Church Planting Central

With high hopes for the future of the Diocese of Washington!

My address to the Clergy of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington

The parable of the crude little life-saving station, known to few even after 57 years of circulation, is a remarkably adept appraisal of the tendency of faith communities to turn insular and artificial. The reasons I find it so appealing (as the Episcopal Church Center’s Officer for Church Planting and Ministry Redevelopment) are as follows:

 

1.)    It was written by one of our own, the past president of the House of Deputies to General Convention.

2.)    It uses “parable” format to explore what is, as well as what might be.

3.)    It skillfully critiques the tendency of religious communities to move toward a “Club” mentality.

4.)    It asks us to evaluate the “real time” contribution of faith communities by the actual difference they make in the lives of their surrounding community.

 

In the parable, there is a moment when what was a life-saving station turns into a Club. From there forward, the primary reason for joining that club was the benefit of membership. Previously, the primary motivation was that of serving the souls who normally would have been lost to shipwreck on that rocky seacoast. The impact of that shift is that, eventually, those rescued (now by independent contractors) were no longer welcomed into the Clubhouse. They first had to be cleaned up and made respectable!

 

 

Painful as that sounds, it is a remarkable depiction of the challenge facing religious leaders in the Christian movement today. That “Club” identity has been to known to society for so long that many of our finer churches are viewed by the large community as “a sort of club.” I personally want that to change, and in my lifetime!

 Apparently, that challenge is not the exclusive domain of the Episcopal Church. Leaders in our Mother Church (the Church of England) have been naming this as their reality for years. On page 11 of Mission-shaped church, Reverend Gordon Bates (then Bishop of Whitby in the Church of England) is quoted (from the Church Army News, April 1998) as claiming the following for his Church:

The consequences for a national church, used to operating among people and institutions on the assumptions of Christendom, are acute. The Church of England bases a significant part of its identity on its physical presence in every community, and on a ‘come to us’ strategy. But as community becomes more complex, mere geographical presence is no longer a guarantee that we can connect. The reality is that mainstream culture no longer brings people to the church door. We can no longer assume that we can automatically reproduce ourselves, because the pool of people who regard church as relevant or important is decreasing with every generation.

 The Church has got to realize its missionary responsibilities. We live in a society, whether that be urban or rural, which is now basically second or even third generation pagan once again; and we cannot simply work on the premise that all we have to do to bring people to Christ is to ask them to remember their long-held, but dormant faith. Very many people have no residue of Christian faith at all; it’s not just dormant, it’s nonexistent; in so many instances we have to go back to basics; we are in a critical missionary situation. (The text may be found, in its entirety, here: http://www.cofe.anglican.org/info/papers/mission_shaped_church.pdf)

 I think the irony of Bishop Bates’ words is primarily lost on the Insider and the members of our exclusive Clubs! To the rest of the world, that irony is crystal clear: “We live in a society . . . which is now basically second or even third generation pagan once again” and that shift took place during centuries when we had a church in every neighborhood, offering Church-approved sermons and teachings and ministries every week.

We often hear sociologists and religious pundits proclaim the woes of postmodernity and their impact on congregational vitality. I have recently realized that my heart is hardened to such explanations. I’m convinced that the real problem is not the relativism of postmodernity. Nope, it’s much simpler than that. We have a near Pagan culture today primarily because we clergy have, for generations, managed clubs, not life-saving stations! Their sermons have reinforced the public’s growing sense of the church’s irrelevance. We have developed “club theology” that makes reverencing of the liturgical lifeboat a matter of personal and corporate piety. We have created high standards for membership which have little to do with the original values of the crude little life-saving station. We have placed burdens upon those recently rescued which we ourselves could not bear (to quote that crazy Rabbi from Nazareth). We have hired independent contractors to do the life-saving work and we wonder why the surrounding community would rather give to UNICEF than to support their local parish!

How did we come to the place where, both here and abroad, Church has become so irrelevant that families and couples and singles of all ages and orientations are more attracted to Yoga, “Sweat your Prayers” and Reading Rooms than to the somber tones of the local cleric proclaiming the glories of years past and the moral virtues of the privileged?

Bad theology and vending machine meals, I say. First, bad theology.

For a long time we've known that conformity is the obsession of religious institutions. It is the impulse behind credal confessions and our present rites of initiation, as well as our “Holy Orders process.” Institutions lose their power (or so they believe) when they give it away. They have less authority if they make it too easy to join the ranks of the elite – the clerics and insiders that manage ritual practice. (For more on that, read Peter Berger’s Noise of solemn assemblies.)

 The insistence on Conformity is also the impulse behind our fascination with orthodoxy. The institutional battles faced by each of our American Christian denominations are not concerned with how best to feed the poor or alleviate suffering or how to bring the greatest amount of hope and joy into “pagan” communities as Bishop Bates referencess them. Instead, we fight to retain franchise rights – who’s “in” and who’s “out” of the franchise – the One True Church. In reality, to misquote Forrest Gump, “orthodoxy is as orthodoxy does.” To whom does it make the greater difference whether or not a community member believes correctly regarding the “of one substance” controversy? Is it the rescue worker “hanging ten” on the rocky seacoast, poised to pull one more shipwrecked soul out of the storm? Or is it the Club manager concerned to maintain the purity of the membership’s rolls?

