Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

Our by-laws stipulate that one of the officers of the vestry is a person called ‘registrar.’ This person records minutes of vestry meetings and makes them available to the group. “[S]hall keep or cause to be kept true and accurate minutes of all meetings. …Copies of vestry minutes shall be made available to each member prior to the next regularly scheduled meeting.” The duties of the registrar as found in our by-laws are just as straightforward: “The registrar shall record the minutes of all vestry meetings and all-parish meetings in a suitable minute book, which shall be maintained in the church office.”

Our parochial report asks us every year to provide the name of the clerk of the vestry, which we assume means our registrar. And our diocese, meanwhile, asks us every year to update our list of parish officers, and specifically they ask us to provide them the name of the secretary of our vestry.

Registrar? Clerk? Secretary?

All of these titles are talking about (roughly) the same job. They’re referring to the person who records and, as needed, revises minutes of vestry meetings and, from time to time, meetings of the parish. I get it, and so do you. I wouldn’t waste your time with a blog post about different names for the same basic job. I promise.

The question I want to leave here for the church is whether we might want to look at enhancing, expanding or making more useful the job of registrar / clerk / secretary?

The fact is that, decades ago, the clerk or secretary or registrar was not only the minute-taker but also the primary record keeper and a true officer of the congregation. The registrar signed cemetery deeds, as, in our case, she still does. The registrar/clerk probably kept and updated the parish register, probably keeping it at his or her own home, recording marriages and baptisms and various other services.

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In the May Vital Practices Digest, we offer 5 resources for clergy transition in congregations, with the 5th a resource to help in developing year-round stewardship in your congregation.

Please share this digest with others in your church and invite them to subscribe to ECF Vital Practices to receive Vestry Papers and the Vital Practices Digest in their inbox.

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The conversation about building a parking lot began before I was born. And while I’m not ready for the pasture, I, sadly, no longer qualify as spring chicken.

Welcome to church time, which runs apace with glaciers.

I wonder if you, like us, have a project that’s been brewing for years but can’t seem to move from idea to action. Here’s how we pushed ahead with building a parking lot after years of the idea languishing on a pending list.

First, the rector was clear that the decision lives with the vestry, which would take recommendations from the building committee but would own the final decision and implementation. There’s truth to the adage of too many cooks in the kitchen. Plus, the vestry is comprised of the church’s elected representatives bound as stewards for the health of a congregation, including its buildings and finances.

Second, the rector and the vestry looked closely at the need. What would happen if nothing happened, if no parking lot was constructed? This church has zero off-street parking. Not even one spot. No reserved handicapped spots or places for visitors. It’s catch-as-catch-can on Sunday mornings, especially as the congregation has grown. Try finding a spot on a busy Sunday (we had nearly 400 on Easter) in a residential area. Don’t wear heels because you’ll be walking several blocks. Fortunately, the owners of a nearby funeral home attend the church, and they open their parking lot to members on Sundays. That’s a huge gift, but it’s inside knowledge—only those who attend the church already know they can park there. It’s not helpful for first-time visitors, and it’s too far for handicapped parking and for some of our aging members.

The need, the rector and vestry decided, was clear.

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Imagine yourself in these scenarios: It’s about 15 minutes before your Sunday morning service and an acolyte hasn’t shown up. What do you do? The end of the year is nearing and there’s a small budget shortfall. What’s the next step? You asked someone to write an article for the newsletter and they’ve flaked out. Who do you call?

Many church leaders probably can answer these questions without too much trouble. The Church, with our congregations relying on volunteers and success being measured not just by revenue but by intangible things like spiritual growth and health, is an unpredictable organization. It requires flexibility from its leaders.

In researching for his book about productivity, Smarter Faster Better, Charles Duhigg found that the best decision makers tend to envision possible scenarios. “By pushing yourself to imagine various possibilities—some of which might be contradictory—you’re better equipped to make wise choices.”

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Here’s what Sunday reality looks like on the ground where I am: increasingly unpredictable.

Our English services -- representing the legacy congregation of our historic parish -- are getting smaller by the year. There are fewer people in the universe of church attenders. The people who do attend are increasingly erratic in their habits. Families with kids balance other Sunday commitments and general exhaustion. Elder members who were once the every-Sunday core now experience health and transportation challenges. Empty nesters do triathlons and travel and visit their grandkids.

Our Spanish services -- representing most of our newer neighborhood members -- are growing. But they too are erratic. People are testing the waters. A handful were regulars at other churches and switched to ours. Some of them are still practicing dual citizenship. Most were not church regulars, and they are still figuring out what a Sunday worship discipline would mean: Every week? Every other? Once a month? Many have irregular work schedules in the 24-7 service economy.

