Where Have All the Organists Gone?

Posted on September 5, 2015 by smaxreisert

At Old South, we are in search of a new organist/choir director. Our search is now several months old. In the first round, we had only a few applicants and only two that we thought were good candidates for Old South. One of two, though, lives very far away and it seemed an unreasonable cost to cover travel expenses for an in-person interview, especially for such a small church that could offer not much in terms of compensation. The other organist lives much closer and is a talented musician and a promising candidate, but ended up turning the job down because of the commute involved, which is especially difficult in the winter.

We are back to square one, although it feels like we are actually even further back than that. In our quest, we—a fairly well-connected little search committee—have spoken to, reached out to, emailed, phoned, etc, etc, every possible person who might be able to give us a lead on a potential candidate. And, now we are discovering that it’s almost impossible to find an organist in central Maine.  We are not alone.  We’ve actually learned that there are very few active organists in our area.

It probably shouldn’t be any surprise. The church, while it was lulled into complacency with an organist and choir director who served well for about a dozen years, missed out on what’s been happening “out there”: the steep decline in church organists. Not just in central Maine. Everywhere. Back in 1997, the Los Angeles Times published an article, “Churches Suffer Notable Shortage of Organists.” The article pointed to low pay and the lack of full-time jobs as the primary reasons why young people stay away from the profession, leaving a vacuum where older organists have retired.  The organist is a species in the midst of extinction.

What’s even more worrying is the dearth in the numbers of pianists as well. As we have discovered, when we thought to call around for a possible pianist who might be willing to learn the organ, pianists are just about as hard to find as organists.

What’s a good church, with a small but enthusiastic and talented choir, to do?

It’s another piece of the decline of the church.

At Old South, we are fortunate in this extended season of searching to enjoy the talents and gifts of a former organist and choir director who’s been willing to fill in for a while.  Though we know he won’t stay forever.  Now, we face some choices:

  1. We can bury our heads in the sand and keep up the search as if it’s only a little bad luck that has kept us from finding someone so far;
  2. We can commit ourselves to feeling sorry for ourselves, as if some wayward organist may find it in their heart to take pity on us; or,
  3. We can continue our search, while we also opening ourselves to the movement of the Holy Spirit, and a whole new way of thinking about music in our worshipping.  Maybe it’s time to do something different with our music.

I realize that #3 is not what we want, and if we were something like an “organ club” perhaps it would be time to declare our mission over and done. But, we are not an “organ club,” we are a church. And, the church has learned over the years—sometimes kicking and screaming—that changes are not only necessary, but they are the way that God works.

I hope it won’t come to “kicking and screaming,” but that we will discover, through God’s grace, a new openness and awareness that God does indeed work in mysterious ways and there might just be some new and wonderful way for us do music. After all, there’s nothing in the Bible that states that an organ is a requirement for singing, or for making a joyful noise.

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A Partially Unwrapped Gift

Posted on August 29, 2015 by smaxreisert

I don’t remember who suggested it first. It was at a church budget meeting, a few years ago, and we were analyzing the church budget, trying to figure out what we could cut or trim at a time when it felt like we had already cut and trimmed everything to bare bones status. At some point, a suggestion was offered: to eliminate the “supply” line, the line that funded payment to other ministers who filled in for me on my vacation Sundays.

What did the suggestion mean? No more vacation for me? No. The suggestion continued: could we rely on church volunteers to lead worship for those Sundays when the minister is away?

We tried it and cut that line on the budget. Saving money turned out to be just the beginning of this great idea.

Since we cut the funding for supply pastors, I’ve had almost no trouble at all filling my vacation Sundays. This year has been especially impressive. I not only have my four regular vacation Sundays, plus two additional (to help balance my three-quarter time schedule), but there have been another four Sundays of sabbatical time. So far, all of my “away” Sundays have been filled by Old South people (with only two more Sundays to go—one in September and another in November).

This is a remarkable testament to the life of Old South. Not only do we have a variety of people—amid a small congregation— willing to lead worship, but we also have a few parishioners who come specifically on those Sundays when a layperson is leading—to support them, to encourage them, and to satisfy a curiosity of what new insights might be offered and gained. Thankfully, we also have a retired American Baptist pastor in the congregation who eagerly covers a Sunday or two.