In reality, theology is relationship language that needs to be rescued from the grip of academia and philosophy. The formation of theology is, at its best, indigenous – that is, locally formed and tested in relationship. It cannot be reified any more than manna could have been stockpiled for peoples of another culture, or another time. It cannot be “fixed” or established or codified. Jesus must have known this since we have no record of his having turned to a scribe (anywhere or anytime in his ministry) to ask that he correctly record his teachings so that the movement would get started on the right theological footing. We also have no record that Jesus ever baptized any of his followers into the right movement!

Now to my point on vending machine meals. There is nothing more dull than going forward to receive “a crisp and a shot” from robed holy people, in my humble opinion, though we have made it desirable and “holy” through many years of tradition and back-pedaled theology. Those of you Insiders who love the Eucharistic celebration as it is, please block your ears and bear with me! The Liturgical Lifeboat is still a means of grace for you and I honor that.

 

In reality, most of the outsiders who might come to our Eucharistic Celebrations are actually looking for the Johannine “Feeding of the 5000” rather than the “Last Supper.” And, if you show up longing to share meals around a new family table because your life is spinning out of control or because you just found out that your birth family isn’t the family you always thought it was or because you don’t have the resources to buy your own next meal, a “crisp and a shot” just doesn’t quite do it. Instead, it feels sort of like punching a button on a machine owned by a Pepsi distributing franchise.

 

Based on all of that, I ask myself constantly, “What would it take for these ‘pagans” to try out a community of faith, once again?” Before I can even get to that question, I have to ask, “Why would a community of faith want to reconnect with the ‘pagans’ in their community?” (I have well-earned misgivings about clubhouse Christianity’s tendency to mimic Procrustes’ bait and switch hospitality!)

  

That was the very question that Jesus addresses when, against his followers’ better judgment, he feeds everybody present, not just the true confessing followers! He offers them a meal so exuberantly generous that there are 12 baskets left over! There’s no vending machine mentality here! There’s a sense of Divine wastefulness that draws even the most curmudgeonly among us to give of our best, and freely!

 

What might Jesus have been offering his followers? A Divine call to repentance, I’d say! Repent, not of sins that the “holy” fuss and fume about, from their pulpits! Those are symptoms of brokenness, not the cause! Repent of the cause – that of living a life based on Fear – the human dynamic most diametrically opposed to love. Fear that they  would run out. Fear of dying. Fear of failure. Fear that would keep us from trusting the Spirit so totally that we too might give up our lives for the sake of finding Life.

 

Now here is the hard part. I serve an anxious institution – the Episcopal Church. It is being served and led by some really remarkable people who struggle to address these questions, faithfully, these days. It is not an easy calling or vocation to offer, mostly because it is really hard to sort out the Club practices and values from those of the crude little life-saving station. Much of the time, we live in the gray realm between those two. But I, and others, constantly ask, “How would we behave and what would we do differently if we really got over our fear and moved to a deep and passionate love for the world that the Spirit loves so dearly?”

 

Here are my quick answers. I welcome yours.

 

1.)    Invest our material resources (our buildings and property and bank accounts) in developing new communities of faith that are contemporary embodiments of the crude little life-saving stations described in the parable.

2.)    Give up our need to define and control orthodoxy. Get rid of club membership rolls.

3.)    Bless (whether you call it “ordination” or not) all those offering ministry of any kind.

4.)    Start conducting ourselves as if we really believed that “we are the stories that we tell.” Start trusting the indigenous nature of “doing theology” and better develop the capacity to “sense” the Spirit at work.

5.)    Learn what it means to become “Birthing Centers” for the midwifing of new ministry.

6.)    Get comfortable with recycling clubs back into life saving stations, where the focus is on the outsider, more than on the needs of the insider.

 

Let me offer, in closing, that I feel quite vulnerable in sharing this publicly. I know that it may not be seen as in keeping with the Scripture, Tradition and Reason stool that we pride ourselves in as Episcopalians. But, as a friend of mine recently asked, “What are we supporting with that stool we love so much?” My motivation is not to critique our denomination and its traditions so much as it is to provoke us to get back to the mission and practices of the crude little life-saving station. My dream is that we (presently, members of clubs) might long for the rewriting of the parable. My dream is that, in my lifetime, or in my daughter’s lifetime, a new leader would reflect on this Kairos moment and rewrite the parable, “History continued to repeat itself, but if you visit that sea coast today, you will find a number of crude little life-saving stations as well as clubs along that shore. Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but most of the people are pulled to safety. Oh Happy Day!

 

 

Let us pray: “Oh God, open our eyes to see Your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal.” Amen

 

(from Eucharistic Prayer C, in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer)

Dreaming with compassion . . .

