Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

 

Bilingual liturgy can be difficult, especially in our word-driven Anglican tradition. It’s worth doing when there is a clear community-building purpose behind it. Articulate that purpose. Don’t expect everyone to like it. Introducing bilingual liturgy is a little like introducing a new vegetable to toddlers. It sometimes takes ten or twelve tries to get over the rejection reflex.

Over the course of fifteen years, I’ve done bilingual liturgy in four different churches, and multiple public contexts. Here is my opinionated take on ingredients for a holy bilingual celebration (in no particular order):

A bilingual celebrant, or team of celebrants that includes an excellent speaker of each language: Lay-clergy teams can work if the clergy person lets go of needing to be the star of the show. A monolingual celebrant with a translator (or worse yet, a monolingual celebrant who is sounding out words in a language he or she cannot speak) is a poor substitute for a fully empowered and fully bilingual team or individual. People need to hear someone speaking with authority and authenticity in their own language.

Great worship aids: As few separate pieces as environmentally possible. Everyone should have the same things in their hands. I recommend a printed word-for-word, side-by-side, liturgy, well aligned, in large type, with plenty of space. Page numbers! And yes, you should announce them. Avoid separate booklets or books by language, juggling multiple hymnals, as well as any aid that presumes people will know when it is their time to respond.

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I’m grateful for the feedback and engagement with my previous post: “Beyond Vestries,” February 25, 2015. I’d like to clarify some matters and, above all, point to some larger, more critical principles.

For starters, my one big hope is that the church starts having frank and honest and, yes, hard conversations. That’s why I said as much at the outset: “...if for no other reason than it might do that – actually spark a conversation and actually lead us to seriously re-consider our conventional working model – I’ll go along with it.”

I believe we’re in a moment in which everything needs to be put on the table. Unlike other churches, we’re actually in an enviable position to do precisely that: in our Episcopal/Anglican tradition, that is, the substance of the Christian faith and life is already set – we have the established catholic deposit contained in the Book of Common Prayer, after all, and the parameters provided for in the Canons. What’s left then, the only thing we’re really talking about re-examining are the conventional business model(s) of The Episcopal Church, particularly in its local lived communities. (There are obvious affinities between this conversation and the revisions which need to happen in diocesan and wider church structures, but I’m not going there. Not yet.) On the local level, the business model of most every congregation has changed over time and will, by definition, change. This, then, is the moment to put everything on the table. If not now, when?

In “Beyond Vestries,” I was describing a model, not necessarily the model. Certainly not the only one. It probably wouldn’t work in, say, a congregation that’s far removed from its closest neighbor parish. (Although it could work out ecumenically.) It also would be a difficult model to bring about in larger churches, especially those more resourced congregations and cathedrals. That’s not to say it couldn’t happen in even our largest congregations. It could, for sure, and it could perhaps lead to greater impact on the local community – not just the church institution itself. But the model, itself, is no universal cure all. The proposed solution I was offering was a model, not the only one.

What I was attempting to point toward was a series of principles which, if we could engage them critically and fully right now as the church – if these were really and truly on the table – would lead in short order to serious and significant renewal. Let me offer some general principles, albeit ideas which are probably not without controversy:

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So, she turned to me. What do you do at the church?   

Pardon me? I didn't quite understand her question.   

At my last church, the priest's wife was always there, organizing things and cleaning up. What do you do at the church?   

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to mention that at her last church, the priest's spouse was actually the full-time Christian formation director who had a master's degree in theology. Nor did I inquire whether she asks doctor's spouses what they do at the hospital or lawyer's spouses how they pitch in at the courthouse.   

So I smiled. I love our church. And my job is managing editor of a publishing house.   

We're working with Richard Schori, spouse of Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, on a lovely book about life with Katharine and ministry across The Episcopal Church. In an essay, he includes a section on clergy spouses. How we're often seen as appendages to our collared half. The assumptions about our role in the congregation (seen a lot, rarely heard).

