Apologetics

In the Chapel of the Good Shepherd at the General Theological Seminary, where a great deal of my formation as a priest took place, the walls are carved with the names of the multitude of professors who taught over the course of nearly two centuries. Their names are categorized by the disciplines on which they held forth. Indicative of an institution that began forming priests within a couple of decades of the Continental Congress, some of the descriptions of those disciplines sound strange to 21st century ears.

Chief among them is the discipline of Apologetics. In the last century or so, the traditional use of this word “apologetics” has been nearly completely taken over by the word apology, as in to tell someone that you have done them wrong in the hopes of reconciliation. Unfortunately, this sense of apology is reflective of a majority of mainline Christians in the United States––that is, we act as if we have to apologize for being Christian. (here I believe that this feeling is related to, but still distinct from what has been done in the name of Christ)

In fact, the use of this term “apologetics” has more to do with an explanation of why one believes. This, now this, is something that every follower of Jesus should be prepared to do. In the words of of 1 Peter, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.”

It is with this intent that a couple of books were published this past year. One of them is My Church Is Not Dying, by Greg Garrett. The other is Convictions: How I Learned What Matters Most, by Marcus Borg. Both are written by men who are university professors, Garrett at Baylor University, Borg, who died a few months ago, retired from Oregon State University. Interestingly, both grew up in other Christian traditions more conservative in their approach to scripture. This informs a great deal about why they found the Episcopal Church and what it offers us as we tell others about what we have been gifted with in this tradition.

Greg Garrett took a decidedly 21st century approach to his book, My Church is Not Dying. Part personal narrative, part theological exposition, part nuts-and-bolts explanation, in addition to his own story, Garrett reached out to other Episcopalians on Facebook and through other means to ask for testimonials about why people have found themselves in an Episcopal church and what keeps them there. This is a book that people who have already found their way in can enjoy. It covers the basics about the Anglican approach in an informal, conversational style but is grounded in one basic premise: that there is a great future ahead for the Episcopal Church. Because of our understanding of scripture, our emphasis on common prayer and our core corporate practices Garrett sees hope for the decades to come. He is aware that change will need to take place in order for the Episcopal Church to respond to the current cultural climate but feels that the our heritage and direction have us poised to do so.

Though Marcus Borg has a somewhat different intent in his book, Convictions, there is a similar sense to his apologetic. This is his last book before his death this past year and it serves as a final word on his beliefs. Like Garrett, Borg found his way into the Episcopal Church as an adult. For his scholastic life, however, he was drawn to New Testament studies and he collaborated for decades with John Dominic Crossan, opening up a new way into the scriptures for scores of readers.

This book comes out of a set of classes and sermons that Borg wrote for the Episcopal congregations that he attended in Portland and Bend, Oregon. It is grounded in the notion that Divinity Is, that we humans are only mostly accurate in our recording of encounters with the Divine, and that to be a follower of Jesus the Christ is to connect our believing––or be-loving in his words––with the everyday world. These will be familiar themes for those who have read Marcus Borg’s work over the years, but what makes this book unique is that he connects his own narrative to why these themes became so important for him personally.

Unlike My Church is Not Dying, Convictions was not written explicitly so that others would draw close to the Episcopal Church though Borg’s approach is so thoroughly Anglican, it might just serve to do so. But this was one of those books that as I was reading, I kept thinking of people who would enjoy it, find it meaningful. In that way, it serves as an excellent apologetic: through reading Borg’s story and his thoughtful approach to spirituality, scripture and personal and communal ethics, one is drawn in to a way of encountering life that takes stock of what is and gives hope to what might be.

My own hope is that we are able to draw on stories like these at All Souls as we prepare to tell our stories to others. Because one of the clear and consistent themes for both Garrett and Borg is that we have all been given a tremendous gift in the heritage, foundations and practice of the Episcopal Church. There are many whose lives will be enriched by coming close to God in this way we have found. But they will only know about this “best kept secret” if someone (say, you and me) tells them.

Peace,

Phil+

A Healthy Body, part 2

In my previous post, I wrote about what health might look like in a Christian community, or really, in any community. Balance and integrity (striving to remain whole) are at the core of an organization’s health and the processes that promote this are the focus of attention. But what are those processes? To get at this, in his book Healthy Congregations, Peter Steinke uses the work of Edgar Jackson and Andrew Weil, and applies it to what it means for a group of people in enduring relationship with one another.