The stories that the worship leaders share with me—as well as those in the congregation—reflect a sense of new connection and insight, a heightened awareness of faith and the presence of the Holy Spirit. It’s all good, and interesting.

I can’t help it, though. I want more.

It’s wonderful, and humbling, to have people who are willing to lead worship. It is something to behold in wonder, appreciation and awe.

But, it feels like a gift only partially unwrapped, partially given.

I’d like to see a greater willingness and ease in sharing faith and connection to church outside of church, outside of worship. Then, the gift might be more fully realized and offered.

It is truly wonderful to have people who are willing to wrestle with a Bible passage, and to consider their own theological journey. And, then to get in front of a group of people, use a microphone and speak. It’s something that I certainly don’t want to take for granted.

But, the sharing of faith, of connection to God, of love of church, cannot simply remain contained in that worship space, shared only in that familiar, comfortable setting. Now that we know that there’s a willingness to lead worship—by at least a few—I hope that we can find a way to move our courageous spirit outside the doors of our beautiful church.

And, to share—out there. In the community. In our families. You know, like those early followers did. Let’s unwrap the gift in all of its wonder and glory.

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I Am Not on Vacation!

Posted on August 22, 2015 by smaxreisert

I’m on sabbatical this month. Although the pace and nature of my working is a lot different than when I’m not on sabbatical, I’ve had to make something of an effort to make it clear that I’m not on vacation. It doesn’t help that there are a few clergy colleagues in the Maine Conference who have taken more “vacation-like” sabbaticals, with time spent with family and friends rather than with ministry-related activities.

But, I am working. My main project is to try to organize this blog. I’ve printed off every entry—quite a stack—and have sorted and re-sorted, read and re-read, trying to find a way of organizing them all into a few neat-ish categories. This is a bigger project than I envisioned, but I’m hopeful that I’ll most, if not all, of it will be done by the end of the month.

I’m also visiting, and chatting, with other churches and church people. On my first Sunday without worship leadership responsibilities, though, I did what lots of other people do where I live, and I didn’t go to church. I went to the local farmers’ market instead. It was a beautiful early August Sunday. And, the place to be was the farmers’ market in Belgrade Lakes Village. People were everywhere. Cars lined the street.

As my husband, son, and I wandered around, from one end of the village to the other, spending some time at the market in between, I found myself wondering if this was really enough. It’s social, to be sure, and helpful in boosting the local economy and all that. But, is it enough? Enough to satisfy spiritual hunger? Enough to bring meaning, connect people both to their own selves as well as a larger context?

Last Sunday, I went to worship at the largest UCC church in Maine. The worship experience did not disappoint. I’ll admit that part of the appeal was the opportunity to be in a big sanctuary with a large group of people (it may have been a small summer crowd to the regulars, but to me, it was a sizeable congregation). I grew up in a large, suburban Boston congregation. I sometimes miss that full sanctuary, large group feeling.

The associate pastor at the church had just returned from a three-month sabbatical, and preached on what he had done, which nicely seemed to be meaningfully connected to his calling as a pastor. And, he managed to talk about his journey in a way that invited the congregation into some of the insights he had gained in his travels and experiences.

I may not be in the office, but I’m not on vacation. I hope that the work that I’m doing will prove to be valuable not to just for myself, but also for the congregation I serve. It’s been a good thing to review my thoughts that I’ve shared through this blog, and to reflect further on what lessons may be gleaned from them. Active ministry can be like running a marathon—you just keep going and going, without taking time to appreciate one’s surroundings, without reflecting deeply and meaningfully on where one has been. Ministry, though, should involve more reflective time—especially now, when the landscape is considerably different than it was just a short time ago, even as it continues to change.

My goal this month is not just to gaze longingly at the past, but to slow down and spend some significant time in pondering, thinking about where we have been and where we might be headed, considering how the Holy Spirit has shown itself to be in our midst—and where the Holy Spirit may be pointing us. Such pondering is hard to do when the phone is ringing and one’s “to do” list seems a mile long. So, I am grateful for this time, and for the fruit of this very different sort of labor.