I had a dream . . . a few nights ago – it startled me awake! In the dream I am wandering out of a lush tropical jungle into an open clearing. The bright sun is shining down on me and my nose is filled with the heavy scent of fresh asphalt. Just up over the rise I’m climbing, I can see a runway with a Boeing 737 parked off to the left. There is a jet way parked next to it and local villagers are climbing the steps up into the open doorway. They are singing joyfully and making real harmony together. They’re even moving in a kind of swaying dance as they make their way to their seats, inside. I look off to the left and there is a home-made trailer piled high with luggage but it’s curiously attached to the back of the jet with a trailer hitch that someone has rigged …

As I watch, now a little closer, the last person climbs the stairs and the view through the portholes says that each person is now seated – every window is filled with a face – happy, grateful and united. But, what follows really surprised me!

From seemingly nowhere, a dozen strong men in colorful uniforms walk up to the plane’s two wings and toss thick ropes over and around, tying the ropes off before they pass them over their shoulders. Looking left and right to choreograph their efforts, they begin a kind of “Heave Ho!” back and forth – straining forward and leaning into the first inch of progress. The shiny new jet starts to roll – slowly at first but then it picks up speed as the two wing team breaks into a slow trot down the runway. Right there, as I watch, these strong men sing their way off into the distance, dragging this powerful jet behind them. Within a short time, they reach the other end – close to the outline of the village off in the distance. On that end, someone else rolls a jet way up to the side of the jet’s fuselage and the passengers make their way out of the plane and off the runway and into the village – their destination. Once the last person disembarks and the last piece of luggage unloaded from the trailer, the jet is turned around and parked – left to wait for the passengers’ ceremonial return later that evening.

It was in that moment that I woke up – immediately making links between that beautiful jet, the passengers, the transformative gifts we receive in empowered faith communities, etc. The dream startled me and started in me a process of wondering – “How do we compassionately disturb the coherence that insists that we keep our own version of ‘the jet’ safely on the ground?”

You can see where this is headed – you may have far better ways of understanding and acting on this crazy dream - I’ll stop here. My hope is that you’ll accept my invitation to engage this question, with compassion.

 

Thanks for engaging this,

 

Tom

646-203-6266

A sermon offered to the Clergy of the Diocese of New Hampshire

October 21^st, 2011

Reading: Deuteronomy 34:1-12

Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho, and the LORD showed him the whole land: Gilead as far as Dan, all Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, the Negeb, and the Plain-- that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees-- as far as Zoar. The LORD said to him, "This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, saying, `I will give it to your descendants'; I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there." Then Moses, the servant of the LORD, died there in the land of Moab, at the LORD's command. He was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day. Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated. The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days; then the period of mourning for Moses was ended. Joshua son of Nun was full of the spirit of wisdom, because Moses had laid his hands on him; and the Israelites obeyed him, doing as the LORD had commanded Moses. Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face. He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the LORD sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.

(My brothers and sisters, after following Moses around through his writings for the last thirty years and after being with you these last two days, here’s what I think Moses might have written to you - his descendants in faith, this many years later!)

(In Moses’ voice – whatever that may have been . . .) Hmmmm . . . thank you for the flattering eulogy you’ve preserved in your sacred scriptures all these years. I’m sure you realize that there were several different eulogies out there at the time of my death – not all of them were so flattering! By the way, who came up with that line, his vigor had not abated”? Man, I was tired by then! But this eulogy will do. Thank you!

I’d like to take a few minutes to reflect on what I’ve learned in the intervening years. I’ve returned to those plains of Moab on a few occasions – once at the request of Joshua’s successor – the Rabbi Jesus. Those occasions were cause for both delight as well as consternation. Let me explain.

I could never have imagined that the LORD would allow this creation venture to string along for so long. I always thought that soon after I left this earth, this Divine Experiment would have come to an end – an end of our own making. You see, I lived my 120 years with the sense that we would always be a People of the Wilderness. Obviously, you are not. And that’s good and it’s not so good, as well. I owe who I am to those years in the Wilderness – it shaped me and my friends in definite and powerful ways. I’d like to reflect on those ways with you this morning . . .

It came as such a surprise to me back then to learn that the God of the Promised Land is no different than the God Who came to us in the Wilderness of Zin. I too watched Yahweh lead Joshua out across the Plains and over the horizon before my sight dimmed for the last time. I remember hoping that my people would never forget all the ways that the LORD showed up and surprised us over 40 years. As one of my successors said so well, “He prepared a Feast Table for us” in the Wilderness, when we had no temple and no land to call our own and while we were surrounded by Hostiles.

Can I get real with you? While it was painful to watch our sons and daughters go on without me, I was actually more comfortable staying back. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob always seemed restless in the kibbutzim we eventually lined out and the boxes my successors built. I mean, I understand why we eventually built them – I just felt trapped by the very idea of a settled and stable LORD and I sensed that the God of Gods did, too. We were in the habit of pushing canvas aside to access the Presence of Yahweh. The Temple Cult that influenced you never made sense to me. God came to me – to us - on mountain tops, in sandstorms and halfway across the Red Sea.

Oh, and that story about me smacking the rock twice . . . I’d like to say that the rod bounced but you’d know better if you’ve led God’s people for any length of time. I really did hit that rock twice – the story’s right – I took myself way too seriously. The years of whining and complaining and fearful anxiety finally got to me and I took it all on, as though it was my deal. Oh, a thousand times over I wish I hadn’t! I wish I’d lovingly and curiously tapped that rock and then lingered a while to watch the miracle of Water in a Desert so dry that even I had chapped lips!