To this end, he uses principles that are often applied to the human body and sees how they might then be applied to human communities. They are the “Ten Principles of Health and Disease”, which are below. I’ll look at each in turn.

Ten Principles of Health and Disease

1. Wholeness is not attainable. (But it can be approximated.)
2. Illness is the necessary complement to health. (It is alright to be sick, feel burdened and be down.)
3. The body has innate healing abilities. (No one can give you––or the congregation––what you don’t already have.)
4. Agents of disease are not causes of disease. (All disease processes are enabled.)
5. All illness is biopsychological. (Wow! Everything is connected.)
6. The subtle precedes the gross. (Early detection is the best treatment.)
7. Every body is different. (There’s no universal treatment for every organism––or congregation)
8. A healthy circulatory system is the keystone of health and healing. (Feedback systems promote health.)
9. Breathing properly is nourishing to the whole body. (The Spirit must be active among the members the Body of Christ.)
10. The brain is the largest secreting organ of the body, the health maintenance organization (HMO) of the body. (The mind converts ideas into biochemical realities.)

1. Wholeness is not attainable.

Our bodies are never “perfectly healthy.” We are always holding something off, healing something, needing nourishment. Just as it is in our bodies, in our communities, there is always a balance at play, where illness and healing are happening. There is no completely “whole” place. We are always preparing and responding. When reading the following sentence, though, the last year or so came into clearer focus, “Both organisms and organizations are more apt to become sick after major losses, disruptive events, and prominent changes.” Moving to a three service Sunday schedule, the departures of Kristin, Sara, these have been major events and it necessarily takes time to come back to homeostasis, “the capacity of an organism to keep its internal environment steady…its cooperative behavior. Health occurs when the body’s systems run smoothly and energy flows freely.”

2. Illness is the necessary complement to health.

Using this lens, Illness actually can be important to our health, as it builds immunity. Steinke uses the analogy of a vaccine, the introduction of a weakened virus so that the body can be alerted and practice. In this way, the internal and external challenges that are faced can serve (but don’t always serve) to strengthen the resilience of a body. “Conflict is inevitable, even essential, if resistance resources are to emerge. A community may strengthen or re-examine its sense of purpose…Health is 10 percent what happens and 90 percent how we respond.” No one wishes for dis-ease, but if the body is able to respond effectively, it is able to become stronger in the process.

3. The body has innate healing abilities.

Steinke writes, “Healing is self-regeneration. It comes from the inside, not the outside…There are no quick fixes obtained from anyone or anything external.” Physicians can help the process by removing obstacles or by increasing aspects, but it is the self-healing of the body that ultimately does the work. In a way, to look solely outside of one’s self is a forfeiture of responsibility. This is as true for individuals as it is for bodies and for groups. To some degree, the response must come from within. An outside influence can help the congregation build their inner resources. When Jim Richardson spent a year at All Souls as an Interim Rector, one of his consistent messages was that, “we have all that we needed.” It is as true now as it was then. The capacity of a community to heal is always present within itself.

4. Agents of disease are not causes of disease.

This is an interesting principle to me. I would probably slightly edit it to read, ‘Agents of disease are not the sole causes of disease,’ but I do understand what Steinke means when he writes, “All pathogens need a host cell to arouse the disease process.” One micro biologist has said that the virus is like a seed that will only sprout into disease is the “soil” is too weak to resist it. In that way, “strengthening the resistance of the host cells is paramount in treatment, rather than simply focusing on disease agents and counteracting them.” What this seems to say, then, is that viruses (like the poor) will always be with us. Because we are flawed creatures these pathogens will always be in the air. The focus shouldn’t be there, then. Instead the focus should be on the soil, the response to the potentially destructive behaviors.

5. All illness is biopsychological.

This principle points to connectedness. We finally seem to be recovering an understanding that the mind and the body are fundamentally connected. (Scientific reductionism wielded an unhelpful scalpel there) Studies are now uncovering the power of the well-being of the mind (heart/spirit?) being intimately connected to the well-being of the body. Yet we continue to disconnect them at our peril. Therefore, Steinke writes, “The health of a congregation is multi-faceted. Attitudes count. Working together counts. Faithfulness matters. Mood and tone are significant.” As with human individuals, vengeance and bitterness are the two most destructive emotions to a body, while gratitude is the most nourishing. What I have found in my time spent in churches large and small on this sabbatical is that one can tell the spirit of a congregation. It pervades the space. And it matters.

