You Pastor? You Pastor!

Several nights ago, I was startled by a knock at the door. While we are used to a steady stream of visitors at our house, this knock was startling as it came at nearly one o'clock in the morning. As I drew back the curtain to see my visitor, I knew who it would be. Sure enough, it was him.

I met him two days earlier when a well-spoken, well-meaning, over-churched neighbor brought him to my door. This neighbor had encountered the man on our diverse street and engaged him in conversation. In the fifty or so words of English he knows, the man – I can't use his name – told my neighbor that he had been brought to this country from Darfur, Sudan. He told my neighbor that Muslims had killed his whole family and that Christians brought him here and because of this . . . he wanted to become a Christian. My neighbor, well spoken and well meaning as he is, is done with just about all things Church (though he did make an appearance at last year's Easter Brunch and Lamb-B-Q), so he brought the man to me.

At the time, we talked briefly and I told him I would follow up with an Episcopal priest in our area who speaks Arabic. I’d be in touch.

It was one o'clock in the morning and he was at my door! I invited him in. What else could I do? Using the few English words he knew, the man explained to me that I had to come to his house right then. I was reassured that there was no emergency, but he insisted I had to come or he would never come to my house again. I don't respond well to ultimatums – my contrarian nature prevents that – but knowing what a huge deal hospitality is in his culture, I made an exception. What really got me moving what when the man said, “You pastor? You pastor!” He reminded me – as his language would allow – if I am a pastor, then I had better act like it.

I know. All the self-care-proponents just gasped. I know. Thankfully, I live in a small intentional community and I was able to take my brother in Christ and Southside Abbey's Theologian-in-Residence, Nik Forti, with me. We approached the man's house, with a gold plastic Christmas wreath on the door. When we entered, the decorations continued with festive teddy bears, flowers, and, displayed in a place of prominence, an American flag. It was surreal to think about this man - who had lived through unimaginable violence - decorating his apartment with wreaths, flowers, and bears. Oh my.

The man welcomed us in and commanded us: “Sit down!” This may be a cultural thing, but he seems to shout everything he says. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with glasses and a tray full of Fanta, guava nectar, and some sort of cola with Spanish writing on the side. I could feel my blood sugar rising, but again, there was that cultural thing of accepting hospitality.

As the man returned to the kitchen, Nik and I began to drink the offered beverages. The place reeked of cigarette smoke. When the man re-entered the room, he was bearing bowls and plates of incredibly good smelling food. It was starting not to matter that it was nearly two o'clock in the morning.

He disappeared again, this time into a different room. When he emerged, another man, who he introduced as his brother, was with him. Wait!?! Didn't he tell my neighbor that his whole family was killed back in Sudan? That is what he said, because that is what he thought until that evening, when his brother just showed up at his house. That's when it hit me: This was a welcome home party for a brother who was thought dead. The man didn't have anyone else to invite. Nik and I were the guests dragged in off the street for the celebratory banquet. Suddenly, the hour didn't matter, the cigarette smoke didn't matter, my blood sugar didn't matter. What else could we do but keep the feast?

In the days since that visit and that realization, I have been haunted by the man's words, “You pastor? You pastor!” All of us are called to care for one another, right? Through our baptismal covenant, aren't we called to pastor to one another? Then let's pastor!

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts blog on December 11, 2013, and is reprinted here with permission.

Thanksgiving Means Giving-Thanks!

My wife is a band director at a public middle school. A few years ago the principal of the school led the teachers through a process of how to apologize (loosely based upon the process outlined by Randy Pausch). This way students can buy-in to why they are apologizing and take steps toward reconciliation. The process is three-fold. First, say and mean the words, “I am sorry.” Next, say and mean the words, “I take full responsibility.” Finally, ask and mean the question, “How can I make it up to you?”

These words might yield thoughtful introspection on the nature of contrition, confession, and penance. For the purposes of this piece, I wish to jettison the meaning of the words in favor of the process – say how you feel, acknowledge the imbalance in the situation, take action (or at least offer to take action) – as it relates to thanksgiving.

Many of those who give of their time to the Church toil in thankless positions. Who remembers the flower arrangers? Who honors the acolytes? Who heaps accolades on the church secretary? What about office volunteers? Or sextons? Money counters? The altar guild? Lay ministers of nearly every description? Who says, “thank you” to any of these people? Often these ministers are addressed only when there is a problem and then not always in the most helpful ways.