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About two years ago I wrote a series of reflections for Forward Day by Day. For those who didn't grow up in the Episcopal Church, these are booklets of reflections on the daily scripture can be found in the narthex of nearly every Episcopal Church in the country. They now have a readership of about 500,000.

I received a bit of mail in response to my reflections. I'm embarrassed to say I did not respond to a lot of it, though I appreciated the response. I remember in particular one email. The writer had noticed that I began many of my reflections with the word "I". Why, she wanted to know, did I do this?

I just completed another set of reflections for the 2016 Forward Day by Day publication, and so I've been thinking again about this two-year old email exchange. This time around as I wrote my reflections I was conscious of my tendency to begin sentences with “I,” yet I couldn't seem to avoid it and eventually gave up trying.

And here's why: I like to tell stories, and most of the stories I have to tell are about myself. Especially in the context of short reflections about faith, I don't believe I can or should speak for others most of the time.

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Earlier this year I was invited to lead the Adult Forum at All Saints' Church in Worcester. I was asked to speak about welcoming a new rector into their midst - which they anticipate doing in the next few months. I decided to crowd-source the question, asking a half dozen or so clergy who have recently accepted new calls in our diocese to help me compile this list. This is what they said; I just organized and edited their responses. I am very grateful for their help and wisdom. Perhaps this can be helpful to others, and if you have responses to add, or other thoughts, I'd love to hear from you. Email me at [email protected] or, share your comments below.

Welcoming a New Rector
Some things to be done, and some to be left undone…

Entering a new system:

It’s great to invite the new rector (and their family) over to your house for dinner, but try to coordinate it so not everyone is doing it at once. Even better, try to do some events that include smaller groups of 6-8. If there is a staff, let the new rector know when everyone eats lunch and what’s expected: together, separate, going out regularly, etc. The etiquette of eating lunch together is sometimes hard to understand. More generally: convey expectations and be flexible; unspoken expectations are impossible to meet. Put together some kind of orientation binder or list that includes tips of lots of local things to do, pictures with names of active members or at least the vestry members, and some gift certificates to local restaurants, names of people who plow, plumbers, auto shop, dentist, doctor, RMV information, etc.  Remember that you have called a rector, but often there is a family in tow that is also trying to find their way in a new community. If the new rector has school-aged children, help them with schools ahead of time. If the new rector has a spouse and that person is looking for work, see what resources are available in the congregation to help with this. One person noted: “…it was very helpful for me that the executive committee committed to staying in their roles for my full first year. Having competent generous people around me has made my transition very smooth.” Give the new clergy time to become accustomed to this new parish. Have four or five different people take the new person on a tour of the city, go out to lunch, and tell them about their experiences and perceptions of the place. Having members of the search committee and other members regularly check in lets the priest know that s/he is not alone, and is much appreciated. Remember that being kind to the new rector is not a betrayal of the former rector.

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It was a rough first Sunday of Lent in church. Attendance was low, especially in one of our services. There were some explanations for the absences of our regulars (aren’t there always!). But the bottom line was that we had several new folks who were inspired by our Ash Wednesday outreach, and they came for the first time on a Sunday to find the church feeling awfully empty.

On Monday, I shared with my clergy support group that I felt like things were stuck at church, that we are just having the same problems over and over and making no progress. A colleague shared similar frustration in her context. When someone asked what was making us feel that way, we both realized it really came down to one rough Sunday. I had experienced poor attendance and frustration with the way we welcomed newcomers. My friend had had a hard meeting with church leaders. We had both let one Sunday color our perception of our entire ministry.

Maybe it’s just me and my friends, but I suspect we’re not alone in allowing ourselves to get swept onto the Sunday roller coaster. One good Sunday and we’re in the clouds. Church is growing! We are successful! One bad Sunday, and it’s all over. The church is dying. We are failures.