You laugh, but I really came to believe that the whole venture depended on me. That was really my demise, in the end. I’d forgotten that these were God’s people, that this was God’s venture, that it was God’s great gamble. I forgot and I lost my way and I lost my temper and, as much as I love the way you remember me . . . I have to admit that I lost my joy. It was such a pain to lead after that – God did all of us a favor in Joshua the Son of Nun. He was a new generation of leader – he still had his joy and he had faith and, while he cherished the God of the Wilderness, he also cared about those who were too uncomfortable with worshipping a God always on the move. The other thing about Joshua is that he had friends – they really led together. Together, they made their job look so much easier than mine.

You know, that’s a lingering sore spot with me! I never did have friends – equals. I did it my way with the sometimes help of my family. Miriam and Aaron were great - I owe them my life but that’s not what I mean. They held up my arms and they did all the things I was too afraid to manage on my own. The problem was that we didn’t know how to laugh at the absurdity of our venture together. I never could get over the Canaanite images of an insecure God who needed constant sacrifice and subservience.  

I also struggled to relax with what the gift of Manna should have taught me. There we were – in the middle of nowhere – with no neighbors and no allies. I have to confess that I was terrified of dying out there without even a marker in those shifty sands. ‘Looking back on it now, I so wish I’d relaxed with this crazy God who showed up in a burning bush, the One who carved the Law in stone with Her finger and still fed us with “What is it?”

A wily woman you know as Sara was the one who laughed – she dared to tease – to taunt – to laugh out loud at the absurdity of God’s dealings. I wish I’d learned from her. But I didn’t. I don’t think I laughed once in all my years! I was very serious and earnest – so earnest it almost killed me. Even Jacob learned to dance, once he gave up the whole wrestling thing. Sure he limped but we actually remembered him for the impish grin that never left his face after he caught on. That foolish one . . . we were all so jealous!

I know, I know . . . you remember me for the Pentateuch and for conveying the Law. I’d much rather be remembered as the one snatched from the Nile – one who followed God in the Desert – one who delivered stone tablets but all along wished that God talked to His people directly (that only came later!) – one who pleaded with the Lord on behalf of His people.

Ohhh . . . you’re looking for last words?! Well! I certainly hope these are not my last … but here’s what I’d say to you priests – you priests from the order of Melchizadech! Dance and laugh and be silly with the LORD GOD because it’s all over so quickly and when you meet up with the Blessed One, that’s what you’re going to do, anyway! Share that leadership - pass the staff around and even share the job of whining. Listen to each other – listen deeply to the One who dares to speak to you from heart to heart. Believe me! Believe me when I tell you that the LORD is not as insecure as we used to believe. She will even call out to you from the Burning Bushes of your hearts. Take off your shoes in each other’s Presence (and I mean Presence with a capital P).

Oh, and one more thing – there isn’t just one Promised Land already discovered. There isn’t just one; there is always one more. The One who Dreams is always out there – out beyond our fears – it’s that place where each of us is most alive – where we get it. Your temples are great – but they’re just basecamps on the way to the Summit where we are each invited to experience our Transfiguration.

One Last thing? May I assure you that this One whom we chased all our lives never left me for a moment in those last days of my body up on Nebo. As you heard from the Wilderness Rabbi Jesus, this “I am that I am” will be with you to the end of the world. Oh, what?! You say you’re tired?

Well! You saw how the LORD our God carried us, just as one carries a child, all the way that we traveled until we reached the place we called home. That same God will carry you there, as well.

OK, I have to go now… Nebo is calling me back!

Covenant by Rebbe Rachel

I promise to try to begin and end each day with gratitude.

via velveteenrabbi.blogs.com

I welcome this i my life, today.

Good News, Part four

Trying it out:  Do you want your faith community to be a vibrant and powerful lending community that joins God in ministry inside and outside the church walls? Then start with the stories of faith you already have. Learn to notice and name and celebrate evidences of God’s Presence among us, both yesterday and today. Here are some guidelines to help you get started. (After these guidelines, you will find some specific starter questions that you might try on.)

Each missio:Engage! team member is to find two people to interview, according to the following guidelines. These can be church members, but it would be great to interview faith-filled people who are not members, as well. As soon as possible after the story listening encounter, you will write out or type out your notes from the conversation. More on that, in a moment.

Starting places:  Think about the ten or so people you really admire inside and outside your faith community. You admire them for their faith, or their courage or their joy. All of these are gifts of the Spirit and evidence of God at work. Your assignment will be to set up a time to meet with two of them (separately) and then listen out one of their stories of faith. You’ll take notes and then reflect on those notes with your missio:Engage! team, later. 

Guidelines:  The following suggestions are offered in the hopes of making this process as natural as possible. Please feel free to adapt these to suit your personal style. It might help if your team came together to plan out who will ask whom for interviews.

