Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

I’m writing this post from Lion’s Camp Merrick, a beautiful camp set along the picturesque shores of the Potomac River – looking west about a mile to the Virginia shore – in far western Charles County, Maryland. This is where our diocesan summer camp, Camp EDOW – the acronym stands for Episcopal Diocese of Washington – is kicking off its fifth year. (Truth be told, I’ve just stepped in to write this blog in a lovely air conditioned cabin, an added blessing given that the thermometer’s 91 degrees actually only feels like 100 right now in southern Maryland!) This is a beautiful place to begin with, and made even more special by the happy sounds of children and counselors, ropes course elements, and the daily challenge of archery, swimming in the pool and canoeing on the river, Eucharist celebrated atop an overturned canoe, and bible study late at night by candlelight in the cabins.

But I’m also humbled and thrilled that, for one, we have this camp opportunity in our diocese and, two, this ministry continues to catch hold of kids, families, adults, and staff who feel drawn to this amazing experience and come back to Camp EDOW, year after year.

Which is to say, in short, I am reminded every summer at Camp EDOW that we can create new, vibrant ministries in our church. More, doing so doesn’t require hugely innovative ideas (sleep away camp, for instance, has been around for a long while) and it doesn’t take too much effort (there’s consistent work, don’t get me wrong, but we started with one week, five or six adults who formed a committee, and the hopes that families might send their children).

What Camp EDOW, in particular, did require was a hope, a desire, and a commitment to do something well, even if it wasn’t big or splashy; just well. I think this lesson applies to many of us who love Jesus and, to boot, love His Church.

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Facebook can stir some intense nostalgia with its memories feature. I logged on the other day to see a picture of our church’s Vacation Bible School from three years ago, the last one we held.
The kids were so sweet and little, and I was awash for a moment with nostalgia. I thought, briefly: I wish we still did a vacation bible school.

And then I remembered all the reasons why we moved to a different Christian formation offering. I shared our choice in a couple of blogs last year but thought it might be useful to circle back a year later, kind of like “Child Stars: Where Are They Now” or an update on “Shark Tank.” (Read them here and here.)

After years of declining attendance and waning support by volunteers, we reevaluated how we were offering Christian formation in the summer. Our awesome Christian formation director (who is very part-time so this can be done at any church of any size!) introduced us to Messy Church. The concept, which is all the rage in England right now, is an all-ages gathering with a shared meal, crafts, and simple worship.

Last summer, we offered Messy Church three times, once a month during the school summer break. We wondered how we would fare this year.

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We all have ideas, but where do they come from? I am fascinated by the ways in which people come up with new things. I’m sure you have an idea that you are toying with, for a business, a ministry, or maybe even a blog series.

You may think that great ideas come from an epiphany, that “eureka!” moment of brilliant insight. Charles Darwin’s eureka! moment supposedly came when he was reading something Thomas Malthus (an English clergyman, no less) had written about population growth. All of a sudden, the basic idea of natural selection popped into his head.

But what if ideas come from more of a slow burn than a flash in the pan?

Author Steven Johnson discusses this in his great TED talk “Where good ideas come from.” Johnson says ideas tend to be more of a slow hunch than a sudden epiphany.

Your ideas come from a lifetime of experiences. Your ideas come from the things that interest you. So let your thoughts build and stew in the back of your mind. And pay attention to those things you are paying attention to.

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So this will be a short post as we are in the throes of packing and the movers come later this morning – but I had one of those experiences that puts a few things in perspective. At 11:30 in the evening I ran to Walgreen’s to get some last minute essentials for our trip to Tucson. I have spent the day packing, cleaning out the garage, cleaning off lawn furniture, throwing away lots of trash, and more. So after 15 hours of that, I was not looking my Sunday best.

When I went in to the store, a young woman was at the counter. She was in soccer shorts and a t-shirt and seemed to be having a pretty animated though convivial conversation with the man working the counter. I got my few items and went to stand in line while wondering why her transaction was taking so long. I overheard her say, “It’s a great church!” It turns out she had been telling him all about her church – that’s what was taking so long. When she noticed that I was listening in – she asked me “Do you want to know more?”