This roller coaster is not a clergy-only ride. A low Sunday or two, and my parishioners are glum as well. I cheerfully remind people that it’s the long haul that counts, but they often seem as unconvinced as I am.

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What is it that inspires us to move from intent to action? It’s often a very personal decision, one that may be difficult to put into words. In this Vestry Papers we share stories from four Episcopalians who understand, as shared in the Parable of the Yeast (Matthew 13:33; Luke 13:20-21), God’s kingdom begins in small way. Like yeast, these small actions become the catalyst for change, transforming all they encounter into something larger, something that nourishes and sustains….

Here are stories – of individuals, congregations, dioceses, and organizations – all making a real difference in their communities:

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Can Twitter reflect the health of our Church?

It may not be a far-fetched idea. NPR ran a story a few days ago about research that indicates a strong correlation between the number of angry tweets and the incidence of heart disease in a community. Incredibly the prevalence of angry tweets was a stronger indicator of heart disease than smoking or obesity.

Researchers don’t know the relationship yet. But it’s a striking observation. It got me to thinking: I wonder if the same correlation might exist in our (capital C) Church—and churches.

Twitter and other social media tools offer a quick, easy, and relatively anonymous outlet for frustrations or anger. The things you used to mutter under your breath? In 140-characters or less, you can send them out to the world. Venting done. Instead of kvetching person-to-person, folks do it online, inviting others to get on the moan-and-grown bandwagon. Misery loves company.

I’m certainly not innocent of occasional snark, online and in-person. I’ve complained on Facebook and perhaps even used this blog to air grievances. But the study cited by NPR gives me pause. What if our snarky side comments, our complaints, and frustrations contribute to failing health? Maybe they’re symptoms of an ill system but perhaps they’re also perpetuating it.

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Top 5 answers to the question: Does your church have a mission statement? 

5. Yes. We post it in our bulletin and affirm or revise it in our annual Vestry retreat. 4. Yes. Well, maybe. No, I don’t think we do. 3. We created one a couple of priests ago, but it isn’t really relevant today. 2. No. Should we? 1. Yes. But please don’t ask me what it is because I can’t ever remember it. As a strategic planning facilitator, I suppose I should care deeply whether a congregation has articulated its own, unique statement of mission. Frankly, I don’t. 

Statements of Mission are wonderful, strategic tools, when carefully crafted and effectively used. They assist leaders in appropriately allocating resources to accomplish what the mission says they do. Therefore, these statements also help donors assess whether an organization, including a congregation, really puts its treasure where its heart is. 

A statement of mission is part of your congregation’s identity. It describes what you are called to do. This is vitally important to consider, to pray over, to use in decision-making. If your church has created a mission statement after deep reflection on your ministry strengths or based on a call to service, great! 

If you have not, my assertion is, don’t sweat it. The really important exercise is the aforementioned deep reflection. Rather than word-smithing the right mission statement, take time to consider how well your congregation is following ample direction offered in God’s Word. There’s the Great Commission, Matthew 28: 18-20:

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Okay, so my last post about paid and unpaid, professional and amateur Christians sparked some discussion. I need to be clear about something from the beginning. I am not a cynic. I know that it is tough to discern tone from prose, but am not jaded, fed up, or otherwise done with the Church. In fact, I love the movement that Jesus started. I am spiritually fed by what people would consider “typical” church worship. As we have been clear from the beginning, Southside Abbey is not a move away from anything, but rather a branch of the same limb.

The reality of the numbers is stark. What are the two largest expenses facing every Episcopal church in the land? Property and Personnel. Southside Abbey is a model of another way to be church without a building. Notice I said “a” model, not “the” model. We are providing one solution to the problem of the expense of a building.

Now what about that other expense? Can't you just feel the collective sphincter tightening at the very mention of this issue? In the Episcopal Church, we like our priests. We like to have someone up there we can point to as the expert on God, someone who will interact – on our behalf – with those we don't want to see or know.