Invite the prospective story-teller in person, if at all possible. Calling them by phone is also OK. Try not to invite the person by e-mail – this is one invitation where it’s best to connect, face to face.

Here is a possible invitation and explanation:

“I know you to be a person of faith (or courage or hopefulness). The kind you have is a real gift and deserves our attention. I’d like to learn more about your journey of faith – how you came to have this confidence (or courage or hopefulness). Would you mind sharing an hour or so with me? I’d like it if you would tell me some of your story. Here’s why! Several of us are convinced that our faith stories are this Church’s greatest treasures. We believe that our greatest gift is the faith we have to lend each other and that’s why I’m asking.”

You might want to offer the person some time to think about the story they would choose to tell. Few of us have ever been asked for these stories – it may come as a surprise or even a brand new experience. Some of us like to prepare when we tell stories close to the heart. You might ask for the story or invite the story one week and then make time to hear it in the next week. You may need to ask ten people in order to gather up two stories.

Remember to ask for the stories in a safe space and at a moment when you have a little time to listen deeply.

Here are two questions that I’ve learned to ask in open and reverent curiosity: “Can you think of an experience you’ve had that really opened your heart to recognize God’s Presence and Love in your life? Would you mind sharing some of that story with me?”

Practice open curiosity and wonder when asking for the stories. Pay attention to the parts of the story that are not told, as well as to the parts that are.

Listen for the ways that the person’s heart was affected by the story, as it unfolds.

Honor the story as it is offered. If you have questions, ask permission to ask them, without interrupting or breaking the flow of thought and the telling.

Wonder out loud about how the story convinced the teller’s heart that God was/is present. Do not imagine that you already know anything of the person’s experience. Instead, assume that they have had an experience that is unique to them. Resist the urge to compare the story with other stories or your own.

Be comfortable with the small silences that mark the personal telling of a special story.

Keep checking in with the storyteller. Make sure they are comfortable with the questions you are asking – that they feel respected and honored in this process.

Let the story stand on its own – resist the urge to make it better or more powerful.

Keep in mind that the telling of the story is up to the owner of that story. If it is to be retold, the preference is to let the owner share it. In other words, the story needs to stay confidential unless permission to share is given.

Section One – Suggested follow-up questions for use during the interview:  With those story-listening guidelines in mind, here are some follow-up questions that you may find helpful. These are not offered for you to ask in sequence – they are intended as a starting place for deeper story listening.

You’ve shared with me an experience that convinced you of God’s caring presence or goodness in your life. I’m wondering about what convinced you that this was God at work? How did you know?

How did this experience affect your heart, in that moment? What did that feel like?

Can you recall the sense you had immediately before this experience?

How did that feeling compare to what you felt afterwards?

Where was the turning point for you – what was it that changed in you through this?

How does this experience continue to turn your heart towards God?

How does this experience affect your relationship to this faith community?

Are there ways in which this experience continues to strengthen your faith in God?

How do you feel about sharing this story with me?

Are there any other questions you wish I would ask of you?

Is this a good stopping place?

Would you mind if I share with you the gifts you’ve given me in our time together and in the telling of this story? (Reflect, in the moment, on the gifts you have received from this story. It’s perfectly OK to pause for a moment and read back through some of your notes. Try to make eye contact and share the highlights of what you heard. Explain that you want the story-teller to know that you heard them.)

Thank them for the honor of hearing this piece of their journey.

Give them a copy of this resource to read, as well.

Section Two - Gathering up your own reflections:  Go as quickly as possible to a space where you can fill in the rest of your notes. Also, ask yourself some of the following questions, as appropriate.

What do you experience as the gifts of this story-listening experience, for you?

In fifty words or less, would you describe the way that God showed up for the story teller, in their story? (Please do not share any confidential pieces of the story. This is your description, in your language, of the summary of the story.)

How did it affect you to hear the story?

How did it affect the way you think of your own stories of God’s Presence and activity in your life?

Do you think others in your faith community would be blessed to hear the story, just as you did?

Does your church or ministry offer the kind of “safe space” needed to retell the story in a more public way?

What do you think it would take to make that space available on a regular basis?

Prepare to share your answers to Section Two with the rest of the Team. You will not be sharing any of the responses to Section One with the team – that is for the original storyteller to share, if and when he or she chooses to. Try to limit your report to one side of one page. If it would help you, you might copy and paste the questions onto a fresh page so that you can type in your responses in a new file for each one page report. Please share those one-page reports with your team members via e-mail so that they can read them before our 3^rd Sunday session on November 2oth.

My prayer is that you experience this as a joyful and life-giving assignment that convinces you that stories are the BEST containers for Truth. I also hope that you will discover that you are gifted as an Archeologist of Hope and the enormous gift it is for you to focus on this hope as wealth you have to share with all of God’s children.

Good News, part three

New Disciplines:  Many of us who lead in faith communities have discovered that the most life-giving and transformative conversations start with exploring local encounters with Good News. Those conversations usually happen when we commit ourselves to the spiritual disciplines we might call “an archeology of hope.” When we commit ourselves to that archeology, we notice and name and celebrate evidences of God’s Presence among us, both yesterday and today. We do that primarily through stories, especially the stories we draw out or “listen out” into the open. When we listen deeply to these stories, we are uncovering evidences of God at work, often in very personal stories. We are brushing aside distractions and problem stories to begin noticing the stories of hope that have been with us all along. We are uncovering evidences of “God with us!” in the here and now, as well as over there in the past.