6. The subtle precedes the gross.

“Short of prevention, early treatment is the best treatment…Early warnings come from small disturbances.” This is wisdom for our bodies that is ancient and contemporary. It is why Kaiser Permanente, for all of its flaws, has the potential to positively effect huge portions of the population with its emphasis on prevention. Similarly, in a community, “If a problem or conflict is allowed to fester and swell, it becomes even more embedded and resistant to management.” Being able to catch something early is critical for all parts of the system. The pain is not as great for those in the conflict, the leadership doesn’t take on as much of the stress, and the energy needed to deal with the issue isn’t diverted for longer than necessary.

7. Every body is different.

Context and culture are often determinative in what will help heal a situation. Steinke points to changes over time that make a previous intervention not helpful the next time and that, “One person’s medicine can be another person’s poison.” This is why I believe that silver bullets don’t work––but look so appealing. A process or a program at one church is so tempting to use where you are because it worked there. But it worked there because of where that body is, at that time and place. Core principles and approaches can be adapted, but because they were developed in a system different than where you are, they must be examined for the present context.

8. A healthy circulatory system is the keystone of health and healing.

In this lens, disease is seen as the result of information blockage, as in, some part of the body is not being heard, the natural sets of balances are not being allowed for. One of the ways that this is facilitated is that, “In healthy congregations information flows freely.” My sense is this is because the only way to be able to address a situation in the toe or back or elbow is if you are in communication, listening for what is happening, what needs addressing. When you ignore or don’t actively seek out information, this is when the subtle turns into the gross.

9. Breathing properly is nourishing to the whole body.

This is a simple one for our physical bodies, but like in Christian communities, is is easily and often overlooked. Steinke writes, “Full, deep expansion of the lungs brings nourishment to the whole central nervous system.” He then talks about the ruach, the Spirit over the deep, and Jesus’ breathing over the apostles as scriptural patterns of this practice. It is no mistake as well, that there are several ancient and enduring prayer practices that involve breathing. Staying attuned to the Breath is one of the simpler and often overlooked practices of the body and the larger body.

10. The brain is the largest secreting organ of the body, the health maintenance organization (HMO) of the body.

In this way of knowing the health of our bodies, “To understand health is to understand the continual role of the brain in maintaining the resistance of the body.” Steinke then makes an interesting link when he writes, “Comparable to the brain’s functioning in the body is the functioning of the leaders in the congregation.” The leadership of a community plays a vital role in the maintenance of the resistance and functioning of a congregation. A large part of the responsibility for strategy resides there, yes, but also the tone, the attitude, the sense of spirit. It is the ultimate responsibility of the leadership, then, to be able to have the conversations, to take in the information of the system, and to give out the kind of information that keeps the system moving towards wholeness.

There is a a great deal more in this treatment by Steinke that I have found very interesting: around emotional maturity, the dangers of rigidity, and why differentiated behavior is critical to well-being. More in the weeks and months to come.

Peace,

Phil+

A Healthy Body, part 1

As you may know, over the last couple of months I’ve been studying what are the kinds of practices that keep communities vital: strong, resilient, alive. Much of this has been through reading books. Some of these books have been assigned reading from the College of Congregational Development, some recommended (or handed) to me, others books that I’ve been meaning to read for some time. They range from personal reflections to systematic approaches. But all of them speak to what happens when humans gather together and attempt to follow God.

Which is actually what Jesus was doing. Some of his teachings were specific and directive about communal practices for living. Matthew 18 is an example of this, in that Jesus gives us best practices for how to deal with conflict in a community once it arises. (because whenever two or three are gathered, there will be conflict) And others of Jesus’ teachings, like about prayer or forgiveness, are interpersonal yet have tremendous influence on how a community lives.

As I wrote about in my post about Benedictine practices, Christian communities have been working on the best ways to live together since we began to organize around the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. And these practices that we have developed, are developing, they are practices that can be used in any form of community––families, schools, businesses. As you read through these posts, bring to mind a community that you know well, with these understandings and principles as a lens.

