Let’s look at the jump, said my fellowship supervisor.
I glanced around, bewildered. The other fellows calmly opened their newspapers so they could read the conclusion of the story that began on page 1.
I didn’t go to a j-school – a university with a journalism college. My small, liberal arts school didn’t offer a single journalism class. How I landed at the Indianapolis Star for a post-graduation fellowship was a combination of my passion for writing – and fluke.
Because I hadn’t taken any of these primer classes, the jargon was foreign. Through the next two months – and nearly 10 years of on-the-job training, I learned about slugs (the names of the stories), nut graphs (the key sentence or heart of the story), budgets (what is planned to run in the next day’s paper), and DTs (double-trucks, when a story and photo package runs across the centerfold of the newspaper).
It was a steep learning curve.
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The goo of the marshmallow hadn't begun to seep over the chocolate and graham cracker before the requests started. Tell us a story. A good one. A long one. Scary. But not too scary.
Tell us a story.
By this time, our last night of a two-week camping trip, I had already discharged most of my campfire story arsenal. I started to cannibalize movies, books and urban legends, creating a PG-mash up of Psycho, Flowers in the Attic, the one-armed escaped convict with a hook and a dash of Hansel and Gretl.
For the ending, I enlisted classic campfire story technique -- one that left possible menace hanging in the air, primed for imagination to take the tale on a new course.
I settled into my chair, ready for s'mores.
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Will the Episcopal Church thrive because of social networking sites, or will we wither away because these now serve as an effective alternative to Church? Will our congregations, schools, and camps and conference centers be a refuge to those who have been isolated by these new technologies, or will these institutions simply become irrelevant in the hyper-individualism of our uber-connected world?
The short answer, it appears, is “yes.”
These questions are based on a new resource found on the Episcopal Camps and Conference Centers website called “Building the Continuum: Scenarios for the Future of Episcopal Faith Formation.” Reflecting the input of 70 leaders from across the Episcopal Church, this document offers up four “scenarios” on what the future of our congregations, schools, and camps and conference centers might look like. Interestingly, all four scenarios exclusively focus on the rise of technology.
I’ve briefly summarized the four scenarios below, but be sure to check out page six of the following document for their full descriptions:
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St. Lydia’s, the church I attend in Brooklyn, is both experimenting and following in a long tradition. As I’ve written about here before, we combine liturgy and a meal. The practice is a very old one, but you won’t find many churches doing that these days. Our pastor tweaks ancient liturgies or develops new prayers. It’s a creative endeavor, but one rooted tradition.
God’s first act in the Bible is to create. It’s important that we, made in the image of God, continue to engage in creative acts. God, however, makes the heavens and earth out of the void. We are fortunate to have some materials to work with: Our experience of the world around us, scripture, and the religious tradition that has developed over thousands of years. St. Lydia’s is a helpful model for finding the balance between creative action and structure, allowing us to be creative within a framework, using the elements passed down to us.
During the sermon at St. Lydia’s parishioners are invited to participate, but are encouraged to share stories, rather than opinions. This allows people to think and tell stories but keeps the sermon sharing time from spiraling out of control or becoming a debate. Of course, not every church will want it’s members to participate in the sermon, but every church should think of ways to engage its members in new ways, to help them say and think and do things they haven’t before. This might be within the context of weekday services or singing groups or book studies or art classes. Whatever it is, it should allow people to share some part of themselves, challenge themselves, or create something new, while also giving them some guidelines to work within.
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When she was about 8, my daughter decided to throw a party. She selected a theme, planned the menu and activities, and invited the guests. What I didn’t know at the time was that she also planned how she expected her guests to act. And then got very upset when they didn’t.
This memory came flooding back as I read this line by LeeAnne Watkins: “I feel like I’m selling something that people don’t want—and then getting mad at them for not wanting it.”