While that sounds easy, it does take a little practice and some discipline. Believe me, these story listening practices are worth learning because nothing brings new life to a family or a faith community like paying attention to these stories on a regular basis. The faith stories become spiritual food – like the Manna that nourished God’s people out in the wilderness. Listening for them and drawing them out is the starting place for discovering new life and hope for your faith community.

This practice also serves up the very “Good News” for which the rest of the world is hungering. Every day, all around you, in every neighborhood, people spend desperate lives anxiously searching for some assurance that there is a God who cares – that there is a God who can be known – a God worth living with! The stories of “God with Us!” are the stories that much of the world longs to hear.

One more point . . . before we can go much farther in the missio:Engage! process, we need Strength for the Journey we have ahead of us. We need these stories, as well. Clergy all across the Episcopal Church are hungry for fresh stories of encounters with God, as well! These stories are lifeblood to our faith practices. And believe it or not, all the strength and wisdom you need is right there in your church. It’s a matter of learning how to listen each other into a certain kind of community – a special community that many of us have longed for, most of our lives. Let me describe it as a “lending and borrowing community.”

In fact, that’s how I describe my own faith community. On some days I lend faith to my friends and on other days, I borrow faith from them. We lend and borrow faith to/from each other so that we can say “Yes!” to God, together. The Apostle Paul tells us that faith comes from hearing – from listening and paying attention to -- God’s story, especially as it shows up in our own.

Good News, Part 2

The Practice:  Unfortunately, many of us who care deeply about the Church can be distracted away from the simplicity of Jesus’ message. We often make Jesus’ claims more complicated than they need to be. We pretend that God needs us to defend the “right” message and preserve it the way we received it. We might even go so far as to hold out a kind of religious emptiness that eventually starves the soul. We talk about the Divine in big words and complicated terms that often cover up the life and joy of Jesus’ story. That expression of God language is usually lifeless and dry. It is nothing like the powerful stories that Jesus told while drawing in the dirt or sitting on grassy hillsides. We forget that, originally, Churches were “good news communities” and we live distracted lives.

 A wise leader once claimed that sharing the Good News of God’s Presence in street language is sort of like what happens when one homeless person tells another homeless person where they just found a delicious meal a few minutes before.[1] I experience that as a powerful description of what it means to share the Good News of God as we know it in Jesus. You might say that one person who was hungry is now full. That person shares really good news with the hungry person in front of them. What is the good news? That there is great food waiting for them, right now and within their reach.

 Bear with me for a moment as we explore what the Good News is not. It is not one homeless person lecturing another homeless person about preferred silverware, good eating practices or personal hygiene. It is not explaining the ethics of sustainable farming or the history of food preparation. In that moment, the hungry person needs food, not a lesson in folding napkins. (Personal/community hygiene and the art of setting tables can come later, especially if the grateful homeless person decides to help out with future meals.)

Consider this for a moment! The Good News of God as we know about it through Jesus is a lot like the Manna that the Children of Israel received while they were wandering around in the Wilderness of Zin.[2] Through the Manna (the name means “What is it?”), God provided for the Israelites when their supplies from Egypt ran out. The Manna they received from God’s provisions was just enough for that day (except on Saturdays when they received enough for the whole weekend). They could not stockpile it or ship it elsewhere. It was just for them, in that moment and space. The whole community was sustained by it and no one person had more access than another. What a miracle! With that Exodus story in mind, several of us have decided not to ask, “What is the Good News?” any more. Instead, we ask, “How have you recently experienced the Good News?” Can you feel the difference between the two questions?

The first question - “What is the Good News?” - attracts intellectual debate about theological fine points. The question invites us to compare definitions of the Gospel, in the hopes of finding one better than the rest. The second question invites you to check in with your heart, as well as your brain. It is asking for a story, not a definition.

 The second question invites you to share something really life-changing for you. It opens up the space for the sharing of gifts – for the sharing of your best offerings, doesn’t it?

 In my own experience, when I have asked people the question, “What is the Good News?” they assume I think I already have the “correct” answer. It is as though I’m testing the listener to see if they know the “correct” Good News, like I do. If I ask the listener, “Have you experienced the Good News?” I am still asking for a “Yes” or “No” answer. That conversation is probably not going very far.

 However, if I ask “How have you recently experienced the Good News?” I am inviting my conversation partner to remember a recent experience that has convinced them that God cares; that God is present to him or her; that God has surprised them with abundant life! Or, it may be that asking such a question clarifies that he or she is still hoping for some Good News but hasn’t yet experienced it.

---

[1] “Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where he found bread.” Daniel T. Niles, New York Times, May 11, 1986

[2] You can read more of this story in Exodus 16.

Good News, part one

(Recently, I was asked to write about the practice of sharing the Good News of God as we know it in Jesus of Nazareth. I offer this three part response as an invitation for you to look over my shoulder. Please keep in mind that there are four guidelines I am following.