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What Is Worship?

Posted on August 14, 2015 by smaxreisert

“If there’s no music, people won’t come.” That was the declaration. The conversation was about worship and, more precisely, what we are going to do about music next summer. The assessment: no music; no people.

At Old South, we are in the midst of a search for a new organist. In order to make the feeble salary that we are offering seem a little more reasonable, we made the position a September through June position. When we made the plan, we didn’t figure out exactly what we would do about next July and August (and the following summers). We’ll talk about that at budget time in the fall.

Already, though, there is concern about next summer. “If there’s no music, people won’t come,” was announced and left hanging in the tense air between the speaker and myself. The sentiment was not unknown to me. I’ve heard similar decrees several times over my decade of ministry at Old South. But, still, each time I hear it, it feels like a slap across the face.

What is worship? What is worship without music? What is worship without spoken word, without the Bible, without some sort of lesson, interpretation of scripture story, without prayer, without silence?

Don’t get my wrong. Music is important to me too. Many of my best worship memories have something to do with music. But, with no music, would it really feel like no worship at all? With no music, would the congregation stay away?

As we deal with the many questions and challenges of being the church in these days, it seems to me that one of our greatest challenges is make sure we focus not just on certain components of worship, but on the worship experience as a whole. Worship must not become something of a “concert” or a recital, with a few words strung in between. Worship is the place for prayer and praise. It is the place to learn and explore what it means to be God’s people—individually and collectively. It is the place to hear scripture story, and to consider who we are in the ongoing narrative of God and God’s people. It is the place to listen for God’s voice in our lives, and to speak the language of prayer and wonder.

Music is important, to be sure, but it ought not be set upon a pedestal, the one thing without which we cannot go on. When we place music above everything else, we set music as the object of our worship, instead of God.

The elements of worship point to that which is part of us, but also beyond us. It’s okay to be fretful when we are unsure about how one element will be expressed and offered, but we must strive to keep our fretfulness in perspective, and not to allow it to distort our perceptions, or to close ourselves off from the movement of the Spirit in our midst.

I can’t imagine that we won’t be able to come up with a reasonable plan for music next summer. But, even if we have some difficulties, I feel confident that we will find a way to sing and to offer a joyful noise in worship. Our faith will lead us there, if we trust in the One who brings us together.

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Getting Out of the Bubble

Posted on August 7, 2015 by smaxreisert

In the minor news this week is the continuing drama of Caitlyn Jenner, whose “docu-series” is currently showing on E!. The second episode of the series was shown this past Sunday and featured, among other things, Jenner’s more conservative, Republican views, especially as they clashed headlong into the views and opinions of her new transgender friends.

In a follow up to the show, Jenny Boylan, a college professor and transgender activist who appears on the show, declared that Jenner can be just as conservative as she wishes to be, but that the transgender community is concerned about how well she will fare as the community’s most visible spokesperson. Boylan further shared with the world the following:   “my best friend on the Colby faculty is probably its most conservative member.”

When I read this, I couldn’t help but gasp a little. In that statement, Boylan is talking about my husband, Joseph. Joe is indeed a conservative, and is certainly among a small group of conservative faculty members at Colby College in Waterville, Maine. In reading Jenny’s comment, I felt kind of exposed and vulnerable. Would some random media person show up on our door step, desperate to meet not only this “conservative” friend of a transgender activist, but a conservative who has actually been “outted” as a conservative and still manages to maintain employment at a liberal New England college?

Joe and I have been friends with Jenny Boylan, and her wife Deedie, for many years, since even before we knew of Jenny. Jenny and Deedie are among our closest, dearest friends. What an interesting foursome we make. Three women and one man. Two college professors, one social worker, one clergyperson. One goes to church some of the time, two all of the time, and one never. One activist, one loving spouse, two supportive, married friends.   Two sets of parents to wonderful children (who are smart, interesting, and talented, of course).  Sounds like the basis of a crazy sitcom script that gets dumped in the trash for being completely unbelievable.

Yet, there it is.

