People come
and go from an urban church without much notice. They can slip in, and slip out
again without much notice. Whether they find what they’re looking for is a
mystery.
But when someone
who’s been a leader, who’s invested time and trouble into creating
relationships and worked at being part of the Emerging Spirit leaves – for me –
it calls into question my own motivations.
While I
believe it is a healthy thing for someone who feels that they’re no longer
being “fed” by a church community to move on – it challenges the rest of us to
look at the value of the community we create.
There is a
disconnect between offering soul food for people…and then inviting them into
the messy, problematic work of community development. And then, when you add
institutional reform into the mix of membership, you want to yell to the
departing folk…“RUN – save yourselves!+.
For me these
chores are all intertwined. But I get paid to do that work. Is it a mission I
would accept without the pay? Would I volunteer my time to try to turn around a
ship fueled by the status quo??
Nothing is
more important, I believe, (once practical concerns of food and shelter are
dealt with) than pursuing the question of Who am I? Why am I here? and What is
the role I have to play with the gifts I’ve been given?
These
questions require desert time, wilderness time, listening time.
How I yearn
for a community who can support and feed such questing.
I know many
individuals who are seriously pursuing such paths.
I know of no
local circle that can provide a container of support and wisdom for such solo
journeying. A circle that would not try to contain it, define or label it, but simply support the
questing wherever it might take the soul.
And then there
is the work of community building. Of creating human associations to bring
disparate people together to share food, art, song, fun, and of course, good
work.
In
Peterborough there are dozens of good places where one could choose to join in
and make community happen for oneself and others. A church is just one choice
among the many places where community happens.
And then there
is the work of transformation of the institutional church.
For me it is
fundamentally about creating a vessel that will carry stories of hope and
sustenance from one generation to the next. It is about creating new living
stories in that vessel that tell an alternative version of “what really
matters”.
The current
UCC vessel is sinking. And I often think that this must happen first. That it’s
only when the flagship sinks that the the lifeboats will be launched. Then
those small circles of storytellers and believers in the impossible powers of
sharing will get out the oars and start rowing.
How about
another image? Can the young plants of a new wider, more inclusive storytelling
thrive in the shadows of a big old oak like George Street? Or do they need the
bright sunshine of an open field to root and grow?
When someone
chooses to abandon ship, I have to ask myself “Would I volunteer for this last
mission?” If I wasn’t paid staff, would
I accept this impossible mission of transformation? Would I voluntarily take
its frustrations, its snail’s pace, its inevitable misunderstandings and
conflicts and tensions into my life?
There are
times when I question whether it’s worth the paycheque. There must be an easier
way to make a living. And then I ask “Wouldn’t it be easier to go with the
status quo flow and be a pastor to a dying tradition?” Palliative Care is a
worthy ministry.
Why bother
tackling the work of Transformation?
The answer to
this last question I cannot answer alone. The answer has to come from the group
of people who choose to make it happen.
It strikes me
now as I write this - that this is THE Easter question. Those disciples and
their families and their friends had to ask themselves “Why bother keeping this
Jesus path going?” Obviously it would lead to nothing but more trouble.
The story goes
that they were inspired by mysterious visitations of a dead leader.
The story goes
that there was a mysterious group hallucination that took hold of them and
filled them with a passion to burst out of their hiding places and tell people
in tongues they’d never learned what indescribable joy would make them risk it
all and waste their time on an impossible mission.
Was their plan
to transform Judaism?
Or was their
plan to transform themselves by sharing a way of transformation?
That this
group was in crisis – there is no doubt.
That there was
confusion and conflict and all kinds of different ideas and motivations being
stirred in the pot – isn’t this the only thing we can assume for sure about
what really happened? The very “pot” was in question. Without Jesus was there
even a pot anymore?
Shouldn’t they
all just take their own pot, wish each other well, and go home to watch TV,
join the Kiwanis, and prepare for the END?
Like those
disciples after the crucifiction, I have more questions than answers, more
fears than resolution, more doubts than confidence.
Where is Jesus
when you need him?
Is he out
there in the open fields, free and defying categorization?
Or, is he
hiding somewhere in the shady soil below the church towers?
Or, is he
simply a dead icon, an ancient radical prophet upon which generations have
projected our hopes and needs?
Have you seen
him?
thanks to www.nakedpastor.com
and www.wondergaze.blogspot.com
for the images this week
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