This is a season when the culture gives lip-service to being thankful, but part of thanksgiving means actually giving thanks. Perhaps the Church could model that according to the formula above and we could start with those who give so much of themselves to the Church. So, here's the challenge . . .

1. Say how you feel. 
2. Acknowledge the imbalance in the situation. 
3. Take action (or at least offer to take action). 

A potential exchange might look something like this: 

1. I appreciate you and all that you do for our parish. 
2. This place would not be the same without your ministries here. 
3. What can I do for you to help you in these ministries?

Try it. Try going deeper in this way. Live into the cultural season of thanksgiving, returning to the eucharistic roots of the holiday. What better time could there be?

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on November 27, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

The Season of the Saints

Photo by Kim Bodenhamer Smith

Three Fridays ago, we – as a worshiping community – celebrated All Saints' Day.  I say that we celebrated All Saints' Day that Friday, November 1, but if you were with us, you probably didn’t notice much that was different than any other Friday as Southside Abbey.  We celebrated in the way we always celebrate – by gather in fellowship and prayer around a meal of Thanksgiving, and with a reading and discussion of scripture.  But, then again, perhaps you did notice a few of the little things that made that Friday different from the ones that had come before.

On that Friday three weeks ago, we sang a new song as the consecrated bread and (nonalcoholic) wine were passed before and after the meal, respectively.  We sang that old, gospel hymn, “When the Saints Go Marching In.”  And more than that, our liturgy was different.  Now, liturgy is church-word that comes from the Greek meaning “work of the people,” and it refers to that good work God has given us to do – the praise and worship of Him, the celebration of the grace and blessings he gives us through Jesus, and the prayers by which our restless desires and common toils find rest in Him.  At Southside Abbey, we often have much of our liturgy scripted out, and that script changed that All Saints' Day.

Our liturgy for the Lord’s Supper from that Friday on through the following three Fridays, that is to today, has been based on a combination of the two most ancient Eucharistic (“Thanksgiving”) prayers of the Church.  The most ancient form is recounted by St Paul in a letter to the Church in Corinth (I Cor 11:23-25), from which we get the Words of Institution.  The rest of our prayer has come from combining the two Eucharistic rites found in the Didache – a first or early, second century manual of instruction for following Jesus and common prayer.

This Friday evening we’ll continue to use this liturgy as we celebrate another important day in the Church’s liturgical calendar – the Feast of Christ the King.  In celebrating with the same song and liturgy from All Saints Day to the Feast of Christ the King is our way of acknowledging that this period of time in the Church’s calendar is of a piece.  We remember the saints – that cloud of witnesses who have come before us and been raised to the resurrected life – because they pledged their ultimate allegiance to Jesus Christ rather than to a nation or a flag or an ideology or the pursuit of wealth, power, and fame.

It's All Real! Resurrection is All Around Us!

Driving home from a meeting of church professionals last week, I was pretty down. I don't know how common this knowledge is, but a fair number who serve the church are pretty down, pessimistic, or otherwise worn out. This assembly was no exception. It was full of “can'ts,” “nos,” and “that's impossibles.” As church professionals, isn't that our business? What is resurrection if not a “that's possible,” a “can,” or a “yes?”

I processed my feelings about this meeting with a friend during the hour-long drive home. He could tell that I was on that same negative trajectory that I had just lamented seeing in others. Rather than call me on it, he let me vent. I dropped him off and headed to my next meeting: Holy Communion. We have a saying in East Tennessee: “God knows how to call a meeting.” Is that ever true.

Later, on the ride home from the feasting on God's Word and at God's Table, I wasn't finished processing. I wasn't finished venting. I turned to my common conversational partner, God. What started as more complaining turned a corner as I turned a corner, pulling the truck into the neighborhood where I live and serve . . .

I was overwhelmed with peace and joy. I saw the motel where Southside Abbey celebrated our first birthday. I saw the chicken processing plant that employs hundreds in our neighborhood. I saw children playing basketball in the street. That's when tears began to stream down my face. At the same time I began to laugh. Then I heard myself say out loud – in words that could only have been the Holy Spirit's – “It's all real. Resurrection is everywhere.”

 That's when I knew I was snared. The laughing continued. I felt like I was in on the joke. Submitting, I got out of the truck and started to walk along the sidewalk beside my house. In words that were once again mine, I said, “Okay Holy Spirit. I get it. What's next?” In an answer to that question, I turned my head towards the lawn on my left and there – walking right beside me – was the first dove I have seen since last season. Okay Holy Spirit. I get it. What's next? It's all real. Resurrection is all around us.