LeeAnne’s article “This just isn’t working: When people don’t show up,” was posted on The Christian Century website on June 4, 2012. She’s sharing her congregation’s decision to cancel all of its adult education and midweek services and her decision to stop “getting seduced by the latest thing that’s supposed to work, putting mountains of energy into making it really good and then getting cranky with people because they don’t come. So we stopped it all.”
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In Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace Miroslav Volf invites us to think of God’s generosity and our response not as linear, giving and receiving, but as circulating, going around and around and spilling out all over the place.
The gifts of grace, love, and joy circulate first among the Trinity. The Three get so caught up in giving and receiving among themselves that their delight in generosity and praise becomes a mighty whirlpool. It spills over into creation, showering all things seen and unseen into our midst. As ones created in the image of God, we are moved to bless, break, and share all that we have in God’s name.
But wait…how do we make that happen? We can’t truly “give” it back to God—God created it! From God’s point of view, it’s like my giving my child some money to go buy me a birthday present. I’m empowering the child’s generosity, enabling the child to express her love and appreciation, but I’m not actually receiving anything that I don’t already have access to. Is her ability to pull up my online wish list really that special?
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This Sunday is the Trinity Sunday, one of the seven principle feast days of the year and the only one that addresses squarely what we believe as Christians. The tradition of the Sunday following Pentecost marking the Holy Trinity began when Thomas Becket was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury on that day in 1162 and called for the observance of Trinity Sunday on that day ever after.
Rublev’s icon painted in the early 15th Century is the most famous attempt to capture the concept of the Trinity in art. It leaves the impression that our God resides in an ongoing conversation of creation, redemption, and sanctification and that we are invited to sit at God’s table and enter into the conversation.
While the Trinity is a statement of doctrine it is at its heart an affirmation of mystery. Logically, it is a paradox. Something cannot be three and one at the same time. I think one source of the power of this way of pondering God is drawn from this paradox. Brain science has shown that the human mind struggling with a logical paradox causes a neural firing that ignites all regions of one’s brain. One of the exercises Albert Einstein used to stimulate his mind in seeking the discovery of his theory of relativity was to simply sit and contemplate paradox.
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I used to think I couldn’t speak in tongues.
Several years ago, I reported on a story about Jews and Pentecostals coming together to learn about the Passover meal of seder.
When the photographer and I arrived, we met the Jewish couple in the parking lot of the church. As we entered, we were warmly embraced by members of the congregation. It was easy to tell the interlopers: the four of us were white, the rest of the congregation was African-American.
The pastor asked us all to join hands and stand for the opening prayer. About 20 minutes into the prayer, one of the Pentecostal women began speaking a language I didn’t understand. I recognized the cadence and emotion – she was beseeching the Lord. But I didn’t have any clue what she was saying.
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Churches often fail to observe copyright laws, or even the basics of courtesy. We have this unfortunate habit of thinking that just because it is "for the church" it is OK if I make a few copies of this or that. So, Sunday School teachers photocopy lesson plans and download photographs or craft designs from the web. The children's chapel uses a little photocopied song book someone assembled a few years ago. The youth leaders play a movie they rented for the youth group. The choir director makes photocopies of the anthem. The church's website is has a music piece playing in the background. The newsletter features photographs from the internet or scanned in and used without the photographer's permission. And I can not tell you how often I visit a church that has all of the hymns printed in the bulletin (sometimes even with music) and nothing about a license that gives them permission to do so. That day's bulletin alone puts their church at risk of $400,000+ in fines! In a typical church with several of these violations, the weekly toll could easily be close to a million dollars a week! Don't think anyone will sue a a church? Think again....
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... let us love one another, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. (1 John 3:18)
Whenever I read this week’s Epistle, Audrey Hepburn’s voice jumps into my head as Eliza Doolittle explodes at Freddie:
Words, words, words
I’m so sick of words!
Never do I ever want to hear another word
There isn’t one I haven’t heard…
…Say one more word and I’ll scream!