Like most Episcopal churches, our worship traditions were built around predictability. We still do things as if we know, roughly, who’s going to be there on any given Sunday: how many of them there will be, what songs they will know, what time they will arrive, how many of them will stay for coffee hour.

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One of the most oft-cited reasons for hiring a campaign consultant is the desire of a parish campaign team to test the feasibility of raising the dollars needed for the projects being proposed. It’s a great reason! One model offers the answers to five key questions during the feasibility phase of a campaign:

1. Does the community understand the need for the campaign?
2. Do they agree with it?
3. Will they work to support it?
4. Will they contribute financially?
5. If so, how much?

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I had asked my 14-year-old if she wanted to stay home (or go out with friends) on Saturday night, while her dad and I entertained the bishop and his wife. On the next day, she would be among a fantastic group of fifteen teens to be confirmed into The Episcopal Church. I had (wrongfully) assumed she would rather hang out with friends, binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy, or Snapchat.

But she made dinner with the bishop and his wife a priority because over the past decade, they had told her time and again, through word and example, that she mattered. True, I worked with this bishop on diocesan staff, and my husband was a priest in the diocese for many years. But the bishop and his wife were intentional about valuing our whole family—children too. When they traveled to Russia on a mission trip, they bought small dolls to give to the children for Christmas. When they made their way to the Dominican Republic, they found a perfect keepsake for the children of diocesan staff members.

When they saw Madeline and our son, Griffin, they talked with them, asked them questions, and remembered things about their lives. How is your horse? What are you painting? Do you still like ice skating?

They treated our children as important members of the Body of Christ, and so when it came to dinner with these longtime friends, the children wanted to be there too.

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“We see God in you!” proclaim the people of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Lebanon, a small city in rural central Indiana. This “people of prayer uniting in one Spirit” live the Gospel through many ministries rooted in heritage, such as a community garden and bee hives, and even the ancient tradition of the labyrinth.

But something modern is buzzing here too. It’s posted on the door leading into the sanctuary: a QR Code. Whatever gave them that idea?

Vicar Christopher R. Beasley says it really isn’t all that revolutionary. QR codes are seen everywhere these days, conveniently providing additional information to anyone with a smart phone or tablet. For instance, museums post QR codes loaded with facts about exhibits.

So in 2014, Fr. Christopher placed at St. Peter’s door a QR Code linking to the bulletin for the day. People can scan the code as they enter to download the entire service, including liturgy and hymns. He says the reaction has been positive as people see that technology can be seamlessly integrated into worship.

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Most schools take great care in how they articulate their educational philosophy and program. Yet many overlook the same when it comes to Episcopal identity. In our experience here at NAES, schools that are clear and forthright about their Episcopal identity thrive because they attract parents, students, faculty, and staff who become deeply committed to the school in its fullest expression. For these schools, their Episcopal identity distinguishes them from other educational options, supports the recruitment of “mission consistent” families, and links the school’s value directly to its core values as an Episcopal school.

Here are six strategies that Episcopal schools of all kinds can use to develop honest, clear and direct ways to communicate what the “E” means at their school.

Name it and claim it.

“Episcopal identity” varies greatly from school-to-school based on the school’s history, traditions, geographical location, liturgical style, and socio-religious context. Regardless of these differences, however, every Episcopal school has both visible symbols and cultural norms that embody its Episcopal identity. Naming and claiming these in ways that the entire community can understand, articulate, and celebrate is perhaps the first and most important “marketing tool” for any Episcopal school.   

Current families, faculty members, students, and alumni who speak with passion about the school out of personal experience and link their experiences to its Episcopal character are our first and best ambassadors. Ideally, all of the adults in the school community understand what makes the school Episcopal, not simply the chaplain, head of school, or admissions staff. In elementary, middle, and secondary schools, students should be able to name particular values, qualities, or practices that embody the school’s Episcopal mission and character.

Develop clear and consistent language.

“Naming and claiming” what makes our school distinctively an Episcopal school, however, can be challenging. But it is possible!   

St. James School in Philadelphia focuses school culture around agape. Trinity Episcopal School in New Orleans uses a tag line, “Challenging the Intellect, Nourishing the Spirit, Celebrating Community.” Palmer Trinity School in Palmetto Bay, Florida has a set of core values. Oregon Episcopal School, St. George Episcopal School in San Antonio, and The Bishop’s School in California have developed lengthier statements about what it means to be an Episcopal school. St. Anne’s School in Annapolis answers the question, “Why choose an Episcopal school?   