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on October 17, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

Believe in the Resurrection? Heck - We've seen it!

If you haven't heard about it, there's recently been a blog battle waged between two of the big, popular Christian thinkers of the day.  The first shot was fired - apparently without any attempt to offend - by author and Theologian-in-Residence at Solomon's Porch, Tony Jones.  On his blog, responding to the question of a reader, Jones casually characterized the view of Christ's resurrection held by Marcus Borg as a feeling that "only happens in the believer's heart," rather than an event that occurred in objective reality.  Borg - the well-known historical Jesus scholar and Canon Theologian at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral - countered by claiming that Jones has misrepresented his take on the Resurrection of Jesus.  Jones allowed that perhaps his original characterization was off the mark, but that Borg's perspective, even with all the nuance it demands, amounts to a denial of the resurrection as a real event.  Finally, Borg followed up with a post in which he further explained his perspective and reiterated the question at the end of his previous post: "does [this] disagreement matter?"

Not a few bloggers have weighed in on this whole debate.  And I certainly have my own thoughts on that matter (some of which can be read in this Easter sermon about zombies and vampires).  But I'd rather talk about another reflection on the resurrection I've heard recently.

Photo by Ben Thomas

The other day, our merry missioner, Bob and I were riding back from a meeting that included some of our fellow clergy in the area.  During our conversation on the drive, it became clear that the negativity of a few of the clergy about their ministries had diminished Bob's usual joviality.  Later in the day, Bob was back in high spirits.  So, I asked him what could have lifted the cloud of gloominess that followed us from the meeting.
He answered, "The Holy Spirit, man."

Bob explained that he had been driving back after presiding at the Eucharist at a nearby church for a rector who was away.  As he was returning to the Southside, the Spirit filled him with her sighs too deep for words.  He saw that old chicken factory that employs so many in and around the Southside.  He saw that motel that doubles as the most affordable housing for those folks and families who otherwise wouldn't have a home - the same motel where Southside Abbey put up a bouncy-castle, some tables-and-chairs, and a grill a few weeks ago, throwing a party to celebrate one year of striving to be the beloved community in this neighborhood.  He saw this neighborhood we call home, for which Southside Abbey has declared a Jubilee Year and begun collecting the funds to make it so.  He saw that the tomb was indeed empty, and - between laughing and crying - he said out loud:  "The Resurrection is real!  There's resurrection all around us!"

In their blog debate, neither Jones nor Borg have addressed why some saw the risen Christ while others did not, and why some at first only saw a gardener or stranger but later recognized him as their resurrected Lord.  But an Anglican priest and theologian, Sarah Coakley has explored those very questions.  Coakley has looked to the teachings of the early Church fathers and mothers on the development of the spiritual senses for recognizing the resurrected Christ and the new creation begun in him.  In the word proclaimed, we learn to hear and receive the voice of the risen one.  Through the liturgy - our common prayer - our deepest desire is reoriented to its true object, the risen Christ, and we come to recognize him in the Eucharistic meal that we share.  But Coakley points out that the development of these spiritual senses brings with it an awareness of real absence, of the cross, of the empty tomb.

This is no less true when we develop our spiritual senses morally, to see the resurrection in the world around us. "By the same token," Coakley writes, "in my moral life, in my intended acts of mercy, though it is Jesus I seek to obey and emulate, it is always in the erasure of expectation that Jesus truly presents himself to me - in the entirely unromantic other, in the exhausting and defeating poverty of my neighbor . . . ."  And it's this real absence, this erasure of expectation, this recognition of the empty tomb as an empty tomb that empties us, dispossesses us, opens us to the Holy Spirit.  For, finally, the development of our spiritual senses only creates the possibility for recognizing the risen Jesus.  To truly see him - in the Eucharist and in the face of those we serve - is to have received him as a gift given "in the incarnational physicality of" the meal we share and the neighbors we serve, through the Holy Spirit.

"The Resurrection is real!  There's resurrection all around us!"
               

        

Giving Consent

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit…” John 15:16

The “you” chosen and appointed to go in John 15:16 is plural (i.e. “all of you” or “community” - not individual religious rock stars). Of course I like the idea of missional community, of being part of the God’s kingdom as it emerges in new places. But I am not yet comfortable being missional, because the kingdom often appears in places I would rather not go. I eventually witness things I would rather not see. It is a difficult path to follow and not one I would readily choose.