When I think about our friendship, I am aware that ours is not a typical group, in several different ways. And, that’s a shame. It seems common now and “normal” to be friendly only with those who share one’s own beliefs and opinions. This happens in so many aspects of our lives. Groups of friends and even congregations tend to be places where there is a strong current of shared attitude and opinion.

There is much to be gained, however, by gathering and seeking friendships with people of differing views and life experiences. There’s something to be said for learning about other points of view as well as having one’s own opinions tested.

It’s not always easy to maintain such friendships. There are times when lines are crossed, when something unintentionally hurtful is said or done. But, we learn from those experiences as well. Under it all, is a deep well of the important things that we do have in common, in our shared values—respect, the significance of the family, a good sense of humor, love of life (with good eating and drinking, of course), and the desire to make this world a better place than we found it.

In I Am Cait, it is clear that Caitlyn Jenner has much to learn about her new community, and about those who have walked this journey, more anonymously and more dangerously. The question will be whether or not this “docu-series” can not only help people learn about the range of experiences of those who are transgender, but can also help open up new paths of conversation and openness to the wondrous variety of life, transgender and otherwise. As we are already discovering, the transgender “community” is not a monolith. Nor should it be.  In that range of experience and expression, there should be respect, an openness to articulate why and how one believes what one believes, and a desire to listen to and learn from others.

Caitlyn Jenner has been encouraged to get out of the “bubble” of her own making, to listen and learn from others, to share of herself and her experience, to deepen her understanding, and to grow as a person. That’s good advice for everyone.

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When They Don’t Come to Us

Posted on August 1, 2015 by smaxreisert

Old Hallowell Day is a big deal in this little city just south of the state capital. Every year, on the third Saturday of July, Hallowell swells with, it seems, just about everyone who was born here or ever lived here. At the Saturday morning parade, local dignitaries, including the “Citizen of the Year,” along with local businesses, organizations and neighborhoods, and the usual fire trucks, slowly make their way down Water Street with large crowds of people on both sides of the street. In this small, mostly sleepy, kind of place, it’s quite the sight.

Like many other organizations in town, Old South tries to find some way of making its own mark over the course of the weekend. This year, we decided to march in the parade and then to do something we’ve never done before: hold an open house in the sanctuary building for a few hours in the middle of the day. We gathered a few volunteers to greet visitors and we served refreshments.

For me, this seemed a great idea. It was not too great of an effort for our small church. Plus, it was a good way to feel that we were taking part in an important day in the community. I wasn’t expecting any huge crowd, but I thought it likely draw some old friends who wanted to visit—just what Old Hallowell Day is all about.

During the course of the open house, though, I discovered that the others who were helping out with the event had grander ideas. Perhaps people who have been harboring a curiosity about Old South would now feel that they could visit, and then they might want to come to worship. Perhaps our open doors would attract newcomers who were looking for a new church.

During the course of the three-hour event, we had a slow, but steady stream of visitors. Many of the small groups that came were led by someone who had gone to Sunday School years ago. That person had long since moved away, but was eager to show off the church to family members and friends.

The few volunteers who helped out that day were disappointed. There were no clear new visitors who would soon join us for worship.

This is part of the problem for old mainline churches like Old South. We still have that old sense that just the right program, the right event, will turn the tide, and will attract new people. We just need to keep trying and at some point, the miracle will happen. Everything will change. And we’ll be saved from having to do the work that we don’t really want to do, the work that makes us squirm: evangelism.

The basic fact is that there is no one event, no one program, that will change anything. The basic fact is that the old mainline must stop thinking that people will somehow start to figure out that they want to come to church. Instead, those within the old mainline, like Old South, must figure out how to go out—out into the community, out into the neighborhoods. And, still be the church—sharing the love of God, responding to needs, bringing hope and love.

We must stop thinking that there’s some magic thing that will get people to come to us. Rather, we must be willing to go out, taking Christ with us, allowing Christ to lead us.

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Let Me Entertain You?

