I have this scene that plays like an old-fashioned film strip in my head. It’s the early 1950s. The leadership of a Mainline Protestant church somewhere in an ordinary suburban setting has gathered to deal with a new problem: so many people; so many families. Churches that dotted the main square of many an American town found themselves at the time with a burgeoning membership. Post-WW 2 created renewed vigor in communities and community institutions, like churches. Individuals and families were eager to participate, to be a part of institutions that were perceived to strengthen individuals and thereby, communities in general.

In my imaginary film strip, black and white and little grainy, there is that group of church leaders, trying to figure out what to do with all of the new people, all of the new interest. I can almost hear one of them saying out loud something along the lines of, “It doesn’t feel right to have people just come to worship on Sunday mornings. That’s simply doesn’t allow adequate participation. How will they feel a sense of belonging?” They consider. They brainstorm. Finally, one of them utters, breathlessly and excitedly, “What about . . . . committees!”

For many local Mainline Protestant churches that grew by leaps and bounds in the 1950s and 1960s, that little film strip in my head imagines a flourishing of committees, and other church-associated groups. In addition to a Board of Deacons and a Board of Trustees (and a church Council). the great new ideas for committees and groups probably included things like Christian education, youth, missions and outreach, women’s activities, flowers/beautification, etc, etc.

The line-up of slots likely grew to more than a page or two, and created another sort of committee— the nominations committee—to fill all of those slots year after year.

Then all of those committees became so embedded in the life of the church that they sort of became the church, as if without them, the church would lose its identity, its sense of mission, its connection to the holy. It’s as if Jesus said, “And, above all, the most important thing for my followers, is to go out and be on a committee! And, when a committee is full, create a new one! Until the whole world is populated by people on committees! What a wondrous and God-like thing that would be!”

As local Mainline Protestant churches have declined (the process starting not long after they grew), one of the most difficult aspects for congregations of those who were/are left has been committees— all of those slots to fill with fewer people; prioritizing certain committees over others; hounding people, especially poor newcomers, to join a committee, or two, or three; reflecting on the meaning and purpose of at least some of the committees; wondering if it’s okay to have fewer of them, to consolidate or even completely re-imagine how to get church work done.

When Old South went through its major restructuring, a decade ago, we reduced our long list of committees to one single voting/governing/action committee, along with ministry teams. It wasn’t an easy process, but most people were ready for a change. It was so painful, year after year, to turn to the same list of committees and boards and wonder how it was going to be filled out with names instead of empty lines. When I proposed that we not only reduce, but seriously reduce the number of committees and, at the same time, reconsider what we do and why, a series of very interesting discussions ensued. It was fascinating to listen to the variety of responses and perspectives. For a few people, reducing the number of committees seemed like a betrayal of those who had gone before. For a couple of others, a reduction meant that we were “giving up,” when we should instead be waiting and watching for that magical day when people started streaming back into churches.

In the end, we made the big switch. While the new structure hasn’t solved all of our issues with committees and boards (the one governing board sometimes gets so focused on physical plant issues that it can feel like we just kept the Board of Trustees and got rid of everything else), we are now much more “right-sized,” and there’s a much clearer sense that we are not just a community of people completely driven by what’s worked in the past. People who are part of Old South are encouraged to find ways of participating in our life and ministry together, without also having to get signed up to attend monthly meetings.

One of the most significant developments and realities of how we gather together is that there’s much more openness to participation, an encouragement to share gifts and talents and to explore new gifts. This isn’t to say that we always encounter a great eagerness to be involved. There are some Sundays, and some tasks, that offer a bit of challenge. And, it can be daunting to find ways for new people to get involved when there’s no neat set of committee slots. Instead, we have learned to interact with people, to encourage involvement in ways that seem to connect with their interests, while also providing paths for people to help us learn more about them and their interests.

There are plenty of things that must get done in the local church. For Congregationalists, it’s important that we share those duties— from various worship-related functions (greeting, helping to turn on lights, serving communion, reading the weekly psalm, etc.) to ministry teams that provide space for problem solving, guidance and creativity (worship and mission/outreach) to various maintenance projects outside the realm of the sexton. To deal with all of these, Old South has the Sign Up, an open sign up process (online and in paper form for Sunday mornings). I’ll address that subject next time.

When it comes to committees, it’s been profoundly important for our small community to engage with what works now, to find release from the dictates and expectations of the past (especially a past that was actually a short blip, rather than an epic era), and to be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit that guides us in being a community of faith, rather than a museum of what used to be.