1. Keep it simple.
2. Stay conversational.
3. Resist the urge to represent the entire Christian movement.
4. No complicated theological terms allowed.

 I invite your responses – please bear in mind that this is not as simple as it seems. Try it; you’ll see.)

 Introduction:  2000 some years ago, Jesus of Nazareth spent his life convincing us that the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob loves all of the people of this world as well as all of creation. He was a Palestinian Jew and a homeless synagogue teacher. He often spent his time with really poor people and those we usually stay away from. He insisted on teasing religious leaders who took themselves too seriously. He repeatedly explained that his life and teachings were offered as evidence of a God that cares – One who is present to the hard realities of our life as human beings. He lived in our flesh and blood. He ate our food and he breathed our air. The Gospel of John says that in Jesus, God put up His tent in the middle of our tents and lived as one of us. We know that Jesus felt lonely and discouraged and abandoned just as we often do. He felt the anger and impatience and joy and contentment that we feel on any average day.

 So what was the point of this Divine visitation? It seems that Jesus came among us to convince us that the God who is always with us knows us very well and loves us passionately, just the way we are. Jesus’ life and teachings tell us that there is nothing we can do to make God love us more and that there is nothing we can do to make God love us less. That’s really it – God’s love will never be distracted by our humanity.

 This realization – that God’s love is unconditional – is the most powerful truth in all the world to me. It is more powerful than fear and anger can ever be. It has light’s power to drive away the shadows in my soul. Living in the light of this truth transforms my heart both slowly and quickly. Sometimes, I feel God’s love for me through a friend or a compassionate human being. I am changed in that moment – nothing can ever be the same. I move away from my fear of death and darkness and I have the courage to live in God’s light. I am being transformed!

 One of those slower changes is that my heart starts expanding with new space for God’s presence in my life – in my thoughts as well as in my actions. When I am tempted to be suspicious and fearful, God surprises me in the skin and bones of a compassionate friend or in an unexpected encounter in community. Every time that happens, my heart expands a little more. Over time, I realize that once my heart expands like this, it cannot shrink back to its original size. God opens me up to live and love daringly as one loved by God. God even gives me the courage to live in a community of expanding hearts with miraculous expectations!

 Somewhere along the Way, I start realizing that my soul is uniquely shaped to make room for and respond to God’s love. I realize that what I am experiencing could be called Good News. I realize that what I am experiencing is what I’ve been made for, all along. I also realize that stories of my encounters with God’s powerful love are exactly what many people are longing to hear and privately “try on.” They want to “test drive” my experiences to see if the heart of my stories might also prove true for them.

You can't get there from here . . .

There is an old story from Downeast Maine about a tourist who asks a local farmer about how to get to an obscure little coastal town. After mentally trying on several posible routes, the farmer exclaims, "Well, come to think of it, you can't get there from here!"

Recently I've received a spat of invitations to come present missional concepts that can be used to enhance Christendom tactics. You know ... make the practices a little more relevant in a post-Christian culture kind of thing! In other words the question is, "How do we make our ministries a little more 'authentic' so that we can attract more young people?"

Hmmm . . . isn't there an old story about pouring new wine into old wineskins? Oh and there's another one about a Greek hotelier by the name of Procrustes who used similar tactics in his welcome to passing travelers. What is the disconnect here?

When asked, "Can these bones live?" we have to be willing to stand in front of the LORD and say, "Only You know that one!" The last thing we need to take on is bone sorting or bone stacking or bone studies. We don't really even have to map the Valley in which the very dry bones are lying!

Instead, we wait for the direction to prophesy to the bones, and then to Ruach. Sometimes there is a waiting period and sometimes it happens quickly that the Spirit comes from the four directions and inspires the bones into a great multitude rising up.

At no point is it appropriate to start bone sorting practices (my funky description of Christendom practices inherited from the 1700 year old marriage of Church and State)!

So here we are in the Valley of (very) Dry Bones. We have a choice before us (once again). We have created generations of professional bone sorters obsessed with classification and categorization and even artificial resuscitation. All along, we tell ourselves that we really want the living, breathing, mysterious Presence enfleshed in the Body of the "called out ones." We wrestle the Divine into shapes we can manage on our tidy altars and mantles but our souls still long for the commands, "Prophesy to the bones" and "Prophesy to Me - the One you call 'Ruach'!"

I may be wrong but I'm slowly coming to believe that, honestly, "You can't get there from Bone Sorting Central!"

 

With all sober humility, as a recovering bone sorter myself,

 

Tom

 

Sources: Ezekiel 37

 

Quarterly Regional Roadshow showcasing Missional Conversations in the Bay Area

Next week, Tom Brackett will be touring ministries in the Bay Area – interviewing a group of really thoughtful leaders around the questions, “Can these bones live?” and, “What does it take to shift from being a church-shaped mission to a mission-shaped church?"  

From Sunday night through Wednesday noon, Tom will be recording interviews and then sharing some of those clips on Wednesday evening in a live conversation from 5-8 pm in Easton Hall at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific. The conversation will be sparked by some of the video recorded interviews and it will itself be digitally recorded -- available to participants locally and nationally via the Internet, afterwards.