The author and practitioner Peter Steinke has written a number of books over the years, but the one that I decided to spend time with was Healthy Congregations: A Systems Approach. What makes this book particularly interesting is not just that he approached common life in a “systems way”, that is, that all life is of a piece and that, “change in one part produces change in another part, even in the whole.” I’ve done a good bit of study in this way of understanding groups, but what I found especially interesting in this book is Steinke’s use of the human body and health as a metaphor.

This approach, as Steinke notes, is not original. It has been part of how humans have come to understand themselves for millennia. Jesus did this memorably when illuminating what defiles someone––what goes in the mouth or what comes out of it. St. Paul of Tarsus used the body as a metaphor extensively in his writings, especially in his first letter to the Corinthians in chapter 12, when he talks about the necessary relationship that exists in a body, like the members of our own bodies––foot, hand, eye, ear. As is often the case, when we better understand ourselves, the ways that we work, we can better understand others and the ways that we interact with those around us.

It is Steinke’s definition of health, though, that first caught my attention, for it is one that may be different than we are used to using. For Steinke, health is about having the system in balance, that the parts are working together, and that the system as a whole has integrity. It does not mean that we are free from illness. In fact in a following post, I will work with the ten principles of health in more detail and there Steinke, along with others, points to illness as a necessary complement to health. Rather, it means that when a system is in balance, our immune system does the work it needs to and that the system is able to live more closely to wholeness. Using this lens, “perfect health” looks different. Rather than a state of perfection, it is a constant and intentional process. We are always looking to the practices that sustain life in the body.

And, in a nuance that is very interesting to me, Steinke writes that, “Health is a resource for life, not the object for living.” In this understanding, it is our health and the practices that support us, that allow us to live, to really live. That is our purpose. Our health, for ourselves and for the communities that we are a part of, is a means to Life, rather than an end in and of themselves. This runs counter to much of the messaging that we absorb about health in ourselves and in our communities. Often what we are told is that our health is the end-goal. If, in fact, our health is the resource that we draw upon for full life, than this turns our perspective and ways to live. Instead of idolizing our body or someone else’s definition of a body, we are to live in ways that allow our bodies to be most alive.

What, then, might this mean for a group of people, a community founded on the life of Jesus? It seems to me that this points to consistent attention to practices that support each person’s wholeness, as well as the wholeness of the body. It will mean that the process of living, the “how” of what we do, each day and week and year, is as important, in fact likely more important than the substance of what we produce. Because the processes that we undertake fundamentally and necessarily affect all of the substance that we are.

What, then, might these processes be? That is the subject of my next post, what Steinke calls, “Ten Principles of Health and Disease.”

Peace,

Phil+

Time

Simply put, it is humbling to spend time in the Colorado Plateau. A geographic area that is found in the states of Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico (a state defined by the borders of the Plateau would make a lot more sense than the four corners we now have), it a geologic wonder. Created over hundreds of millions of years, it is comprised of layer upon layer of sedimentary rock. Thrust up by tectonic plate activity, these layers have been exposed over hundreds of thousands of years, chipped, carved, chasmed.

These sediments, pressed into rock, thrust up and cut away, now reveal the life and times of oceans, deserts, swamps, forests––then oceans, deserts, swamps, and forests again. When faced with a canyon wall, as in the Grand Canyon, or a hoodoo or an arch, it is a nearly overwhelming feeling to realize that the very place you are standing was once under a vast ocean, or in miles of desert, or was a swamp patrolled by the great Allosaurus.

In our hikes, we have come across 300 million year old sea sponges and shells, seen the tracks of dinosaurs, unbelievably frozen in time. This work of gathering and compressing, over millions of years is almost incomprehensible. For one, it puts the climate crisis we face into stark relief. Through the study of this terrain, it is clear that our earth’s balance can tip precipitously and disastrously. Oceans can indeed become deserts, fundamentally altering the life that exists there. Given what we already know of the mass extinctions that life on this earth has endured, it should shock us into change dramatically the ways we live that are accelerating these changes. Our actions in this next generation will likely bear fruit for centuries.

