Episcopal Church Foundation Vital Practices

My son and his friend pulled out the bingo game a few nights ago, and I felt the mantle of captain being passed from mother to daughter. I’ll call the numbers, I told them. Don’t touch. 

Deflated, they begged. We’ll be careful. We won’t lose any. Please let us be the callers too. 

And I vacillated, torn between the way we’ve always done it and sharing the spotlight with these eager 7-year-olds. In the end, common sense won, and the kids shined as they took their turns calling out the number and rattling the bingo cage. 

I think about the traditions in our church. We have the kitchen ladies who rule the cupboards with an iron fist. What started as a way to keep order morphed into a way to maintain control. I’ve heard tale of newcomers being chastised: That is not where we keep the dish towels. I know the same is true with our altar guilds and the greening of the church leaders. There are the ways we’ve always done it. Period. 

I’m a big fan of traditions. And even though we won’t be with my mom this Thanksgiving, we’ll play bingo. I already have the dollar-store prizes. But this year, we’ll re-shape the tradition a bit, for this new time and place. And everybody will get a turn as bingo chief. 

B-4. I-19. Bingo.