These are just a few examples of ways schools articulate directly what it means for them to be an Episcopal school.

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Shortly after arriving at St. George’s, nearly nine years ago, I had lunch with the extended supply priest who preceded me. “One thing I really worked hard on while I was serving there,” she said that afternoon, “was to confront and, I think, end ‘parking lot’ conversations.” Even though her official title wasn’t interim or even priest-in-charge, she obviously drew on her extensive training in interim ministry. In so many ways I’m glad she did.

I hadn’t heard about ‘parking lot’ conversations before arriving here. I must’ve said as much to my predecessor at lunch that day. Perhaps, I thought, that was because I had previously come from a much larger, urban congregation. Folks in larger congregations, especially city churches, I thought, don’t have time to chitchat about mundane things. They certainly don’t have time to hang around the parking lot after meetings. Looking back, however, I think my naïveté had mostly to do with the fact that my previous call was curate – you know, the quaint and easily beloved young priest who shows up to the congregation and accepts all the old-timer’s accolades and praise. Maybe that’s not in the general job description of curate but, as it turns out, it was very much in mine. Looking back now, I know exactly the ones who were hosting those ‘parking lot’ conversations – they just weren’t in the parking lot; they were those beloved long-timer’s, the Thursday morning group who, ostensibly were there to fold bulletins but who really loved to sit with me – and curates before me, as it turns out – and pick my brain and get some good gossip.

To be perfectly honest, I look back on those Thursday morning gab sessions with fondness and joy. I learned a great deal – that proper gentlemen always carry a handkerchief in their pocket being one of them – and I treasured those moments and love those women and men, many of whom are moving on to greater life. And to be even more honest, my predecessor didn’t end the parking lot conversations here. I’m glad she raised the issue and I’m glad she pointed it out to me, but they’ve never really stopped.

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Since early 2011, ECF Vital Practices has utilized reader surveys. Your responses guide us as we identify ideas for Vestry Papers themes and articles. Over the past two years we’ve watched two topics emerge as areas many of you are looking for help in: change and clergy transition.

Our articles this month focus on transitions and change, with resources to help you navigate the changes your congregation may be facing today or in the future. They include: 

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The dinner conversation was light and fun, sharing jokes and stories of work, until my dad turned to me.

“Richelle, you’re smart in so many ways, but you’re also naïve when it comes to politics.”

I braced myself. This wasn’t my first rodeo with my ultra-conservative father. I let him unspool for a few minutes while my mind wandered. Good food at the restaurant. Interesting décor. I need to do a load of laundry when I get home and study spelling words with my son. I circled my attention back for a brief check in.

The loop continued. I’ve heard it before. He just doesn’t understand how someone who cares for her family, who wants the best for her children, could support liberal policies and Democratic candidates. At a break in his words, I interrupted.

“So I’m really excited about our vacation this summer…” I could tell he wanted more persuasion time, but he gamely moved into safe conversation territory, and we enjoyed the rest of our evening.

I steamed a bit on the way home. How can he respect me in my vocations as daughter, mother, writer, wife, volunteer, but be so dismissive of my political opinions? Does he think that I embrace a liberal stance with whimsy when I’m decidedly independent and assertive in other areas of my life? Ugh. Grrr. Sizzle. And other onomatopoeia words that express frustration.

And yet, if I’m honest, I perform some of the same calculations as I scroll through my social media channels. I divide folks into us and them based on the memes they post, the political ads they share. Just this morning, I mentally moved a college friend from the ‘us’ to ‘them’ column when I saw she went to a Trump rally. Before I could catch myself, I thought, “She’s smarter than that. She’s naïve when it comes to politics.”

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“Episcopalians: we’re not God’s frozen people. We’re God’s introverted people.”

This was said by Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, perhaps one of the minority of extroverted Episcopalians, but it nonetheless rang true.

I don’t know that Episcopalians are actually more introverted than your average population, but I think that the culture of the Episcopal Church is introverted, focused less on creating high energy church services or on charismatic individuals and more on quiet faith cultivated in liturgy and community.

I heard Bishop Curry say these words at the Episcopal Communicators conference a few weeks ago. I am certainly one of those Episcopal introverts and yet I always enjoy this conference. Although the many hours spent with other people (not to mention the jet lag) left me somewhat exhausted by the end of the conference, I was also energized by the people I met and the shared sense of mission.

