”) and what it means to serve as faithful pastor in such a setting. Here are a few thoughts and observations of some relevance to those of us living and serving in the twilight of mainline Protestant Christianity in America.
1. We should never underestimate the loyalty of members to their churches, or the deep emotional and spiritual investment of those with a multi-generational history in their congregations. In practical terms it makes no sense whatsoever to try to keep these seven rural churches going. Try to imagine the maintenance issues associated with a building that is eight centuries old. The dream of one congregation is to have a working toilet in the church building, but the engineering challenges make this impossible (in rural England, remember to pee before leaving for church). Somehow they find a way to do the repairs that simply must be done to the buildings, and to maintain the cemeteries that serve as history books for the entire village. The practical thing would be to close four or five of the churches and merge them into two or three viable congregations, and one day it may come to this. But the deep center of identity and meaning these churches provide to their members suggests that they will put that day off as long as possible.
2. Rob’s predecessor served those churches for 30 years, and provided the people of the villages with the same consistent message: you are a member of the parish by virtue of living within it; you do not need to attend worship to be a good Christian (although showing up on Easter, Christmas Eve and Boxing Day is good form); and the church will always be here for you. Rob is more or less stuck with the first point, is gently trying to correct the second, and is deeply committed to the third. While the seven churches combined rarely draw a total of 100 persons to Sunday worship, he serves as caring pastor to a flock of about 3,000 souls.
3. Not all of those souls are Anglican souls. We accompanied him on a visit to an older couple, the husband an acclaimed artist with dementia (you can read their story on the Aging Together blog). She is a Roman Catholic, but the closest Catholic parish is in the city of Gloucester, quite some distance from the village of Hartpury. She clearly regards Rob as her pastor, and gratefully shares in the Eucharist with her “vaguely Christian” spouse. If I had in any way associated the Established Church with a certain degree of arrogance, what I witnessed was precisely the opposite – humble and faithful service to all in need.
4. In American Protestantism, whether Evangelical or Mainline, busyness itself is counted a virtue and a wide range of groups and programs is considered essential to a vital church. It is assumed that a church that is not growing in numbers and planning its next expansion project is somehow failing the test of faithfulness. Worship must be a major production where no detail is overlooked. As I participated in my first Anglican Evensong, trying to find my place in various service books that were older than I am (everyone else present was apparently born already knowing the practices and traditions), I had reason to question these assumptions. When the time came for my meditation, I abandoned my carefully-prepared notes and simply reflected aloud on our texts, deeply aware of how connected we were to God and one another through this simple and ancient act of worship.
Economic realities may ultimately lead to the demise of some of these congregations, but they have persisted faithfully with far fewer resources than many of our small Mainline congregations that are labeled “declining” or “dying.” Their doors, by the way, are never locked; that would be unthinkable. They are the settings where young couples marry and the dead are remembered and grieved. They are the entire village’s anchor in the transcendent realm, the embodiment of their highest aspirations and ideals. They are where the God revealed in Jesus Christ is encountered in worship. And that is enough, it is more than enough.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Churchy thoughts: the UCC is in crisis
I have allowed this blog to lie fallow for a number of months as I focused on completing my Goodwill chaplaincy and sorting out the pattern for life’s next stage. I am now officially a “retiree,” at least in the sense that I am no longer receiving a paycheck (thank you, UCC pension boards; bless you, social security!). My primary focus for the coming year will be on the work Susan and I are doing on dementia, friendship and community. This will include a fair number of speaking engagements and a bit of travel. We leave for England next week, where we will visit four towns with active Memory Café programs. Their models vary slightly, which will help us sort out which model will be the best fit for the program we hope to initiate here. In October we will both present papers at the Alzheimer’s Europe Conference in Warsaw and Susan will return to Europe for a conference in November.
But I also want to make service to the church a part of the new mix, so I would l would like to do some reflecting on the state of the church and my possible role within it in a series of posts. Those not interested in churchy posts can feel free to tune out for a month or two.
Let’s start with an ugly truth: the United Church of Christ is in tatters. Until about six weeks ago, I do not realize how rapidly its decline has accelerated. We have 38 Conferences, or regional judicatories. At least ten are now hanging by a thread: in or near bankruptcy, without any full-time staff, etc. Our own Wisconsin Conference, among the healthiest in comparative terms, has just “right-sized” its own staff in a manner that will radically change how it resources its member congregations. The average age of UCC members across the country is 62. More than half of its congregations are, at best, fragile; many will never again be served by a full-time ordained minister.
Why? A big piece of it is not UCC-specific—the role of religion in American life is greatly diminished across the boards. Young adults are disaffiliating from congregations at six times the historic rate, and many will not be coming back. The United States is becoming France (and not only because our artisan cheese is getting better).