…Don’t waste my time, show me!
So….how? How do we put words into action? And just as importantly, how do we fall short? When do we withhold the love and compassion, the effort and dedication, the embodied offerings that God would have from us through our baptism? With seven billion people on the planet, how can we possibly seek and serve the Christ we see in all of them?
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If you went to church camp, you may remember it fondly – friends, games, singing in chapel and swimming in a pool or lake. Or, like me, your feelings about camp may be mixed. You loved the singing in chapel, enjoyed some of the games, but the first few days were always painful until you adjusted to the other kids in your cabin. There was also the fact that you never had a moment alone except when you were in the bathroom.
I’ve been reading Susan Cain’s book, Quiet. The book is about how modern society values extroverts and often undervalues introverts. I’m much less shy than I used to be, but still very introverted, and this book is full of revelations. Suddenly the dissonance between who I am and how I should act – socially and professionally – makes a lot more sense.
The book touches on many of the author’s own experiences, including camp, which made me think about my own days at an Episcopal camp in Texas. I have many fond memories of that camp, but it was also exhausting. It was cool to be extroverted and social and friendly, but I was shy and reserved. The camp counselors were always full of energy and seemed to enjoy performing for the kids, and almost every activity was social. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only kid who found it exhausting.
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We had only been dating for a couple of weeks.
It was dreary, cold fall day so we decided to spend the afternoon watching TV. Our channel surfing landed on The Ten Commandments, Charlton Heston-style.
We watched as the Egyptians chased Moses to the Red Sea.
“Oh my gosh! What’s gonna happen? They’re not going to make it.” My afternoon companion leaned forward, gripped by the drama. I looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Um, it’s the Ten Commandments,” I reminded him.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve never seen this movie before.”
At that moment, I knew I needed to take another dip in the dating pool.
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Sunday is Earth Day. And, despite my best intentions, I haven’t prepared anything to acknowledge the day.
Every year, Earth Day sneaks up on me. Like spring in New England, I know it is coming: I get little tastes and hints of it during the damp, grey days of March and April. I know I should plan for it, but somehow it doesn’t get added to the ‘to do’ list. And, with out fail, one day I wake up and it’s here.
This year, a press release from the Episcopal Public Policy Network brought Earth Day into focus for me, making me thankful to email which keeps me connected to the wider world as I work from my home office, with only my two cats (affectionately known as the ‘interns’) for company.
So, for all of us who will scramble to incorporate Earth Day into our Sunday worship or Christian formation, here’s a few links to faith based and other Earth Day resources:
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Imagine if every church meeting began by asking the same question: “How will what we are doing here affect or involve people living in poverty?”
In 1991 the late Roman Catholic Bishop Kenneth E. Untener of Saginaw, Michigan, issued a decree that for three months all church meetings, at every level, regardless of purpose, must begin by asking this question. This practice resulted in a heightened awareness “not only about the poor, but also about us, and how we think about (or don't think about) the poor.” (See “How Should We Think About the Poor”.)
Bringing this practice to the Episcopal Church during the calendar year 2013 is the goal of the Association for Episcopal Deacons who have submitted this as a resolution to the General Convention of The Episcopal Church.
“Care and empowerment for people living on the margins of society is certainly one of the core messages proclaimed in the gospel, but too often the needs and concerns of people living in poverty are treated as an afterthought or ignored completely when we are doing the church’s business,” said Deacon Pamela Nesbit, President of AED. “This is not an abstract or theoretical issue; many people are extremely concerned about the proposed church budget that has just been released, a document that seems to completely ignore our mission and who we are as a church in favor of maintaining buildings and the offices of church leaders,” she added.
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On Good Friday I went to church for an hour and a half. Being a three-hour service I skipped a good portion of it, but as the church website explained, worshippers were welcome to come and go as their schedules permitted. I have to confess I left early -not so much because I had to be somewhere - but because it was a beautiful day and the beauty of the church did not quite match that of the April sky.