Regardless of whether we’re actually a church populated by introverts, I think the Episcopal Church and its members require a common mission as well as a culture that fosters connection and a mutual support in order to thrive.

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Remember Generation X? 

If you Google us, here’s what you may get as the first response:

Gen·er·a·tion X
noun
1. The generation born after that of the baby boomers (roughly from the early 1960s to mid 1970s), often perceived to be disaffected and directionless.

For a hot minute, we were all the rage. People were getting a little tired of the Baby Boomers, and their monstrously large generation of offspring had not yet come of age. Then we kind of...disappeared.

I heard that the millennials had recently (2015) become the largest generation in the US workforce. I went to Google to find out when they had surpassed us. Turns out it was the Baby Boomers they surpassed. Gen X’s great moment in the workforce sun was a distant second place.

I was born at the height of the baby bust, right smack in the middle of Gen X. We claim President Obama as our most famous member. He may have been born right at the tail end of the Baby Boom by some definitions, but that “Bucket List” speech? Only a true Gen-Xer would have come up with that (or thought it was that funny!).

For all our smallness, Gen X is moving into our prime leadership years in the church, which as always is slightly behind the rest of the world. A seminary friend commented on the proximity of our 50th birthdays, just five years off in my case. She said, “I guess there is very little we can say we aren't old or experienced enough for anymore.”

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There’s no "i" in team.

But I sort of expected there was one in leader. As I have risen in my career and in leadership positions at my church, I confess that there has been a lot of “i” in my expression as leader. All of those personality inventories (even the fake Facebook ones) reveal that I value praise and reward for a job well done. That I’m motivated, in part, by the possibility of atta girls. And to be honest, I didn’t really need a personality inventory to know that. I’m an oldest child who spent years as an earnest people pleaser, and though I have mellowed, some of those traits are deeply (genetically?) engrained.

But wisdom (coupled with hard-learned lessons and frankly, age) is helping me to re-evaluate the characteristics of a true leader. For me, perhaps the biggest shift is truly embracing the value of the team. In my work with Forward Movement and in my participation at my church, I increasingly experience the strength and promise of teamwork. Our congregation hosts an annual fundraiser, and I volunteered again to head up the raffle component. But a big part of the work fell when I was traveling, so I had to count on the team. And they were amazing! I needn’t have worried, and although I felt badly for not being able to participate while I was away, the team did a yeoman’s job of preparing the raffle items. They were a model of the promise and possibility of teamwork.

The shift from I to we has been subtle but some signs are more obvious than others. This spring, I prepared the editorial report for the board, and instead of signing my name as I had in past years, I put the entire team. It just felt like the right thing to do. The work we complete together is a true composite of the gifts from each team member.

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The far corner of northwest Indiana is a collection of cities and towns at the edge of greater Chicago. Through decades of multiplying suburban communities, Episcopal parishes were established throughout this region. As steel mills closed in a changing economy, many congregations wondered, and still wonder, how long they can sustain their ministries.

In 2010, three such parishes found themselves about to be without rectors due to one priest retiring and two being called to other churches. Bishop of Northern Indiana Edward S. Little invited the congregations into “dialogue and discernment” about their future since none of the churches was likely capable of affording its own priest.

“After much discussion and numerous meetings, a new vision began to emerge: one church in three locations. This is not a merging or yoking of parishes, this is a new way in our times of being Church. This vision is very much like the early Church that we hear about in the Acts of the Apostles and Paul's Letters. Each town may have had several house Churches but together they formed one Church in various locations.” - From www.calumetepiscopal.org 

The “one church in three locations” became the Calumet Episcopal Ministry Partnership (CEMP). Later, a fourth congregation joined the partnership, so it now includes St. Barnabas in Gary, St. Paul in Munster, St. Timothy’s in Griffith, and St. Christopher’s in Crown Point.

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Blanche Dubois might always depend on the kindness of strangers, but I am inspired by their faithfulness.

In an airport lounge, I took a seat next to an older couple. The man wore a clergy collar, so I asked if he was Episcopalian. For the next half hour, we talked about vocation. He started the conversation with a quote from Mark Twain: The two most important days in your life are the day you’re born – and the day you discover why you were born. For him, the second day was when he decided he had a call to the priesthood.

Ordained for more than sixty years, he told me about his ministry with the Cherokees and his father's experience of being mentored by David Oakerhater, a saint on the Episcopal calendar. Oakerhater’s legacy – and that of Harriet Bedell, another Episcopal saint, propelled him to compassion and commitment. Since retirement, he said he has served in more than fifty congregations, filling in between priests or serving in small congregations. He shared about receiving a call for a two-month gig at a Mandarin congregation on the West Coast. It turned into six years of service, and even though the church no longer meets, he is that community’s pastor, baptizing, marrying, and burying his flock.