UCC congregations are disproportionately located where populations are declining—across the northern tier of states, in dying small towns and rural areas and in inner cities where demographics have changed. We were too slow out of the gate in founding congregations in high-growth areas, and now lack the resources to do so.
We also pretty much bet the farm on the idea that if we just got the word out about how swell we are because we include everyone, folks would break down our doors. But our big “everyone is welcome here!” campaign probably helped the Unitarian-Universalists more than it helped the UCC. After all, if your core identity is built around inclusiveness, why exclude non-Christians? The principal outcome of our “Still Speaking” campaign was to make us the favorite church of young adults who have no interest in being part of a church.
These things hold true to varying degrees for the other denominations that used to be called “mainline.” The new word, it seems, is “progressive,” which I detest, because it essentially says to other church bodies “we are progressive and you are not.” It is more a political term than a theological one, and it is not playing particularly well in the political realm these days either. As my friend Tony Robinson puts it: “mainline churches used to be the ‘default choice’ for selecting a church home, and the ‘default’ is now Evangelical.” It never occurred to us that this could happen. How could anyone not choose us when we were so welcoming, inclusive, and justice-minded? Turns out folks wanted to develop a personal relationship with the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ. Who could have guessed?
So now I have made a significant commitment to the Wisconsin Conference of the UCC in sorting out how we may serve God faithfully in a challenging era where we no longer sit at the head of the table of American Christianity (hopefully we have not yet been relegated to the card table set up in the kitchen). Challenged though it may be, the Wisconsin Conference still has a great deal going for it. We have been shaped by a robust theology, a rare thing in the UCC. Our folks are wonderfully loyal overall, to their God and to their wider church family. We need to find a way to continue in faithful witness and service with virtually no resources from the national office, which has pretty much run out of creative ways to rearrange the deck chairs as the ship goes down. We represent an important tradition within the Christian family, a tradition that is unique in significant ways. I believe that God is still capable of getting some good out of us. I have a few stories to tell—about a strange and disturbing center in Atlanta, about the Ethiopian eunuch and a few other things. Yes folks, it is all-church all-the-time on this blog for awhile!
But I also want to make service to the church a part of the new mix, so I would l would like to do some reflecting on the state of the church and my possible role within it in a series of posts. Those not interested in churchy posts can feel free to tune out for a month or two.
Let’s start with an ugly truth: the United Church of Christ is in tatters. Until about six weeks ago, I do not realize how rapidly its decline has accelerated. We have 38 Conferences, or regional judicatories. At least ten are now hanging by a thread: in or near bankruptcy, without any full-time staff, etc. Our own Wisconsin Conference, among the healthiest in comparative terms, has just “right-sized” its own staff in a manner that will radically change how it resources its member congregations. The average age of UCC members across the country is 62. More than half of its congregations are, at best, fragile; many will never again be served by a full-time ordained minister.
Why? A big piece of it is not UCC-specific—the role of religion in American life is greatly diminished across the boards. Young adults are disaffiliating from congregations at six times the historic rate, and many will not be coming back. The United States is becoming France (and not only because our artisan cheese is getting better).
UCC congregations are disproportionately located where populations are declining—across the northern tier of states, in dying small towns and rural areas and in inner cities where demographics have changed. We were too slow out of the gate in founding congregations in high-growth areas, and now lack the resources to do so.
We also pretty much bet the farm on the idea that if we just got the word out about how swell we are because we include everyone, folks would break down our doors. But our big “everyone is welcome here!” campaign probably helped the Unitarian-Universalists more than it helped the UCC. After all, if your core identity is built around inclusiveness, why exclude non-Christians? The principal outcome of our “Still Speaking” campaign was to make us the favorite church of young adults who have no interest in being part of a church.
These things hold true to varying degrees for the other denominations that used to be called “mainline.” The new word, it seems, is “progressive,” which I detest, because it essentially says to other church bodies “we are progressive and you are not.” It is more a political term than a theological one, and it is not playing particularly well in the political realm these days either. As my friend Tony Robinson puts it: “mainline churches used to be the ‘default choice’ for selecting a church home, and the ‘default’ is now Evangelical.” It never occurred to us that this could happen. How could anyone not choose us when we were so welcoming, inclusive, and justice-minded? Turns out folks wanted to develop a personal relationship with the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ. Who could have guessed?