Another realization has emerged in our time here. It has to do with the dramatic changes that can only come through persistent action. One of the challenges of encountering the Grand Canyon is the vast scale that opens up before you. Miles and miles across, roughly a mile deep, it is a vastness that can’t really be comprehended, you can only somehow absorb it. With that nearly surreal scale is the remarkable manner it which it came to be. Unlike Yosemite Valley, that was formed by massive glaciers shearing the granite, the Grand Canyon is being made by persistent, everyday actions of wind, water and gravity. The water and wind has worn away the rock, frozen in its walls, fracturing it in dramatic fashion. What once was a level plateau has been very slowly and just as surely changed into a canyon that can be seen from space.

Given the scale of time, this is almost more understandable with the Grand Canyon, with the mighty Colorado River coursing through the valley. Given the runoff that feeds this river system, one can see how even boulders can be shunted downstream. But this phenomenal course of action is also the case in Zion Canyon, where the shallow and gentle Virgin River flows.

There is no way, when looking at the small Virgin River, that one would surmise that it could have carved the canyons hundreds to over a thousand feet deep. What I have realized, though, is that scale of time that we use is often quite short. Six months? A few years? A few decades? Rarely a lifetime. We humans seem to shrink our scales of perception to what we might live to see. In reality, though, it is the persistent, long-term efforts that change the course of time.

Several years ago I read an article about a Roman Catholic parish that was being shut down in the Bronx in New York. After decades of attrition, there were few parishioners in the pews and the parochial school did not draw the same number of children as it once had. After years of study, the Archdiocese decided to shut the parish down, and send those who remained to nearby congregations. For those who had been baptized, married, raised their children in this parish, this was heretical. They organized to fight this decision––it was to no avail. But it was the answer of the Archdiocesan spokesman that got my attention at the end of the story. He was asked by the reporter whether or not the Archdiocese would be selling the property, seeing as how they had just shut down the church and the school. “No,” the spokesman replied, “we think that we’ll need it in the next 300 years.”

This reflection on time has reminded me of the scale of time we should be using. Our efforts, the way we live, the witness we give to the world should not simply be on the scale of six months or three to five years or even fifty-five years. It is folly, even hubris, to think of only our own lifetimes. Our scale, understandably, is focused in such small increments. But the psalmist talks about one day for God being like a thousand years for us. What might change or shift if we were to understand that we were participating in a river that has been flowing for almost 2,000 years, that itself is fed by a stream thousands of years older?

And a river that we expect to flow for thousands more? Yes, our focus must be on what is immediately at hand, in our parish, in our neighborhood, In our city, in our diocese, This is important. Being able to see projects through for three months or for three year timelines is important.

But I have been humbled and inspired by the witness of persistence, of fluid water cutting through seemingly impenetrable rock. Drop by drop, minute by minute, millennia by millennia. It has me wondering what our persistent efforts, our continuing stance, the forces of our unrelenting love, will yield over decades, over centuries. For us as Episcopalians, Anglicans, Christians, we are fed by a Source that runs far deeper than we often allow for. As the Rt. Rev. Greg Rickel has written, “I am living in hope that we are coming to the realization that our traditions are not useless and dead, but rather mysterious and alluring to a new generation. It is not that our tradition is bad. The problem is that we don’t know it anymore.” The questions of our time, not only at All Souls, but for Christian communities around the world are these: What course are we setting ourselves to? How are we joining with the stream of billions? Are we ready to give our lives and our selves to the radical Good News of the reconciliation of Creator and created, that is right now as well as decades, centuries, millennia away?

Peace,

Phil+

The Character of All Souls

For several decades now, career counselors and those working in what is often called Human Resources have used a particular tool, the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, or the MBTI. I encountered this inventory about 20 years ago, when I made my obligatory visit to the career counseling center at Cal. (Incidentally, after using this and a couple of other inventories, the two strongest career possibilities were Minister and Forest Service Ranger. Maybe this sabbatical has been in the works for awhile.)

Using a scale to determine natural personal tendencies, the MBTI then correlates these tendencies into sixteen different personality types. The undergirding for these types was conceived by the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung in the first half of the 20th century, but it was a mother, Katharine Cook Briggs, and her daughter, Isabel Briggs Myers, who refined them and came up with an inventory that could effectively help people to understand their natural tendencies and the personality that emerges from those tendencies.

They grouped these types according to four polarities: (I)ntroverted & (E)xtraverted, I(n)tuitive & (S)ensing, (T)hinking & (F)eeling, (P)erceiving and (J)udging. When you fill out an inventory, you answer the statements given your tendencies and at the end your type emerges through these four polarities. For instance, though it is likely that Jesus never took the MBTI, some have estimated that he was an INFJ.