Posted on July 20, 2015 by smaxreisert

Last month, I attended the bat mitzvah service for the daughter of a close friend. As we were assembling at the synagogue, another good friend came in and sat down with us. I noticed that she was alone, so I asked about her spouse. Well, the spouse wasn’t coming. The last visit to a synagogue (a different synagogue, for a bar mitzvah service of the son of yet another friend in our circle about six months ago) had been a real disappointment. It was too long and boring, she said.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard such a complaint. Religious services can be long, and on the dull side. I’ll admit that I myself was taken aback by that bar mitzvah service six months ago, when we received advance “warning” from the family to expect the service to last up to three hours.  A three-hour service does seem like a lot—though, on the plus side, it gave me something to say to my own congregation when they grumble when worship goes over an hour.

But, still, I found myself thinking about that “long and boring” remark. Is it okay to criticize a religious service—especially a kind of a service that one rarely attends—because it’s not entertaining enough?

And, I’ve wondering about the “entertainment” angle for worship at Old South as well. Does our dwindling attendance have something to do with our lack of entertainment value?

A couple of months ago, I was talking to a parishioner who told me that his adult daughter is now regularly attending another church in the area. More precisely, she’s attending one of those churches where the minister leads the service while dressed in very casual clothing and there’s a band that plays the music—mostly rock and praise music—and there’s a big screen to display various visuals.

It’s more entertaining than worship at Old South.

“That’s what the young people want,” my parishioner shared with me. But, in even beginning to suggest that we at Old South try something similar, a frown and worried look appeared—and not just for this one particular parishioner. Whenever someone asks me about why we can’t have a full parking lot like that “other” church in town, I suggest that we try what they do. I can start wearing jeans to lead worship. We can gather up a band and have some Christian rock and praise music. We can invest in a big screen for visuals (though it’s hard to know where we would put it).

I don’t get very far before I’m shut down. You’re not really suggesting we do that, the look on their faces suggests. I must admit that I don’t really want to do that either, but those churches in our area that focus more attention on the entertainment angle of worship do appear to have more people in worship on a regular basis—and younger people too.

In a culture and society where entertainment is everywhere, where people are almost constantly able to tap into some form of diversion, it’s no wonder that people look for the same in worship. Those of us who wish to focus differently may certainly do so—there’s nothing biblical about the rightness of one way over the other—but we must also be aware that our choices have consequences.

It’s highly unlikely that we are going to convince people, especially younger people, that our way is a better way, and that there’s more to worship than entertainment. We cannot continue to do what we do, and think that somehow everyone else will change. So, continuing to do worship in our own way, the way that has value to us, is completely fine—just as long as we recognize that there are consequences. And, those consequences likely involve even more shrinking. We shouldn’t fool ourselves into thinking that it could be something else, like a happy Hollywood ending.

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You Can’t DIY Everything

Posted on July 9, 2015 by smaxreisert

One of my “younger” parishioners (just a bit older than I am)—I’ll call him Henry— came to chat with me a couple of weeks ago. Part of our conversation included the sharing of information regarding yet another Old South member—“Sally.” Henry had run into Sally and they chatted about several things, including Old South. Sally rarely attends worship anymore, although she was a very active member until about eight years ago.

These two people are in a category of people who cause me a lot of worry. They are Baby Boomers whose children have grown and left the house. And, somehow that has translated into a sense of uncertainty about how church fits into their lives. In this case, Henry still feels that church is important, while Sally has drifted away.

Henry had a few things to talk about when he came by to chat, but when he brought up Sally, he mentioned that he had asked her why she didn’t attend worship anymore. Sally replied that she has discovered that she doesn’t need church to be a good Christian.

Without getting angry or harsh, I let Henry know that it is my strong feeling and opinion that you can’t really be a Christian if you don’t go to church, or at least have some significant connection to an organized Christian community (like Bible study). Any person can be a good person, an ethical person, a spiritual person even. But, you can’t be a Christian if you don’t go to church.

As a good progressive/liberal, I don’t subscribe to a whole lot of absolutes, but of this I am sure: a Christian can’t be a Christian without going to church, or being a part of some kind of Christian community. That’s just the way it is. It’s how this whole Christian thing works.