Let me break it down in our context. The Diocese of East Tennessee's minimum compensation package for full time employment is $47,000. Church Pension adds eighteen percent, or $8,460. Include (as we must for full time work) health insurance to the tune of $11,148 for the cheapest plan for a couple. Including the life and disability insurance offered by our diocese adds another $1,036. That makes a total of $67,644. If we are to take the Church Pension formula, the math is similarly inflated. Their minimum compensation for full time work is $18,500, which costs $34,014. Now that you know the context, let me put it in perspective.

Southside Abbey's budget for 2014 was $33,811. For that amount we:

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This past weekend a very close friend of mine got married. I was a groomsman (there were two grooms, in this case, and my wife was a groomswoman), so I wanted to give him a toast.

I started thinking about the toast more than a week before the wedding. I made notes in a notebook and in my phone and wrote down stories and asked for advice. I was fretting about it for days.

Some part of me wanted to impress everyone. I wanted to demonstrate that I was funny and clever and an excellent writer. I was having a lot of trouble figuring out what to say.

That is, until I remembered that this wasn't about me. This was about my friend and his wedding and saying whatever reminded him that he was loved and supported in his marriage and that we were grateful to have him and his husband in our lives.

This lesson—that it's not about me—is a useful one in ministry and in many aspects of community life. In most things we do in our churches, the goal is to love and minister to others. It's not to demonstrate how good or clever or right we are.

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A friend recently quipped “I don’t believe vestries are needed for the church today.” He said it as a hyperbole, something to spark conversation, and if for no other reason than it might do that – actually spark a conversation and actually lead us to seriously re-consider our conventional working model – I’ll go along with it. If you’d like a more palatable post, though, let me say that vestries, alone, are no longer needed for the church today.

The vestry is a great idea of the late-18th century. It was more formally instituted by the mid-19th century, and in fact it wasn’t until the early years of the 20th century that a denomination wide church canon was established to clarify matters. It’s Title I, Canon 14; Sections 1 & 2:

"Section 1. In every Parish of this Church the number, mode of selection, and term of office of Wardens and Members of the Vestry, with the qualifications of voters, shall be such as the State or Diocesan law may permit or require, and the Wardens and Members of the Vestry selected under such law shall hold office until their successors are selected and have qualified." "Section 2. Except as provided by the law of the State or of the Diocese, the Vestry shall be agents and legal representatives of the Parish in all matters concerning its corporate property and the relations of the Parish to its Clergy."

We’ve not only created but, over these many years, we’ve honed and perfected a brilliant late-18th century model of church. It really is a stunning, absolutely creative solution to the problems people faced nearly 250 years ago. Bravo! The problem, however, is that it is now the 21st century.

Not only is the vestry a great idea but also even today, it remains a necessary instrument. It is as important now as it was when suddenly the ‘Episcopal’ churches in the American colonies found themselves with land and property but no clear idea who owned it or how to delineate who oversees the “corporate property” of the parish as well as the ways in which “the relations of the parish to its clergy” shall be managed. What that means in reality, today, is that the vestry of any given parish is an essential and a really great buildings and grounds / cemetery / personnel / liability committee which has ultimate fiduciary responsibility.

But the system of the Church of England, from which this creative solution emerged, did not merely understand the parish as being reduced – or reducible – to its “corporate property” nor simply to “the relations of the parish to its clergy.” Rather, the parish, as such, was understood holistically. It was seen as an expansive and varied place set in a particular time, an entire geographic area which, by definition, necessitated and involved all of its inhabitants whether or not they frequented the building(s) called ‘church’; whether or not they availed themselves of the services of the person called ‘clergy’; whether for that matter they professed an outright belief in Jesus Christ as their Lord. The parish, as such, was much more than what our American colonial forebears imagined when they created the managerial tool called ‘vestry.’ They gave us a good start, and it was an essential move on their part.