I was taken in by her energy and said that I would. She explained that she goes to the Upper Room Church which was started in Dallas but has branched out to Denver. She loves it because it is focused on “The work Jesus did.” When I asked what that meant, she said, “Well, for example, we’ve all been out tonight going to places where the homeless gather at night and inviting them to breakfast tomorrow morning. No strings, just a meal and a conversation partner.”

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What do you do when things don’t go according to plan?

Episcopalians are planners. We like things to be decent and in order, and we like to know who’s doing what well in advance of the liturgy or event we are planning. We make a rota, order the correct number of bulletins, set the correct number of chairs.

Except life isn’t really predictable, is it? I was recently at a very well planned conference, serving as chaplain. A family tragedy meant that the musician who was to have been with us couldn’t come at the last minute. The day before the conference, Orlando happened. Our well-laid plans no longer made the kind of sense they had just the week before.

I am neither a musician nor a fabulous creator of prayer space. But I knew we needed music and a place of remembrance and prayer. So I sang, mostly on key. I asked for a dedicated corner of space and some candles. I printed out the names and pictures of victims. Most importantly, I invited the gathered community to add to my efforts.

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In the July Vital Practices Digest, we offer 5 resources centered on spiritual aspects of leadership in congregations, with the 5th a resource to help in developing year-round stewardship in your congregation.

It’s easy and free to connect with more great resources for your congregation. Subscribe to ECF Vital Practices to receive Vestry Papers and this Vital Practices Digest in your inbox each month.

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People warned us not to go. With the Euro soccer tournament and the wounds still fresh from last November’s terror attack in Paris, France was on high alert. Belgium was reeling from the bombing at the Brussels airport. Germany is flooded with refugees. Maybe, concerned friends and family members suggested, we should postpone our trip to Europe.

But we forged ahead, two decades of saving and dreaming unwilling to be daunted by possible threats. Eight days after our flight home to Cincinnati from Paris, a man turned celebration into terror. He transformed a truck into a weapon to mow over crowds of people who had just finished watching fireworks in honor of Bastille Day — akin to our Fourth of July.

If our trip was tomorrow instead of a month ago, I wonder if we would go. Among the 84 dead are a father and 11-year-old boy from Texas. Our son is 11. Although we didn’t visit Nice and the south of France, we ascended the Eiffel Tower, explored the city center of Munich, walked cobblestone streets in Belgium, and put miles on our pedometers in London. I can’t imagine the whiplash of emotions, from a longed-for family vacation to murder on the street. As I mourn with this family and with all of those killed in the attack, I turn inward, wanting to create a safe space for all those I love and to push away all the unknowns, to fear the stranger.

And yet there is Dean.

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We come to our churches with many gifts. One spirit supplies our gifts. Diverse as we are, we are one in this spirit. This is lovely, Biblical reality. So why do the fruits of our gifts sometimes seem a little sparse?

In many congregations, the fruits are organized by committees. That’s great - many hands make light work, etc. However sometimes the organization itself may block ministries from their full harvest potential.

In his book, Governance and Ministry: Rethinking Board Leadership (2009, The Alban Institute), Dan Hotchkiss reminds us that committees may not be the right structure for vital ministries. Lumping all aspects of a certain ministry into one committee’s lap may overwhelm and make the committee members wary of new ideas or initiatives. Hotchkiss encourages us to separate governance from ministry: 

"…there is no reason why someone with a heart for child care needs to attend meetings to interpret the insurance company requirements about child safety – or vice versa." (pg. 76)

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This past week you may have noticed herds of people wandering around neighborhoods, staring at their phones, and searching for something. Those somethings were Pokémon, and those people were trying to catch them in the mobile game Pokémon Go.

You can physically see the way Pokémon Go, barely a week old, is affecting the real world. Players are searching for, among other things, “gyms,” the game’s focal point for between-player competition. There’s a “gym” near me that is simply a tree in a park with no real benches or meeting spaces. Still, on a Sunday afternoon a dozen teenagers were there, at the tree, hanging out and defending the gym.

But what does this have to do with church?

Anecdotal reports from the game’s first week indicate that many of the game’s items are turning up in or near churches. Sanctuaries have unsuspectingly been tabbed as “gyms” or Pokémarts (where players buy virtual items for use in the game). In my neighborhood, it seems more than half of the landmarks in Pokémon Go are churches.