Community is essential to the Christian faith, not a nice extra if you’ve got the time. The Christian faith is to be lived and shared with others, in a practicing way. It is through worship and prayer and study—and even the occasional meeting (!)—that we learn and grow in faith. We simply cannot “Do It Yourself.” A DIY faith is one-dimensional, stilted, self-centered.

In and through church and worship, we explore and practice the faith. We learn about the Bible, and struggle with lessons that are both easy and difficult to understand. We reach out to others, and discover the realities of what it means to love one’s neighbor as oneself. In a church like Old South, where different kinds of people gather with different life experiences and political persuasions, we learn critical lessons about what it means to be a Christian community, by listening and speaking and through wondrous moments of silence. Where two or three are gathered, there is where Christ is as well. We experience this reality in and through church, worship and community.

Through the sharing of the sacraments as well, we are invited into a sacred and holy space. We experience the grace of God in a unique way.

DIY is good for some things in life, like home renovations, but it just doesn’t work for good Christian faith and practice. I know that it can be a challenge to reorient oneself when a significant aspect of one’s reason for going to church is no longer present (like when the kids grow up). It can also be a challenge to be in the midst of different people with different ideas and different ways of wanting to do things. And, it certainly can be a challenge to go to worship on Sunday mornings, when lots of your friends and family are doing other things, or when it just seems like the perfect time to get a little extra sleep.

But, without Christian community, Sally shouldn’t be fooling herself. She can’t be a Christian without church.

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Roots in the Rainbow

Posted on June 27, 2015 by smaxreisert

On this day after a very big day, as I reflect on the SCOTUS decision in favor of marriage equality, I can’t help but consider what an amazing change that has taken place in this country in such a relatively short period of time.

When I was in college in the mid 1980s, I remember taking an English course that focused on the literature of gays and lesbians. It was a controversial course that was mocked by some members of the college community. It was also a course that included the telling of a few personal stories from members of the class. The instructor shared her experiences of harassment. A few students spoke in whispered tones about their own awareness of their homosexuality, and when it started. The straight students in the class, like myself, were sometimes very moved, and alarmed, at the stories that were told, of the lives lived in secret and the concerns of threats and violence.

Although things aren’t perfect, we live in a very different country—just thirty years later.

As we reflect on these changes, and as we also listen to a lot of chatter on the national stage, I suspect that there will be some references to the “Christian Church” lagging behind, and perhaps even being an impediment to this progress.

Except that that’s not entirely true. The United Church of Christ has long been an advocate for those on the margins, including the LBGTQ, etc. community.

In my many years of belonging to the United Church of Christ, twenty as an ordained clergyperson, it’s really been the commitment to the humanity of all—including the LBGTQ community—that has kept me in the denomination. Over the years, I can count a number of times when I have dangled on the edge, when something has made me want to run from the UCC, when something has made me so angry or when I have felt so disillusioned.  But I’ve stayed, mostly because of its long commitment to LBGTQ folk.

I’m not an LBGTQ person myself, but I have many friends who are, as well as parishioners. I can’t imagine being a part of a church that does not welcome and affirm all people. It’s also hard to imagine, for me, being a part of a denomination that has only recently changed its tune in this regard. It’s been significant to me to be a part of a church that adopted this open, welcoming and affirming view a long time ago, when it wasn’t popular, but oh so necessary to the life of the Church.

Ever since I took that English course at Colby College, I’ve felt connected to how important it is to recognize the humanity of all people, and the humanity of those who may at first seem different but who are really not so different. It’s important to recognize those who live on the margins, and to welcome them in—as Jesus did.

In the midst of all of the changes we are experiencing, I also hope that there will be a change in how we understand the “Church,” that the “Christian Church” will not be spoken of as one, single entity. And, not only that, that there will be some acknowledgment that some Christian churches have been right there in the middle of the struggle to bring about change, living out the love of the God we worship.

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Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

Posted on June 19, 2015 by smaxreisert

Darling you got to let me know

Should I stay or should I go?