Here’s the real invitation: We’d like you to come join us in that conversation circle via a live WebEx VideoConference Session. (The rest of this message is divided into two parts: Connection information and Content for the Conversation.)

 

Connections:

Topic: Live VideoConference from CDSP - "Can these bones live?"

Date: Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Time: 8:00 pm, Eastern Daylight Time (New York, GMT-04:00)

Meeting Number: 735 142 447

Meeting Password: ecc2011

 

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To join the online meeting (Now from mobile devices!)

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1. Go to https://dfms.webex.com/dfms/j.php?ED=153723562&UID=0&PW=NOTg4ZTcwZDk4&RT=MiMxMQ%3D%3D

2. If requested, enter your name and email address.

3. If a password is required, enter the meeting password: ecc2011

4. Click "Join".

 

To view in other time zones or languages, please click the link:

https://dfms.webex.com/dfms/j.php?ED=153723562&UID=0&PW=NOTg4ZTcwZDk4&ORT=MiMxMQ%3D%3D

 

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To join the audio conference only

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To receive a call back, provide your phone number when you join the meeting, or call the number below and enter the access code.

Call-in toll number (US/Canada): +1-408-600-3600

Global call-in numbers: https://dfms.webex.com/dfms/globalcallin.php?serviceType=MC&ED=153723562&tollFree=0

 

Access code:735 142 447

 

Content for the Conversation

 The line of questions the conversations will pursue will focus primarily on what it means to stand in one’s place as a leader and ask, "Can these bones (those of the church in the 21st Century) live?"

As lead-ins to that query, Reverend Brackett will ask some (but not all) of the following questions during the interviews.

When you dream of the Church of the Future, what do you see?

Would you briefly describe the leadership journey that brought you to this moment and space in ministry?

Based on your own experiences, what do you believe are the top three challenges you believe that missional leaders face in today's church?

What sustains your hope in this work?

Where do you find the greatest inspiration and support for your ministry?

In order for you to continue to say "Yes!" to the Spirit in your current leadership role, what do you need to let go of and what do you need to learn?

If you were to take on (or continue) "midwifing God's future that longs to emerge in this moment", what capabilities do you need to develop?

How are you developing your ministry teams? What do you need from your teams, and what do your teams need from you?

Nine to twelve months from now, what criteria will you use to assess whether you are successful in this particular piece of your work?

As you reflect on our conversation and review all that we have shared here, what important question comes up for you now that you take out of this conversation and into your journey forward? 

As always, if you have any questions, you have 3 ways to contact Tom Brackett:

phone at 646-203-6266

e-mail at tbrackett@episcopalchurch.org

schedule a conversation at your convenience here: http://doodle.com/TomBrackett

 

"Intentional" "Redeveloper" ?

Recently, I was asked to clarify what I mean by the term "Intentional Redevelopment! My use of the term has emerged from years of collaboration with redevelopers in several denominations (both lay and ordained). Two terms used – first an explanation of the ways in which we use "Redeveloper."

Early in the right side of the congregational lifecycle (moving into decline, after stability) redefinition of the ministry is an appropriate intervention. If there is a delayed leadership response to the realities of decline, redevelopment is necessary. Redevelopment involves the following interventions, as offered by a differentiated leader:

  Surveying the parish’s current reality with truthful and appreciative approaches.

  Assessing readiness -- just how ready are the core leaders for change?

  Developing a fresh sense of “Holy Urgency” and introducing an archeology of hope.

  Outlining the process of "Re-Rooting" in the ministry context that the faith community is called to serve.

  Going public with the emerging redevelopment intentions.

  Gathering a core team for learning the practice of Spirit-Spotting, renewed life and hosting fresh conversations.

  Covenanting for new behaviors and new outcomes both on the local parish level, as well as with Diocesan leadership.

  Getting back to the basics – evangelism, worship, fellowship and ministry – in a new key for the redeveloping community.

 

Secondly, we use the term, "Intentional" since so many of our leaders need to be convinced that there is an art form / science / social technology to sustainable redevelopment. Many of our clergy and lay leaders have been taught (even recently) that if they will simply offer excellent liturgy and/or preaching, the ministry in decline will "turn around." Others still believe that redevelopment is the same as redefinition or that redevelopment happens more "incidentally." Our studies with "serial redevelopers" tell us that "intentional redevelopment" is more like a gracious and compassionate intervention.

At its core, Intentional Redevelopment is a multi-disciplinary approach to shifting embedded behavioral systems and entrenched behaviors. That said, sometimes diocesan leaders and local clergy have waited too long for redevelopment to be a suitable and compassionate response. Redevelopment typically includes the compassionate disturbance of coherence, whether on the local, adjudicatory or denominational levels.


Additional resources:

Pathways to renewal

Holy conversations

Orbiting the giant hairball

The art of the start

Theory U

Born of water, born of Spirit

 

Finally, the best resource would be for you to come join us on the 4th Friday of every month at 4 o'clock Eastern! We'll look for you!