    Introverted (he really liked to go away alone to pray and seemed to draw his way forward from within)
    Intuitive (rather than work with increments, he was into transformational change)
    Feeling (the parables are amazing, but he put great value in people and was able to understand people in ways they weren’t even aware of)
    Judging (he loved them all, but certainly was decisive, with clear standards)

The organizational consultant William Bridges, author of the very influential book, Transitions (and professor at Mills College for some time), started using the MBTI as a tool for understanding organizations as part of his organizational development work. When approached by the MBTI folks about this use, he was asked to consolidate his learning into a book, which became The Character of Organizations. It is one of the books that the College of Congregational Development has asked us to read and it is an interesting lens into the workings of any organization, including All Souls.

What Bridges posits is that the character of an organization is formed at its origins, and that it is relatively set over time. In his book, the majority of his examples come from the business world, so I do wonder if more long-standing organizations, like thousand year old churches, maintain the same character, or personality, over that time or not. In our case, now being over 100 years old, I am curious to know if the character of All Souls has remained the same. Has era or outside event changed the way we live? Has the character shifted over time, especially if there has been a gradual (or at times sudden) change in leadership? Or, are we in a sense replicating ourselves over the generations?

One clear element that Bridges points to as having both original and ongoing effect on the character of the organization are its leaders. Given our structure and way of being in the Episcopal Church, the Rector or priest in charge of the parish has an outsized influence on the organization and emphases of a congregation. Their imprint on what is deemed important, where resources are expended, where to draw energy and focus, all of this are factors in the leadership that a priest provides, consciously or not. And at the start, the tendencies of these early ordained leaders served to set the imprint of All Souls. But in my estimation, given the unique organization of a congregation, I wonder if this identity is even more shaped by the core groups of lay leaders that often far outlive the priests in any congregation. I still remember an older parishioner at the first parish I served saying, “The priests come and go, the people stay.” And that staying power has remarkable strength and inlfuence.

What Bridges points to, though, near the end of his book is what I have found to be most interesting, which is how organizations respond to transitions and change, given their natural tendencies. It’s not that these tendencies in and of themselves are better or worse––the analogy he draws are types of wood. In order to build a model airplane, balsa is the best choice of wood, whereas in building a sturdy table, oak would be a good choice. In either case, and in the case of organizations over time, you have to understand and accept the material you are working with. Each tendency reacts or responds to certain stresses of change in relatively predictable ways. Being aware of what change might elicit in individuals and groups can go a long way working together and positively in a time of transition.

Just as individuals who deny some aspect of their own makeup tend to project that quality onto someone else, organizations need to be aware of their own makeup for fear of simply projecting their fears, shortcomings or anxieties onto others (leaders, congregants, other parishes, etc). In Jungian terms, the denied and projected aspect of the individual or organization is the shadow, created by the light cast upon the other side. That other side, or as Bridges puts it, that “dark side of the moon” isn’t evil or wrong, simply underdeveloped. But we can only change, or round out the other side, by studying it, and learning from it.

This is part of why I am so eager to join seven other All Soulsians next week at the College for Congregational Development in the Seattle area. I am very interested to know how they see the tendencies of All Souls. Where do we naturally draw our energy? How do we seek to change? What are our tendencies in times of change? And I am particularly interested in learning what we might do in response to our shadow sides. What can we learn about those ways of being? How might we integrate them into how we live going forward? In all, I am excited to live towards what Bridges calls organizational health, “the capacity to maintain a tension between both of these apparently opposite characteristics.” More to come in the months ahead.

Peace,

Phil+

Rhythms of Life

The beginning to this sabbath time has been about rhythm.The normal structures of our days and weeks have been removed and as a result we are trying to figure out what to do, how to do it, and when it should happen. This initial sense of being off-kilter shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, as the same was true when we were on sabbatical in Oxford. Knowing that we were able to find stability then gives me some hope now as we make camp, household, spend time time together and do our work. (the boys have independent study while I have my own study)

