|
To everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven - Ecclesiastes 3:1 by The Rev. Hartshorn Murphy During our newcomer's classes, we often ask people this question: "Why have you come; what are you looking for?" We do this because it is better to be honest about which needs we can and can not meet before people join our community. It is our intention to avoid heartache and disappointment in this way or, at the very least; we can begin negotiations for more reasonable expectations. For example, if a new person said that their mom was in a nursing home out in the valley, is lonely and depressed and that he would like the clergy to visit at least once a week; we might reasonably say: we can not guarantee that, we can go once a month and perhaps have a lay eucharistic minister go once a month as well, is that sufficient? If it is not, it would be better for that person to move on to a congregation that could more nearly meet their needs and expectations. But the other side of this question is this: "what are you willing to give?" Occasionally, the "wants" and "willings" are in direct conflict. I remember well a young woman who came new to St. A's some years ago. In response to the question: "what do you seek?"; she said that she was looking for a sense of community. To feel connected. But in response to: "what will you give?"; she sadly indicated that with the travel demands of her present job, if she could be here once a month, she'd be "doing good." Clearly, her need for community and the availability to be in community were in direct conflict. Her inevitable inability to find community here should not been seen as our failing; rather her expectations were unrealistic. Now flip the equation: "what are the expectations of the church as a Christian community for its members?" My guess is that in just framing that question and articulating it that directly, some of you readers may be feeling a bit anxious. Why? Because whereas the Church indeed has hopes for its members − in terms of loyalty, participation, financial support, prayerfulness and so on − the reality is that the Church, as a volunteer organization, can require none of it. Our power is not in coercion but in persuasion. But conflicts emerge in congregational life when the clergy or some members of the congregation expect other members to agree with them on what should be a priority for all of us. Occasionally, this is phrased as something all "real churches" should do. I remember serving as a consultant in one of our small mission congregations in a rural area that was in "expectations conflict." Some members were bitterly disappointed that the church did not have a youth group under the leadership for their new Vicar because all "true churches" had a good youth group. The fact that there were no young people in the congregation and, a demographic study revealed, virtually no young people within five miles of this retirement community, was not seen as a factor. That they had a vital ministry to the elderly and shut-in was not valued as a strength because all "real churches" ought to have a youth group (like the one, no doubt, they had growing up). The problem with the "we oughta's" in church life is that it generates a sense of guilt and failure unrelated to the reality of the context of the ministry. Such judging behavior is experienced by others as shaming and it is always inappropriate. My friend Chas Belknap was once the Vicar of St. Francis Church in Norwalk. St. Francis was a struggling blue collar congregation with few resources and substantial challenges including a changing neighborhood and aging buildings. Chas noticed that from time to time someone would suggest that "the church" should do this or that and when, almost inevitably, it did not happen, everyone (especially he as the pastor) was blamed. There was little willingness to ask: was this a reasonable expectation to begin with given our resources, human and financial? Being cleverer than most of us, Chas invented the concept of the "predetermined critical mass." When someone identified a program or event they felt the church should engage in, Chas would ask: "how many people do you need, at minimum, to consider this a success so that you might go forward with it?" If they said "ten"; he'd say: "pick a date and put a sign up sheet in the narthex (entranceway), promote it as a possibility and if you get 10, we'll do it and if not, we won't. If we don't go forward, that doesn't mean that we're a bad church, but only that the time is not ripe for this right now." For times change. Needs change. Expectations change. Congregations themselves change. Some things need to lay fallow until the season is ripe. We may need to take a longer, and more patient, view. At St. A's, there is much to be grateful for. There are things we do exceptionally well and things we could improve upon, no doubt. But one thing I hope that we strive to maintain and to expand upon is the philosophy that says that this is a church that will "always invite but will never shame." For the truth of it is that shame produces nothing but guilt and resentment; for no one should be made to feel like a failure because their priorities are out of line with another's. Over time, that young woman who sought community but traveled much, had a change of employment such that she is rarely on the road now. Most Sundays finds her here and deeply engaged in a community she so dearly desired and has so clearly found. Times change. Situations change. We change. Perhaps being always welcomed when and if she could be with us − without judgment or shaming when she could not − made all the difference. Copyright © 2007 St. Augustine by-the-Sea
|