...read the rest here

Jesus Was Right There, in the Bounce House

Until last week, I'd never been involved in a worshipping community's celebration of the completion of its first year; Southside Abbey's one year anniversary changed that.

Think about all that takes place throughout the church year. Ordinary Time becomes the watchfulness of Advent. Incarnation is realized in Epiphany. Lenten fasts are broken by Easter joy. The Great Fifty Days culminate in the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, until once again, time becomes ordinary.

While every parish shares in this rich rhythm, it is different with a new worshiping community. Everything is new. There is no, “we've always done it that way.” At Epiphany, no one thought it odd that we went door-to-door sharing “Episcopal Epiphany Pickles” . . . three hundred pounds of pickles. By Lent, no one batted an eye when soup-making consumed every Sunday . . . so that we could share 400 cups with our neighborhood. 

Our 21st Century interpretation of caring for the feet of the poor became 240 brand new shoes (and the socks to go with them) delivered to the local elementary school . . . no front-page scoop followed. The Pentecost “Tongues of Fire Chili Cook-Off” fed a multitude with close to forty gallons of homemade liquid heat . . . and by now, people were starting to catch on. 

Now, as we look forward to another year, we are also able to tell the story of over 2,000 meals served as a part of worship. It has been a great year. This is what happens when Jesus shows up.

We wanted to celebrate the completion of a year well-lived with a party in true Southside Abbey style. So we decided to worship in the parking lot of a local motel that houses many of the working poor in our neighborhood. We had a grill with hot dogs and veggie burgers, a makeshift altar (complete with flowers picked from a nearby front yard and a piece of barbed-wire found in the parking lot), and a race-car-shaped bounce-house. Nearly 150 people were in attendance for the celebration.

As the celebration was winding down, I noticed a young girl leaving the bounce-house with some determination. I realized that she was headed straight for me. She made her way through the crowd, marched up to me, and hugged me. Her dirt-smudged cheeks had the random tinge of orange frosting. Her hair was matted from little-kid bounce-house sweat. Her clothes were brightly-colored with rainbows and unicorns dancing across the shoulders. This was the most uncomfortable hug of my life . . .

Then, just as soon as she had found me, she pushed her way back through the crowd. I lost her. I still do not know where this child came from, but I know who she really is. I like to think that she was Jesus – right there in the bounce-house – hugging me for what Southside Abbey stepped out in faith to do.

Thank you Southside Abbey for a wonderful year and thank you Jesus for all the hugs. 

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on October 3, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

Missional Churches = Real Churches (Regardless of Size)

I recently had the pleasure of presenting at Episcopal Appalachian Ministries' Mountain Grace Conference, “We(e) Small Voice – Exploring Small and Non-Traditional Church in Appalachia." While there, I was honored to be part of wonderfully honest conversations about how the Holy Spirit is active in Episcopal Churches from Pennsylvania to Georgia. We talked about small churches that were thriving – doing wonderful ministry in, through, and with the communities they serve – and we talked about small churches that were not thriving – with scarcely enough participation or will to continue.

Bishop Ken Price delivered the morning's keynote address, where he sounded the refrain, “Small Churches are Real Churches.” While I appreciated this encouraging message for parishes who really needed to hear it, I will note a trend I saw over the weekend. The small churches that are thriving are those engaged in outwardly focused (what I call missional) activities in their communities. These parishes are doing ministry outside the walls of their buildings, not for the purpose of bringing people through the doors, but for that is where Jesus calls us. There happens to be a side effect of engaging the community in a missional way. As the parish lives into this call – responding in love to the felt needs of the community – more people come through the doors of the building, bringing with them new vitality and creativity.

Other parishes told stories about doing x, y, and z to get people to come into “their” space. I cannot reveal any details as I don't want to embarrass or hurt any of these congregations, but this is a tale that I have heard again and again. When a church, regardless of size, turns the focus inward instead of outward, involvement in the parish begins to shrink as do budgets, numbers, and ministry. What if it really were as simple as turning the focus outward for these parishes?

If our focus is solely inward, it does beg the question, “What is church?” What are we about if we are not about engaging the community outside our walls? Perhaps we are the “Sunday Morning Country Club” that our detractors accuse us of being. Former Archbishop of Canterbury, William Temple, legendarily said, “The Church is the only institution that exists for those who are not yet its members.” How are we doing with that?

 After having participated in EAM's Mountain Grace Conference I can say that the small parishes that are thriving are those that are living into this challenge. So perhaps – with all due respect to the composer, Bishop Price – we might harmonize his refrain, “Small Churches are Real Churches,” with the countermelody, “Missional Churches are Real Churches – Regardless of Size.”