Part of my reading on vital practices for congregations has been ordered by our ongoing work as part of the College for Congregational Development. Five folks from All Souls took part in the first year of this two year program last year and three more will join us this year for the week in mid-June. Between the first and second years, each congregational team is asked to undertake a project in our home congregation––ours has been to study the patterns and understandings around giving at All Souls. Along with that project, the College assigns several books to read in order to prepare ourselves for the next year and the work that we are to do together. This list is as follows:

In the Grip: Understanding Type, Stress and in the Inferior Function by Naomi Quick
Seeking God: The Way of St. Benedict by Esther de Waal
one of two books on facilitation, I chose Great Meeting, Great Results by Dee Kelsey and Pam Plumb
The Character of Organizations by William Bridges
Organizational Development and Change by Cummings and Worley
one of three books on congregational systems by Peter Steinke, I chose Healthy Congregations: A Systems Approach
A People Called Episcopalians by John Westerhoff

Alongside these excellent books about best practices––whether practices for businesses, governmental agencies or university departments––the College has found it important to ground these practices in the ways that Christians have gathered for centuries. To do this, they have recommended a powerful book about the Rule of St. Benedict by Esther de Waal, an Anglican laywoman. What makes de Waal’s exploration of the millennia-old set of practices so compelling is that she isn’t a monk or a nun. She is living out this way of being in the midst of the chaos that life can bring. For her, the heart of the rule is the ways that we can live towards God, rather than what we cannot do. She writes, “…seeking God does not demand the unusual, the spectacular, the heroic. It asks of me…that I do the most ordinary, often dreary and humdrum things that face me each day, with a loving openness that will allow them to become my own immediate way to God.” (page 105)

In Benedictine spirituality, the daily tasks and chores, the householding, the details that occupy so much of our existence, can actually become entrances into a life of living with God. Benedict saw stability as essential in part because some ascetics in the early centuries of Christianity would leave communities as they grew weary of the ordinary, of the friction and the challenge of living in community with the people who annoy or frustrate us. It’s my experience that this has not changed. We leave jobs, schools, marriages, often looking for the next opportunity to be better than the one we are currently frustrated by. And yet, without real work, little substantial change comes from these transitions. We are still the same people, just in different surroundings. So what, then, are we to do when feeling besieged by the tide of demands that rise up around us? For Benedict and for de Waal the response is to actually enter more fully into the spaces and relationships where we are. It is remember that the grass is growing, here.

Again, though separated by thousands of years, the Rule developed by Benedict sounds a clarion call to us in the hyper-active 21st century. In her chapter on balance, de Waal reminds us that, “We are essentially rhythmic creatures, life needs this rhythm and balance if it is to be consistently good and not drain us from the precious possibility of being or becoming our whole selves. Unless we take this seriously we are going to reduce the amount of ourselves that is actually there and available to us. We will live with less and less of our whole selves.” (page 93)

For Benedict, alongside the core concepts of obedience, stability, and conversion of life came the foundational practices of work, study and prayer. For many of us, this focus on work is duly given, though often in ways largely removed from the manual labor that Benedict’s Rule supposed. But more often than not, it is wildly out of proportion to the other two practices that undergird the Benedictine life: study and prayer. Study, or learning to come closer to the an understanding of the world around us, can happen but we must make time for it. It is not seen as a necessity in our product-driven culture, and yet real, deep study serves as the fount of our creativity, our collaboration with God. And prayer...well, if we are not proactive, days can pass before we remember to create space in our selves and in our lives to give our attention to God. Again, while the Daily Office has been the rhythm for monastics and others for centuries, there can be other fruitful ways to come close to God. But we must create the space for them.

In Seeking God, Esther de Waal uses an evocative metaphor of what it is like when a Rule, when the Word of God finds space in us. She writes, “(we are to) establish a life that can be lived after the Gospel, and that for St. Benedict means, above anything else, a life that is earthed in Christ.” (emphasis mine) Perhaps it is because of the physical spaces that I write this in, but this understanding of “earthing” our beliefs rings truly for me. For if we do not earth them, or ground them in our regular living, then our beliefs become like all of the good intentions of our lives––wished for but not actually lived by. So one of the questions that de Waal’s Seeking God has made me consider is this:

    How do I incorporate (make into being), or earth, these three elements of work, study and prayer into my daily, weekly, and yearly life?