Let me show you some of them, he said. And he reached into his suit jacket. I expected a cell phone (How else do we share pictures today), but he pulled out a stack of photographs held together with a paper clip. Here was a wedding. A baptism. A young Asian boy looking into the eyes of this elderly Caucasian man. That, he said, is my godson.

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At St. George’s, we have a worship committee. Actually, it’s in our by-laws, so I suppose it’s a capital ‘W’ – Worship Committee. Perhaps that’s not so strange, considering all the various things we’ve turned into committees over these many years – we have been very busy perfecting the fool-proof institution called church.

For the most part, however, it’s a committee that never meets, at least not consistently with an eye toward some goal or focus. They’ve met sporadically, here and there, and I’ve even called for meetings in the past when I’ve had something I needed to wonder about, aloud. While we were going through the early stages of transition in our music ministry, I asked the vestry to endorse a broadly representative group I helped assembled. Together with them, we came up with the name ‘Music & Arts Exploratory Group,’ intentionally avoiding the word ‘committee’ because a ‘group’, as such, can do its work well and with intentionality and then, in its own time, disband organically.

If for nothing else, I’m troubled by having something encoded in our by-laws, something established in our (allegedly) common self-understanding that we simply don’t do. Why have a worship committee at all?

To show my true colors, here, it’s my view that the Canons of the Episcopal Church don’t envision anything resembling worship committees. Worship is the very lifeblood of who we are as Christian people and, more so, the church is careful in passing along the deposit of faith. Local variants always exist, of course, and always have existed, but the Canons don’t seem to grant equal measure to those particular expressions. To that end, the Canons are expressly clear about who has oversight of worship and music: in music, it’s the “Member of the Clergy” (who “shall seek assistance from persons skilled in music”), Canon II.5*; for worship life, in general, it’s “Rectors and Priests-in-Charge, …subject to the Rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer,” Canon III.9.6(a)(1)** In order to uphold what we believe is distinct and life-giving about the mission of the Body of Christ, namely that we exist, first, to offer “our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving” to God, there must be sound doctrine and, on that basis, clearly articulated practices of worship. This is not a matter for the local congregation; this is the mission of the church universal.

That said, however, (and before I get accused of sounding like my interest is in preserving the hierarchy!) I believe that the church is encouraging all of us to get quickly beyond questions of power and decision making authority and, instead, focus on what we should be doing on the local level, in each of our congregations and communities of faith. If we can’t, ultimately, re-write Eucharistic prayers and come up with our own orders of worship, we should be regularly reflecting upon how and in what ways our worship life makes us more engaged, more thoughtful, more justice-oriented, more receptive, more curious women and men; more like disciples of Jesus, and less like curators of this precious institution. Together in our congregations and communities of faith we should be digging more deeply into our walk with Jesus, and how we are trying and succeeding and, sometimes, trying and failing to be disciples of Jesus. Removing the question of who decides what about worship frees us up to do this vastly more important work.

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In the April Vital Practices Digest, we offer 5 resources churches can use to start or continue to develop a thriving church garden ministry, with the 5th a resource to help develop 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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I've spent quite a bit of time looking for the perfect to-do app – something I can download onto my Smartphone to help me keep track of everything I have to do. I want it to be simple and easy to use, but also to have all the intricate and advanced features I imagine will make me more productive. Occasionally I do find an app that has all the features I want, but then it turns out to be so complicated to decipher and difficult to use that I give up on it. Or, I come across an app that is easy and intuitive, but it lacks those important functions that I imagine I must have. It turns out the perfect “to-do list” app does not exist.

I've worked in a few churches and communities that have spent a lot of time looking for the perfect software to manage their database or help community members stay in touch. Many end up using complicated and difficult-to-use software because it has all the features the leadership thinks it needs. Maybe the software tracks donations and contact information and you can also pay the bills with it, but it's a nightmare to use.

A few weeks ago I was at a meeting where Kyle Oliver, Digital Missioner for the Center of the Ministry of Teaching, talked about the tension many communities feel between finding the perfect platform or application for a community and the fact that no one really wants to learn to use new software, or another login to remember. We sometimes imagine that there are technical solutions to our problems, when really the solution is managing personnel or time, or working on the norms of our community. Because ultimately there is no to-do list app that will force me to get my work done, no program that will keep community conflict from arising.

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