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on September 19, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

Blog Post Featured in Diocese of Central NY's Newsletter

The Episcopal Diocese of Central New York's monthly e-Newsletter, entitled the e-Messenger, picked up a Blog Post by our own Bob Leopold. To see it in context, click here. Thanks Diocese of Central New York and to Andy Pierce, the editor of the Messenger!

Southside Abbey is already planning a summer trip up there to visit.

Their Chance to Lead

This morning I was privileged to see a high school senior give a speech to her entire school. I know her to be a person of deep faith – what kind of high school senior invites her priest to this kind of thing? As she spoke she showed grace, skill, and charisma. I thought to myself, what a wonderful leader she will make someday . . .

Then she danced. She held an auditorium full of teenagers and guests like me in silence, spellbinding us as the grace, skill, and charisma from her words was amplified as it transformed into movement. I was very nearly moved to tears by the beauty of the whole scene. After she took her bows, her schoolmates rushed the stage and embraced her in triumph. The shouts and applause were overwhelming. Thankfully, I was reminded . . .

This proud young lady won't just be a leader someday, she is a leader already. She is a leader right now.

This made me think of an experience at a previous parish I served. A similarly proud young adult put herself out on a limb enough to stand for election to the vestry. When the votes were tallied, she lost. In the days that followed, I heard variations on this conversation: “I didn't vote for her because she is too young. She will have her time to lead.” I restrained myself from saying something like, “Yes. She will lead, it just won't be in the Church. She will lead where she is given a chance to lead and if that is not in the Church, that is clearly our loss.”

How many wonderful church leaders we are holding back right now? How can the Church engage those leaders as leaders (where and when they are) and just allow them to lead. How often do we fall into the trap of seeing the easily definable attribute (such as age) and not seeing the whole person in his or her context?

The most effective ministry is contextual. The young lady I saw dance is a leader in her context. The challenge for the Church is to provide the context for yet-untapped leaders like her, to lead. Looks like I have some phone calls to make (or more appropriately texts to send).

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on September 4, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

More Great Press for Spencer Cantrell

Southside Abbey's own, Spencer Cantrell, made it into Chattanooga's newspaper for his work done in Palestine. Read all about it here.

Southside Abbey is so proud of him.

Spencer's Reflection on Sabeel Conference in Palestine

In between the two-to-three second lulls and jam-ups of the assembly line of buckets winding their way up the rocky hill from the demolition site, I have just enough time to wipe my forehead and press my sunglasses back up my nose, which are perpetually taking gravity's lead, aided by the sweat pouring down my face. Just as quickly as I can accomplish this, it's back to flinging chunk of broken stone and concrete rubble from the buckets onto the growing mound just above us. And so the cycle goes. As a group, we've talked a lot about "moving mountains" over the last few days. Here, at Beit Arabiya, as the joke has been made several times, we're actually moving a mountain "from down there to up here."

... Read the rest here.

Creating a Space for Yes

I'm a “yes” man. I'll admit it, though maybe not the way you are imagining. As facilitator of a non-traditional community, people approach me with all kinds of questions: 

• This All Souls' Day, can we host a meal and worship service at our local homeless center that honors all of the homeless who have died in the previous year? 
• Instead of washing feet this Maundy Thursday, can we collect shoes for our neighborhood elementary school? 
• Can we embody ministry equality and hire a Lay Missioner? 
• I heard about a Church with a Theologian-in-Residence; can we have a Theologian-in-Residence? 

I have been filled-with-the-Spirit or foolhardy enough to answer, “yes,” to all of these questions.
While it is better than being a “no” man, I did not set out to be a “yes” man. I set out to create a safe space for those I serve – a space safe enough to ask questions, but also a space safe enough for the questions to become declarations: 

• We are going to print prayerbook breviaries full of our favorite prayers and readings to give to people we love. 
• We are going to buy a Loaves-and-Fishes Food Truck to share food and celebrate Holy Communion with the poor in our city. 
• Our worshiping community is going to raise $700,000 to give away, making 2014 the Year of the Jubilee.

I was miles away from home when it happened, when the questions turned into statements. A group of lay leaders got together without me and decided to make 2014 the Year of the Jubilee in our community. They decided to raise the aforementioned $700,000. While this might sound pretty good to some of us involved in parish leadership, they also added the caveat that every penny of this $700,000 would go to justice ministries and not one penny of this sum would be spent on our own worshiping community.