Now, however, it’s time for us to create new instruments and new organizations.

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I walk to church from my home, about a mile and a half away, a couple of times a week. Lately I've started using a new route, which led to the discovery of a small mystery.

Every morning, hundreds of people line up on the sidewalk of a side street just south of the main thoroughfare of Wilshire Boulevard. Literally hundreds, stretching all the way down the block. The line leads toward a nondescript large office building.

I first noticed the people around Christmas. I imagined a food or toy giveaway, of which there are quite a few at that time of year. But this morning, deep into January, there they all were.

I usually walk on the other side of the street. It's shadier, and there are too many people in the line to pass easily.

Today, something made me cross the street. I waded awkwardly, upstream through the crowd. Up close, I could see that most of them were clutching folders or envelopes full of paperwork. I made my way toward the back of the line, gathering my courage. I'm an introvert, after all, shy with strangers and crowds. Finally, I asked a group of women what one waited for in this place.

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As I mentioned in my last post, Southside Abbey's funding is up. More accurately, my funding is up with the Episcopal Diocese of East Tennessee in August. It has really been on my mind of late that I am confusing these two issues. Nothing about the funding of Southside Abbey's ministry is jeopardy. The Holy Spirit doesn't call us to ministries without providing for them. No, the only change will be in my compensation.

If I think back to three years ago, I was perfectly willing to do this ministry for free as this was as clear a call as I had ever heard. It's fascinating to me just how quickly I got comfortable with the notion of full-time employment once it was offered through the diocese.

Without going too far down the rabbit trail, I am concerned about the two-tiered system of those who follow Jesus. There are “professional” Christians and “amateur” Christians. Before I spark a firestorm with this distinction, remember that Olympians are considered “amateur.”

This two-tiered system is less about lay and ordained as it is about paid and unpaid, but don't think that ordination isn't often a deciding factor in who is on what side of that line. I really have to face the fact that I am a professional Christian. I get paid to do all of the great and wonderful things to which Jesus is calling me everyday. Would I do the same if I didn't get paid? Does the pay merely free me up to do that which all of us should be doing anyway? What a blessing, right? Before the reader jumps up in arms over “the laborer deserves to be paid”-type cherry-picked bible verses, hear me out.

Recently, clergy from our portion of the Diocese of East Tennessee gathered for conversation, led by our bishop, George Young. When we were asked to share our anxieties, I spoke up. I do not think that the model of professional Christians is either sustainable or, truth be told, very biblical. Routinely the best Followers of Jesus I know are those who don't get paid for it. This shut the conversation down. It was too much for those who had dedicated their lives to this system. No more fears were shared and the conversation turned pretty pat-on-the-back-ish after that.

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St. Aidan's Episcopal Church recently completed a capital campaign for debt retirement. Pastor Anna Doherty describes some of the key lessons the community learned from their experience:

We chose the theme "Crossing from Debt to Mission" because we wanted to be about more than simply pouring our financial resources into a mortgage on our building. We wanted to use our resources, the gifts God has given us, including our building, for mission, not for mortgage. Following our feasibility study, we expected to raise approximately $136,000 for debt retirement. We actually needed $164,000 to completely retire our debt, so we held that out to the congregation as a challenge goal. By the end of our campaign we raised $195,000, far exceeding both our initial goal and our challenge goal! This capital campaign has been an incredibly rewarding experience for the church leadership and the congregation, and it has energized and mobilized St. Aidan's for mission.

Here is what we've learned from our experience, and what we would like to share with other congregations contemplating a capital campaign.

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Vestries: Five Things for February

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This month we’re featuring 5 ways to help your newly forming vestry get off to a strong start, the 5th being a resource to aid in developing year-round stewardship in your congregation.

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ECF Vital Practices recently reposted on its Facebook page a list of signs of healthy church. It was a fine list for the most part, and like most such lists, it emphasized empowering people to identify and use their spiritual gifts and talents.