If you say that you are mine

I’ll be here ’til the end of time

-The Clash

Last week, I read a blog post called “Letter to a Colleague (On Leaving the Parish)” by Peter Boullata, which I found through a link on RealClearReligion.com. In the post,  the Rev. Boullata writes about his departure from parish ministry to enter another form of ministry. His reasons are various, but include well-known doomsday predictions regarding religious affiliation as well as a sense of exhaustion at the demands of ministry in the twenty-first century struggling church.

I read the piece with a great deal of sadness, and knowing. It occurred to me a few years ago that I will likely not be able to continue to “do what I do” in parish ministry until I am ready to retire, especially if I continue to live where I live. I suspect all United Church of Christ churches in this part of Maine will, in the not too distant future, be unable to afford much clergy time at all, unless they are willing to dig deep into endowments, raise funds in non-traditional ways, employ bi-vocational clergy, or a combination of such options.

It is certainly true that parish work has become exhausting.  I particularly notice the exhaustion on Sundays when attendance is very low, especially when it’s not expected.  It can be quite challenging for me to put a smile on my face and deliver a hearty and enthusiastic “Isn’t It Great to Follow Jesus” message. It’s important to encourage the faithful remnant, but it feels like we have “faithful remnant” Sundays way more often than when I first came to Old South ten years ago. And what’s happening at Old South is happening at other churches in the area. One local UCC church closed about seven years ago.

It’s not simply about numbers. After all, I’ve been preaching for several years now that we shouldn’t be so focused on the numbers, that churches with full parking lots are not necessarily “doing it right.” Our lives as Christians must be about more. Our lives must be about faithfulness to the Gospel, even if it turns out that there are not a lot of people where we live who want to join us. But, still, the struggle, the wondering, the disillusionment, and the disappointment (for me and the congregation) take a toll.

Every once in a while, my husband asks if I’ll be the one to turn the lights out at Old South. This is a question I never dreamed of thinking about when I was ordained twenty years ago. But, now I think about it. I wonder if I have it in me to venture to that place, and be the one to shepherd a congregation to its end—or at least to a sale or closure of its building (it would be nice to think that they could continue on, perhaps as a house church). I also wonder if I should figure out how to get out soon so I don’t have to be that person.

The studies and the polls show what we know and experience in Central Maine. It’s a hard place to be church, especially the liberal, progressive kind.

Yesterday, I read a summary of a talk given by Nadia Bolz-Weber, at the annual meeting of the Massachusetts Conference United Church of Christ. In her talk on the “postmodern church,” Bolz-Weber is reported to have said that “people shouldn’t take the Pew Research Center surveys showing fewer people are attending church to mean that they don’t care about Christianity anymore. That would be like saying because there are no phone booths, no one cares about talking on the phone anymore, or because there are no more Blockbuster stores, no one cares about being able to watch movies at home, she said.” (http://www.macucc.org/newsdetail/1346475)

Rev. Bolz-Weber obviously hasn’t been to Maine. From my vantage point in this part of the world, there are fewer people who care about Christianity (see my post from last week). I also look around and realize that many of my friends and acquaintances don’t participate in any organized religious activity. For the few that do, they are either Jewish or Unitarian. I have friends who were once practicing Christians, but they aren’t anymore, and  I’ve noticed that they no longer talk to me about thinking that they ought to go back to church.

The tide continues to turn. It’s time to start thinking seriously about whether or not I have it in me to do what I never imagined doing, in shepherding a church to its end (or to a radical change in how it gathers) or whether it’s time to think about doing something else.

But, so far at least, there’s really nothing else I can imagine doing. Plus, I like Old South, its people and its community.

It’s not that I think it’s all about giving up.  We must continue to evangelize, while we also think seriously about the realities that surround us.

If I do end up staying, I just hope that I’ll have it in me to finish the marathon—because that’s what it will be—and will include joyful moments as well as plenty of grueling moments of discomfort and pain. (Is there some kind of morphine we can take?) And, the exhaustion. Like Peter Boullata, that’s probably what I fear the most. It’s bad enough that I get more tired more easily now anyway, in all aspects of my life, but to live my life as a mind-numbingly exhausted clergyperson, that’s not good for anyone. So, let’s pray for the wisdom to know—before it’s too late.

 

 

 

 

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