I returned home to this news, and it hit me: this is what can happen when a community is open to the movement of the Holy Spirit. This is way bigger than anything I could have dreamed up. I can already hear my inner cynic clearing his throat, but I'm a “yes” man now. The conversations among community leaders have already begun. We will raise that $700,000 and my “yes” will turn into a “YES!!!”

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on August 21, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

Being the Beloved Community

“The beloved community may then finally be described as a gift of the kingdom of God introduced into history by the church, and thus it exists within the provenance of Christ’s mystery in the world.”

-Charles Marsh, The Beloved Community, p 207

Within eyeshot of our beloved worship space at H♥ART Gallery there is a beautiful, red brick church building.  The sign in front of the recently restored old edifice identifies it as THE CHURCH ON MAIN.  But this moniker can be misleading for two main reasons.  First, THE CHURCH ON MAIN is located at the corner of Rossville and Read Avenues, not Main Street.  Second, THE CHURCH ON MAIN isn’t actually a church; it’s a rentable event space.  Now, to be fair, a church is currently renting the venue on Sunday mornings.  And this summer, quite a few couples have decided to rent out the space so that – presumably – they could have the appearance of a Church wedding without actually having to deal with the Church.  But all this raises the question: If THE EVENT SPACE ON ROSSVILLE can proudly call itself a Church without anyone batting an eye, what do you call a building-bereft worshiping community like Southside Abbey?

The question is not whether we are a church or part of the Church.  As a worshiping community of Jesus-followers, of course Southside Abbey is a member of the Body of Christ – (part of the μίαν, ἁγίαν, καθολικὴν καὶ ἀποστολικὴν ἐκκλησίαν [One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Assembly]).  The real question is what type of member are we?  What gifts has the Spirit bestowed on us as a community and to what ministry is She calling us in our larger community here in the Southside of Chattanooga?

As our community has been discerning the answer to these questions, we have stumbled on an answer to the initial question of what to call Southside Abbey.  What we have hoped to be, what we are longing to be, what we will strive to be is the local embodiment of the Beloved Community here in our neighborhood and city.  This is a term used by many of our heroes in the faith – most notably, the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.  The Rev Dr King spoke of the Beloved Community as that group of Christians and followers-of-Jesus and even those who do not know the Lord, bound together to work and live out the Gospel’s promise and challenge of nonviolent reconciliation and healing.  That’s a tall order, no doubt, but it is surely Southside Abbey’s calling. 

So, by God’s grace and with the help of our friends and neighbors, Southside Abbey will continue to live into our calling as the Beloved Community in Chattanooga’s Southside . . . (and THE EVENT SPACE ON ROSSVILLE can keep the name, THE CHURCH ON MAIN).

Fishing Together

The way the Church has historically done outreach ministry is embodied in the familiar adage: Give a person a fish and he or she eats for a day; teach a person to fish and he or she eats for a lifetime. Through the Middle Ages the Church was in the business of handing out proverbial – and sometimes literal – fish. In many pre-Modern places the Church still functions this way, giving out bread or other staples. The rise of Modernity saw the Church shift to the model of teaching people to fish: creating or staffing agencies to help people help themselves.

I don't want to downplay this important work, as these models have served countless people, but they are prone to the danger of thinking that the Church has a monopoly on fish or on the knowledge of fishing. The Church after Modernity might just have to be in the business of fishing with people.

Fishing with people is necessarily contextual, in many ways relying upon the hospitality of those we are called to serve. It engages us with those in our communities, opening our eyes to the work of the Holy Spirit that is already happening there. Fishing together fosters relationship, which changes all who participate. There is no longer a one-way exchange of stuff “we” have and “they” need.

Thrust into these crashing waves we realize that there are ways to fish of which the Church has not yet dreamed. Moreover, some areas of the Church hunger for the fish that only can be provided by the men and women already fishing outside the Church's walls. Even fishing experts (read: Church professionals) can learn something from getting out there and being open to the experience of others. Jesus taught the fishermen Peter, James, and John something about fishing even though that was not Jesus' vocation.

The Church needs these new ways to fish. Some parishes might simply need the fish. Have I stretched the metaphor too far? You bet, but there is some urgency as the Holy Spirit is out there, at work in the world. It is time to get on board. To stretch the metaphor just a little more, perhaps it is time to disembark, to get off our boats (our naves) to wade in the water, and cast our nets with those who are already neck-deep, trying to catch fish any way they can.

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on August 7, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.