It’s not hard to imagine that well-meaning clergy and laity sitting in a church office might take a tone-deaf approach to a casual visit of a Pokémon Trainer (the name given to real-life players). That’s a wholly unimaginative and inhospitable way to treat our new Poké-visitors.

Instead, take a cue from this indie clothing store, which got into the spirit of the game by saying, “Come get your PokéBalls and previously rocked threads. Gotta catch ‘em all in style!” What if a church said, “Come get your PokéBalls with coffee and free wi-fi!”

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Angels in the Bible often say, “Fear not!” as they are about to deliver some awesome news from God. These words suggesting “Do not be afraid,” can be a needed preface to many conversations about embarking on a capital campaign.

It is natural to be a bit fearful, or at least skeptical, of the unknown results of a major undertaking like a capital campaign, especially if a congregation has not conducted one for several years or, in fact, ever! Yet the lingering fear of failure can loom large as reflected in concerns such as:

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CNN calls it “the 90s fad that never died,” [1] and in fact Pokémon is on another upsurge. Nintendo’s new smartphone-based app / game, Pokémon GO, has been released in the US, New Zealand and Australia – topping the US iOS and Android charts within hours of availability – whereas the worldwide release scheduled for the first week of July hit some snags. The servers went live on July 4 in Singapore and Taipei but by 9 o’clock that evening they were shut down, apparently struggling to keep up with the huge demand for the game.

Pokémon GO is a new twist on the old characters and an even more interactive spin on the relatively new smartphone game, now inspiring players to not just stare at their tablets but get out into the world – literally go to different places to improve their scores. I learned about Pokémon GO this week when the grandson of a parishioner popped into the 8 o’clock service. He’s not normally known for showing up at church, let alone at the early service. “God moves in mysterious ways,” his grandmother said, and then told me all about the game – and that St. George’s Episcopal Church in Valley Lee, Maryland is one of the game’s hotspots! Pardon my Poké-ignorance, but I’ve since learned that at various places – St. George’s being one of them – there are such things as Pokéstops (from CNN’s article: “Geotagged locations, i.e. a landmark or destination, where you can get Pokéballs and other treats”); and Pokémon gyms (again, CNN: “Where you can battle your Pokémon with other Pokémon to earn control over different gyms, as well as other prizes. These are geotagged like Pokéstops.”)

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I’m always interested in unique and easy fundraisers. So I was drawn to the bottle stall at Church of the Ascension in Munich, Germany (Anglican/Episcopal).

Various bottles filled a card table. Wine, of course. But also shampoo. Peanut butter. Homemade jam. Mouthwash. Apple juice. Water. Each bottle was marked with a number. For two euros (about $2.30), you could draw a number. (Or three numbers for five euros). The stipulation was that there was no trading the number. All draws were final. You might end up with a nice bottle of wine. Or a bottle of ketsup.

We were visiting the church on vacation and had stayed for an “all-American” cookout. Wanting to support the church, I bought three numbers. The first corresponded to Jif peanut butter. Oh, said one of the woman, you got one of the best bottles. Really, I thought. Apparently despite globalization, Jif peanut butter is hard to get in Germany. The bottle was purchased at a PX (a store on one of the Army bases). Because our access to peanut butter is pretty good, I donated the bottle back. I was lucky that another number corresponded to some homemade Erdbeere jam (strawberry). I already was imagining how it would taste on warm toast. Later in the cookout, the jar ended up going home with a family of eight. They had just arrived from the US for a year study program. I bet the jam tasted just as good on their toast as it would have on mine.

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This past weekend I was in Arizona visiting family. I live in New York City; most of my Arizona family live in small mining towns in the southeast part of the state, so I don’t see them often. It’s very hot there, but it’s also beautiful. The highways cut through hills covered in cacti and scrub brush. There are low mountains on the horizon and lots of bright blue sky.

Much of my family on my dad’s side has lived their entire lives in Arizona. Many of them work for the nearby copper mine. They also love to talk and tell stories, so I when I’m there I spend a lot of time listening.