So now I have made a significant commitment to the Wisconsin Conference of the UCC in sorting out how we may serve God faithfully in a challenging era where we no longer sit at the head of the table of American Christianity (hopefully we have not yet been relegated to the card table set up in the kitchen). Challenged though it may be, the Wisconsin Conference still has a great deal going for it. We have been shaped by a robust theology, a rare thing in the UCC. Our folks are wonderfully loyal overall, to their God and to their wider church family. We need to find a way to continue in faithful witness and service with virtually no resources from the national office, which has pretty much run out of creative ways to rearrange the deck chairs as the ship goes down. We represent an important tradition within the Christian family, a tradition that is unique in significant ways. I believe that God is still capable of getting some good out of us. I have a few stories to tell—about a strange and disturbing center in Atlanta, about the Ethiopian eunuch and a few other things. Yes folks, it is all-church all-the-time on this blog for awhile!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Why I cannot rejoice in Bin Laden's death
Osama Bin Laden was a very wicked man who perpetrated great evil. He was the enemy not only of the United States, but of civilization itself. Doubtless it is a better world, arguably a safer one (although in the short term it will likely be even more dangerous), with him removed from it.
Yet I cannot rejoice in any violent death, not even that of a wicked man, for it necessarily continues the cycle of violence itself. I have never found the argument that capital punishment serves as a deterrent convincing, and I am equally skeptical that Al Qaeda will be deterred from future terrorist activity by Bin Laden’s execution. Fanatics who regard suicide bombing as a spiritually noble way to die are not likely to be dissuaded by the threat “we will bring you to justice, no matter how long it takes!”
There are many lost souls in our world, some of those souls terribly warped and twisted. Bin Laden clearly was in that latter category. I am not saying that he should not have been put to death (certainly he would not have permitted himself to be taken alive), merely that I cannot rejoice in it. My faith teaches that rejoicing is the proper response when a lost soul is reclaimed, not when a lost soul is executed. It had to be done: I understand that, even agree with it. And yet I grieve my own complicity in the cycle of responding to violence with violence.
There is a bit of irony in the timing of his death. After nearly ten years of armed conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq, Bin Laden is finally killed just as the Arab world begins to embrace freedom and democracy rather than the path of hatred he taught. The young in particular, those whose frustration made them so ripe for recruitment by Al Qaeda, are coming to believe that they have the power to shape a better future. People who believe in their future are not likely to become suicide bombers.
Some are claiming that Bin Laden’s death marks the end of a dark era, and I hope and pray that will prove to be true. In the real world eras never end tidily, of course. Some Al Qaeda cells will likely endure for years, even decades. More grievous acts of terror will occur, we will retaliate, and that retaliation will then be used as a tool to recruit more to the path of terrorism. That is how the cycle has always worked: violence cannot bring an end to violence.
What can? Hopes and dreams. In the end we all want the same things: a safe and decent world in which to raise children, friendship and community, love and laughter, and the freedom to pursue our hopes and dreams. Bin Laden is dead. May new hopes and dreams be born in the imaginations of both those who idolized him and those who hated him.
Yet I cannot rejoice in any violent death, not even that of a wicked man, for it necessarily continues the cycle of violence itself. I have never found the argument that capital punishment serves as a deterrent convincing, and I am equally skeptical that Al Qaeda will be deterred from future terrorist activity by Bin Laden’s execution. Fanatics who regard suicide bombing as a spiritually noble way to die are not likely to be dissuaded by the threat “we will bring you to justice, no matter how long it takes!”
There are many lost souls in our world, some of those souls terribly warped and twisted. Bin Laden clearly was in that latter category. I am not saying that he should not have been put to death (certainly he would not have permitted himself to be taken alive), merely that I cannot rejoice in it. My faith teaches that rejoicing is the proper response when a lost soul is reclaimed, not when a lost soul is executed. It had to be done: I understand that, even agree with it. And yet I grieve my own complicity in the cycle of responding to violence with violence.
There is a bit of irony in the timing of his death. After nearly ten years of armed conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq, Bin Laden is finally killed just as the Arab world begins to embrace freedom and democracy rather than the path of hatred he taught. The young in particular, those whose frustration made them so ripe for recruitment by Al Qaeda, are coming to believe that they have the power to shape a better future. People who believe in their future are not likely to become suicide bombers.
Some are claiming that Bin Laden’s death marks the end of a dark era, and I hope and pray that will prove to be true. In the real world eras never end tidily, of course. Some Al Qaeda cells will likely endure for years, even decades. More grievous acts of terror will occur, we will retaliate, and that retaliation will then be used as a tool to recruit more to the path of terrorism. That is how the cycle has always worked: violence cannot bring an end to violence.
What can? Hopes and dreams. In the end we all want the same things: a safe and decent world in which to raise children, friendship and community, love and laughter, and the freedom to pursue our hopes and dreams. Bin Laden is dead. May new hopes and dreams be born in the imaginations of both those who idolized him and those who hated him.
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