In the weeks and months to come, I am looking forward to having initial answers to this question, not just in ways that are in rhythm for this time of Sabbath, but in ways that will sustain as we re-enter the intensity of school and work come September. After our last sabbatical, in addition to the study around intentional Christian communities I also developed some practices around rest. What the Rule of St. Benedict is opening up for me now is a real desire to create practices around study and prayer that create the downbeats and pauses needed to be earthed in Christ that I may come closer and closer to my whole self. What might this "earthing" look like for you?

Peace,

Phil+

Space to Reflect

For as long as I’ve been a leader in Christian ministry (12 years ordained, another 8 years before that), I’ve been interested in what makes Christian communities strong, vital and transformational. What is it that makes some communities radiate a sense of being alive, while other communities, which could be only a few miles away, struggle and often give off the sense of decline?

No matter the community that I was a part of: youth ministry, young adult ministry, camp and conference, diocesan, small parish, medium parish, large parish, I’ve always been curious about what makes it go, and go well. My experience is that most of us have been in a Christian community and been able to have a sense that, to paraphrase Oakland native Gertrude Stein, “there’s a there there.”

This interest in congregational vitality grew exponentially when I arrived at All Souls in 2008. Though I had been a priest for five years, I hadn’t served as the primary leader of a congregation yet and immediately felt the steepness of that learning curve. I quickly reached out to some colleagues in the area, all priests in new calls who were part of interesting, vital parishes. We began a study group that used books on leadership, church dynamics, and change as lenses to the work we were engaged with in our congregations. It has been a phenomenal, grounding, and inspiring experience that I look to continue as long as I am in ministry.

After a few years at All Souls, when the growth of the parish began to significantly effect our structures and practices, I began to look for ways to not only develop my leadership but also the wider leadership in the congregation. It was this search that led us to the College of Congregational Development in the Diocese of Olympia in the Seattle area. The work that we began nearly a year ago has transformed the way that I lead and practice as a priest, both in depth and in breadth.

Along the way, I have been asked to share some of our experience with seminary classes at CDSP (the Episcopal seminary up the hill) and PSR (the inter-denominational seminary also up the hill). This process of reflection and teaching has also deepened my ongoing study and affirmed in me this sense that not only is “there a there there,” but that there are principles and practices that can be learned in order to create the space for life-giving Christian community to exist.

When I was called to be the Rector of All Souls, the Vestry offered what was at the time a unique way to spend sabbatical time. The standard approach has been to take six months in the seventh year of a call. All Souls, though, offered a practice more in line with the academic approach more common in this community: to take three or four months every three or four years. It is a practice now being adopted by more congregations in our diocese for a few reasons: parishes and priests often found that six months was too long, priests weren’t lasting until the seventh year to take sabbaticals, and this regular time for reflection for both the parish and the priest can be fruitful.

As you may remember, in the fall of 2011, Sarah, the boys and I travelled to Oxford, England on sabbatical. There I studied intentional Christian community using the Wesleys of the 18^th century and the Oxford Movement of the 19^th century as lenses. When I returned I felt able to preach and teach from a space of greater depth and wider perspective.

For this sabbath time, in keeping with the work I’ve begun in the Rector study group and the teaching I’ve offered at CDSP, I will be studying congregational vitality. Part of this time will be spent as part of our eight person team returning to the College for Congregational Development in Seattle. And a good deal more will be reading, reflecting and writing. So far the books that I’ve set aside for this time are about: congregational dynamics, broad-scale cultural changes and the church, corporate and personal spiritual practices, theology, and leadership. The challenge hasn’t been, “what books will I bring during this time,” instead it has been, “what will I leave behind?”

When I realized that the practices of congregational vitality are what I wanted to spend time studying, it became clear that I can read, reflect and write from nearly anywhere in the world. And so after conversation with Sarah and the boys, I will be spending this time on the road and in the wild, from Arizona to Montana and back.

I will be posting my reflections regularly (as regularly as cell phone signal and wifi allows), so that anyone at All Souls and in our wider community who is interested can follow along. You will be able to subscribe directly or follow the posts when they are linked in the Pathfinder.

In all, please know that I will be keeping All Souls in my thoughts and prayers daily. I feel incredibly fortunate to experience the trust and faith of this parish––it is a humbling privilege to serve All Souls. I am looking forward to what comes of this time for the parish as a whole and for me as a leader. And I really cannot wait to see what will be on the other side when I return after Labor Day to this vital and engaging Christian community.

Peace,

Phil+