It’s easy in New York or in the Episcopal Church to spend most of my time with people just like me. Most of my Facebook friends are liberal college graduates and so are most of the people I regularly interact with at work. Leaving New York and listening to my family’s stories exposes me to a different life and a slightly different way of seeing the world. Many of their lives have had a very different trajectory than mine. Around kitchen tables my aunt talked about her faith and my grandmother recounted memories of her life in a small town. She turned 80 this past weekend, and so she has many stories to tell, some happy and some not.

Sometimes, I confess, I got tired of listening (they really do like to talk), but I was glad to see them. They welcomed me and my wife with open arms and made us feel at home, even though it had been years since I’d visited. They reminded me of where I come from and helped me understand my own life a little better. Each time I see them and listen to their stories they expand my understanding of the world just a bit.

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Two hundred and forty years ago, representatives of the thirteen English colonies in North America declared their independence. They took this action on the second of July. We celebrate the day of its signing: July 4th. Of course, fireworks lit the sky and we cheered our nation’s beginning.

Like so much of the past, we too easily see this moment in time through rose-colored glasses. John Turnbull’s iconic mural of the declaration’s signing that adorns the Capital rotunda conveys confidence, unity, and grandeur. The reality was quite different. Even for its principal author, the debate on the declaration was torturous as he watched his masterpiece be whittled down through compromise. While history reports the passage of the declaration as a unanimous vote, that assertion masks the deep divisions over the question. Indeed, the New York delegation abstained on the final vote, and several delegates abstained or voted against the measure. John Dickson, delegate from Pennsylvania and noted founding father, abstained and even declined to sign the final proclamation.

In this season, when there is so much division in our political life, we do well to recognize that even our moments of greatest achievement, that call forth our greatest celebrations, are not easy affairs. Conflict and division are present in all critical moments in our history. However, what is notable about that fateful and hot July day was the commitment to the commonwealth. The debate and decisions about a vision for common life, while not perfect, were transcendent. Those gathered delegates dared to hope that a new covenant of governance and rights could be achieved. Despite ragtag armies in retreat and empty coffers, they stepped forward.

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There are so many different ways to imagine a country. In the US, we often focus on politics and power. Who’s the president? Who’s in Congress? Who are our friends and enemies? How can we make deals that are good for us? How strong is our economy?

This July 4 weekend, I found myself imagining us in another way: as a giant collection of neighbors. As I preached to my congregation, many of whom are undocumented immigrants, and aren’t quite sure if they are even included in what is being celebrated on July 4, I preached about neighbors. I preached about Jesus sending us out to make neighbors out of strangers. I preached about Jesus sending strangers who seek to be our neighbors, bearing only an offer of peace. I preached about the riskiness and fragility of a project that is entirely predicated on the offer of peace and the gift of hospitality. I preached about the power Jesus saw in such simple actions, and the disciples’ wonder and joy at how well it actually seemed to work.

We live in a time when the threads that bind us together are often invisible. We have probably never been more connected to neighbors around the world -- through the internet and trade and global economies and foreign wars and mass migration. But we may also have never felt quite so disconnected from one another close to home. Divisions loom large. Urban, suburban, rural. Latino, Black, White, Asian, Indigenous, Multiracial. Northern, Southern Eastern, Western, Midwestern. Coastal, middle of the country. Republican, Democrat, disaffected, confused, despairing. Prosperous, insecure, unemployed. Afraid of the police, afraid of terrorists, afraid of each other.

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Church. Hearing the word, my brain immediately ‘sees’ a building with a steeple. And, I recall the stories of leaking roofs, faulty boilers, and so on.

Yet, when I began looking for stories of how congregations were managing their buildings, what I discovered was story after story of churches using their buildings and grounds in service to their hopeful vision of what God is calling them to do in their communities: Leaky roofs notwithstanding.

Here are their stories:

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Editor’s note: Long weekends are wonderful. Until you return to work on Tuesday. For today’s summer rerun, we’re sharing one of Richelle Thompson’s past posts that seems appropriate as many of us return to an overstuffed inbox after the long Independence Day weekend. 

I pride myself on an ability to multitask. But I also resent when the unexpected takes me away from my well-laid plans.