I wonder a bit about our rush to place the gifted in ministry, to find the right person for the right post so that all will run smoothly. We swim in the currents of a culture that treasures efficiency and competence. We love a well-run organization and we search for busy, competent people with track records for getting the things done.

I worry that we muddle competence and giftedness, and sometimes leave faith out in the cold all together. A well-run church may or not be faithful. It may or may not be steeped in love, forgiveness, and humility. It may or may not witness to a resurrection that comes out of the abject failure of a humiliating death.

Competence may get in the way of remembering that we all depend on God, and that God's ability to create something from nothing depends not at all on our efficiency.

Give me a bumbling effort drenched in prayer any day over a well-oiled operation with no room for incompetence, or the incompetent.

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Neither rain nor sleet, neither blizzards nor other weather foes will keep a good church down.

With a hat tip to the postal service, church leaders across the Northeast (and now Midwest) are finding ways to gather, despite mountains of snow and bone-chilling temperatures.

At a church in New Haven, Connecticut, the congregation was invited to worship via Facebook.

The priest, Alex Dyer, told Episcopal News Service: “A large part of incarnational ministry is meeting people where they are, and in a New England blizzard that means they are at home. Asking people to put themselves at risk just so they can meet in the ‘correct’ building just doesn’t seem to make sense… Right now, these services are the exception and not the norm,” Dyer said.

“They could never truly replace the real experience of communal live worship, just like webcasts from other churches are not quite the same. Many people will look at the flaws, but I challenge people to let down their guards and look at how it could be useful. Social media is a tool and there are some instances where this tool is very effective.” 

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When I was in the sixth grade or so, I read through the entire Bible chapter by chapter. I especially remember reading the Gospels and finding Matthew, Mark, and Luke difficult. In those Gospels, Jesus was a little more enigmatic, a little harder to grasp. I loved John, however. John confirmed my beliefs and comforted me.

Now, a few decades later, I am writing a series of reflections for Forward Movement, which requires me to read many passages from the Gospel of John again. I’ve found the task more difficult than I expected. I miss the elliptical storytelling and the ambiguity of Mark and Matthew and Luke. John’s Jesus challenges me. His pronouncements about heaven and the bread of life now trouble me more than they comfort me. I can’t say that I’m enjoying it all that much.

The Scriptures, as we all know, contain a multitude of voices and surprises. Not only are the lessons found in the Bible varied, but what we take from them will change as we change. Something that once reassured us can later shake our understanding.

In this way, my relationship with God, with Scripture, and with Jesus is like any other relationship: It changes over time.

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I have to be honest, I agonized about the apostrophe in the title of this post for much longer than I should have. I share this with you to show just how much I still have to learn about stewardship (particularly stewardship of time). Take this post with a larger-than-usual grain of salt.

As I have been aware since our beginning nearly two-and-a-half years ago, diocesan-funded compensation for a full-time priest at Southside Abbey is up in August. Our leadership council has seen this as an opportunity to step up. Or, as our wonderfully super warden, Kim Smith (who also unicycles and can often be found in caves) put it, “it's time to put on our 'big-girl' panties!”

Before we head to the Changes book for a prayer about the transition to grown-up underwear, I guess some background is in order. At Southside Abbey we make our budget a little bit differently (of course). We begin with a few questions:

What do we want to do again?  What is the Holy Spirit already doing around us that we can jump on? What are we being called to do that is new?

As I understanding it, this is a bit different than what some parishes do: wait until the pledges come in and decide what gets funded.

Our process? We asked the leadership council (and others in leadership roles, as all of our council meetings are open) to answer these questions. This led to modules named for different colors as there was less hierarchy than using number or letters. The group then prioritized the modules and the budget is the result. This meant that some things did not make the budget, but they are in our hearts and on our minds in case the Holy Spirit drops some “opportunity” in our lap.

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