Holy Week is a commitment.
Three or four services in as many days sometimes is more than even those of us who have grown up in the church can commit to. Throughout my life I have washed feet at Maundy Thursday services, followed the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday afternoons, and have developed a deep love for the Easter Vigil liturgy.
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One of the delights in being new is experiencing a church’s long-held tradition for the first time.
On Easter Sunday, a day full of tradition and pomp, I was moved by our new church’s custom of “flowering the cross.”
As the hand bells rang out, “Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” the choir and priests processed. They were followed by a trail of children, bedecked in ruffled dresses, spiral-curled ringlets, and cock-eyed clip-on ties. Each child held a flower or two – roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, carnations, even bird-of-paradise. At the chancel steps stood a thick, wooden cross with holes drilled on the front.
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Taking off your socks in a strange place is never particularly comfortable. What if the floor isn’t clean? What if your feet smell? We’d rather sit in our pews and stick to the rituals we know. Still, on Maundy Thursday Episcopalians around the country will remove their shoes and socks and wash each other’s feet.
Growing up I loved watching the families and friends, even elderly ladies and men get on their knees and wash another person’s feet. There is something moving about simply watching one person serve another.
Jesus knows how hard it can be to get up close to other people, to their feet, which aren’t always pretty and don’t always smell that good, and still treat them with dignity and love. Sometimes it’s easier to love one another at a distance, but community does not allow us to do that. It calls us to work hard and make ourselves uncomfortable and spend time with people who we may not always like.
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I believe I experienced an entirely new understanding of love when I found, and joined, the Episcopal church. My previous perceptions of myself, my God, and what God could possibly think of me cannot simply be blamed on that old “Catholic Guilt” of my childhood. I befriended many evangelical friends throughout my teenage and college years who presented an alternative view. Still, I was continually directed towards this portrait of a God who expected perfection, performance, and success in a form that seemed more about outward portrayal than inward transformation. This was my experience through nine years of Bible studies and new-age churches, but, still merely my own.
When I found the Episcopal church, through relationships with priests and passionate friends, I found healing. It was then I realized I had spent nearly twenty years believing in a God that never approved of me—how, then, could I truly love myself? In the Episcopal church, I encountered a God who already loved me and was not asking me to earn anything, or torment myself for his approval. A God who accepted me despite my shortcomings, and wanted me to love myself the same.
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What if we didn’t see other Christians as competition but as fellow collaborators in the kingdom of God?
It was our church’s turn to host the monthly meeting of the community welcome wagon.
But this isn’t a Chamber of Commerce, coupon-begetting group. Rather this welcome wagon is comprised of volunteers from the local churches. About three decades ago, a few clergy had the idea of banding together to welcome new people into the community. It quickly moved from clergy to lay leadership, where it has lived and thrived since.
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Soon, while pastors and priests are preparing their sermons for Easter, parishioners will be participating in the familiar liturgies of Holy Week. When writing, whether its preparing a blog entry or a sermon, we are often instructed to avoid cliché - anything that has been said so many times that it loses its meaning. Yet as we use and reuse the prayers in the Prayer Book, the refrains of Holy Week, the Stations of the Cross, and even the cushion beneath our knees seem to gain meaning over time. The sermon and the liturgy are an illustration of the tension in every part of religious life – that between repetition and ritual, and the need to be creative and new.
I recently heard writer and popular philosopher Alain de Botton speak about his new book Religion for Atheists, and one of the points he made was that religion teaches us by repetition in a way that most other education in America does not. We sometimes imagine that a good idea will stick around simply by its merit, but current politics and most of human history points to the fact this is false. We need to hear something again and again so we can absorb it and use it. We are more than our conscious minds. Religion, by its repetition and its rituals, teaches our subconscious, our spirit, and even our bodies with the rituals we perform each week.
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