During breakfast, my dining companion talked about a willingness to be open to the work of the Spirit. A one-time parish secretary, she embraced a “theology of interruption.”

And I began to pray right there that I could practice this philosophy. See, I’m easily frustrated by interruption. When traffic jams up my schedule, I’m annoyed. When I’m hip-deep in crafting a difficult sentence, I don’t want to answer the phone or talk about expense reports or answer inventory questions. When I’m reading a great novel, I don’t want to hear how one child said something mean to the other.

Leave me alone. I have plans here. Can’t you see I’m busy?

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Oh beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years

On a downtown sidewalk in Plock, Poland, a small city about 70 miles from Warsaw, my husband and I were approached by a woman who motioned to us to stop. The year was 1992, just two years since Lech Walesa became Poland’s president following the country’s first semi-free elections in 1989. In November 1989, the Berlin Wall had fallen at the hands of Germans yearning for a united and free nation.

The woman in Plock eagerly asked, “Are you Americans?”

I simultaneously wondered, is it that obvious? And, Oh boy, where is this leading?

She gazed at us with an intensity in her eyes I will never forget, then simply stated, “Thank you for my freedom.”

Stunned, we stammered, “God bless you,” as she stepped around us to continue on her way. I think I also said, “You’re welcome,” as if I had anything to do with it. But, in retrospect, I suppose I did, as much as any American who pays taxes and votes.

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We thought we were going to have to cancel it, just like another local congregation did for theirs. This summer’s Vacation Bible School, held at St. George’s and sponsored by both Church of the Ascension, Lexington Park, and St. George’s, Valley Lee, was on the calendar for a while. Our congregation’s VBS coordinator and, all around, VBS cheerleader was getting stuff ready. The starter kit was purchased, and plans were being made. The roadside banner was ordered, and the website set-up.

But no one was registered. A few registrations started to come in in the past month or so, one after another. But just a few. A bunch of our congregation’s regular kids and families were busy that week, they said, or they couldn’t otherwise commit to attending. Some were out of town on vacation or work trips. Should we cancel, too, we wondered?

Instead of cancelling, we decided to expand it. I told the VBS coordinator that I, for one, was ‘all in,’ and even if we had just a handful of kids it’d be well worth it. I was looking forward to a great week of formation and fun – and looking forward to helping touch the lives of those whom we know already, and those whom (I hoped) we didn’t yet know. Instead of 9 am to noon, or during the evenings, as some congregations tend to do, we even expanded the whole day, starting at 9 am and running to 3 pm – and leaving time for the parents to drop off the kids beforehand and pick them up anytime after the close-up time. Lunch and snacks were provided, we told the parents.

Our local postmaster inspired this idea last summer, at least in my head. “Why don’t you guys have a day camp?” she asked me last year, admitting that she was looking for a safe and positive place to bring her two children during the days and, plus, she drives past our church every day on her way to the Valley Lee post office. My answer made sense to me, and it’s probably what a lot of church leadership says: “It’s too much work and we don’t have the capacity to pull off a day camp.” Like I said, that answer made sense to me and, to boot, it was technically correct. But it’s not the answer she was looking for, nor is it, I think, a satisfactory statement on the part of the Body of Christ.

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How or what is your congregation known for in your community? In my town, the two Episcopal Churches may be best known for their fundraisers.

Both St. Michael’s and St. Andrew’s Episcopal churches in Marblehead, Mass have long established fundraisers that have become part of the fabric of the community.

St. Michael’s annual lobster luncheon is on many people’s ‘must do’ list for the July 4th weekend, including mine. Beginning on Saturday and continuing through July 4th, the lobster luncheon fundraiser coincides with the Marblehead Festival of Arts, taking advantage of St. Michael’s location in the midst of the festivities. My friends Joe and Jill became engaged while eating lobster rolls on the St. Michael’s lawn and return each year to celebrate this milestone.

All proceeds support the Church’s community and world ministries and information about these ministries is visible to people purchasing lobster rolls, clam chowder, hot dogs, and watermelon. Tours of St. Michael’s historic building and an organ concert are typically offered during this event.

St. Michaels also provides space to the Festival for their printmaking and sculpture displays, ensuring a steady stream of visitors to the building and past their food tent.

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