Stability: Eating your own dogfood

Build a house from the foundation up, not the roof down, right? The second great Benedictine Value is stability. “If everything is falling apart, what sort of people do you have to be?” asks II Peter. Life has always had its share of people who are just out for new experiences, driven by ego and vanity, running the demo but never the whole application.
To be discipled we need to commit to a life of stability in community.

This has various implications. Because I value stability, I will not throw my toys out of the pram when people disappoint me. I will not easily believe the worst of them. I will always recognise that I have more in common with them, in Christ, than separates us. Creatively, I will recognise that what irritates me most about them are my own vices mirrored — therefore by interacting with them rather than walking apart, I can learn and grow in grace.

Seeing the other person as gift, striving to see God within them, does not make people less irritating. It does help me grow up. A stable community rests on deeper foundations than its members short-term satisfaction, or the fears of its weakest members. It can take them beyond the places they could take themselves, but it is never authentic when it is steamrollers their differences. Stable community rejoices in difference and treats it as enrichment.

All this stands in stark contrast to the way of the world with its “Mr Angry” judgmentalism, Celebrity culture, ego-flattering consumerism, superficiality and tribalism. Just say no, because Christianity driven by these passions will always be a harsh and sour charicature of what it could be, with a commitment to stability. There are times you can be so right, you’re wrong.

God loved us with an everlasting love. That is the bedrock on which we build. Therefore we can freely commit to each other, and stick with each other, almost whatever our differences. The first principle of Magdalene is “Come Together” — Come as you are, but stick with one another. In the face of community friction, work it through and journey on anyway in hope. Wthin the community lie the God-given resources people need to grow in grace and hope — and if only they will commit to this life as a shared reality, there is hope.

This is the second of three posts about the core Benedictine virtues of Conversion, Stability and Obedience, reflected in the Magdalene Community of Nashville, TN.

Britwell: Life after Death!

My first day back on Monday, I was able to spend some quality time on the Britwell estate in Slough, to help celebrate the new St George’s Church. Wikipedia (which doth not lie, some say) describes it as “a large overspill housing estate for bombed out Londoners [Citation needed]...depressing and overcowded [Citation needed].” Wikipedia also points out that the estate has sometimes been a rough old place — for a while buses wouldn't drive through it at night, and “Britwell's row of shops featured as a backdrop in the dystopia themed movie V for Vendetta.”

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Back in the sixties a Church was built on the Britwell, but using what turned out to be the wrong kind of concrete with added asbestos! It had to come down in 2005. A brave but dwindling local congregation (almost single figures) refused to give up on the estate, but things lookd pretty hopeless.

In 2004 John and Sue Chorlton came to Britwell, with a new vision. in 2006, Sarah Pix joined them.There wasn’t a building, so rebuilding the ruins had to start with the people network. Building round the faithful core, growing groups, engaging with people of all ages, the whole church is reinventing itself. A new congregation is growing steadily and organically. A great symbol and expression of all this is the new St George’s.

Britwell has turned into a fabulous renewal project — there are big challenges on the estate, of course, but there’s a courage, freshness and vitality about the place as well. Life Build Solutions have been wonderful partners in delivering a new vision for the whole community. I was reminded of the prophet’s words — “The glory of the latter house shall exceed the glory of the former house and, (punchline) in that place will I give peace, says the Lord.”

This building is already a great sign of hope. On Monday about 100 people, locals and outside collaborators, prayed and sang together as local people of various ages laid the stone, and a 100 year time capsule was buried under the floor. Thanks to David Brooks for pictures. Many people said they just hadn’t believed this new build could ever happen. Now it has its own YouTube channel.

Many on the estate would love to believe there is a God who loves them. Some of them have proved, in their own lives, that there is. But how does he love them? and how are they to access love as strong as death for themselves? That’s the big issue. But the kingdom is growing here, with increasing momentum, and the new St George’s is now a visible sign hope and the kingdom at the heart of this community.

The Learning from Lambeth

OK — now I'm back at work, what is clearer to me as a result of Lambeth?

1. The sheer scale of our communion in global terms. It was immensely moving to meet colleagues from around the world — Zimbabwe, Myanmar, Darfur — and learn directly about the human and gospel dimensions of their lives. Most moving was the experience of being in a huge congregation saying the Lords prayer together in over a hundred languages. Quoting a Tanzanian brother, God’s Word speaks to each of us in our own language as the people we are, where we are. I was often reminded of Max Warren’s saying “It takes a whole world to know Christ.”
   So? Get to know and prioritize time for the world Church
2. The experience of African led Bible studies in community was fantastic. Some of the more academic English felt it wasn’t quite their cup of tea. It was mine. I am ashamed at the comaratively modest amount of time I have spent down the years in teams and groups studying the scriptures personally together. Business always seemed more important. If only I had seen that corporate study of the scriptures was our business, I might have prioritised things rather differently!
   So? Direct, personal, corporate Bible study could be given a greater place in the engine room of our decision making processes.
3. Indaba is a considerable discipline that takes a while to master, but it’s worth it. We are so inculturated into parliamentary methods and tactics, with winners and losers, as the way to make decisions. Indaba is slower, and requires a higher order of listening skills. Imagine, say, the last General Synod, without all the locker room intrigue, hysterics and theatricals. I am still haunted by a Japanese colleague, who had needed continuous translation, thanking the group in broken English for “the beauty of being listened to.” It brings no glory to God that the same would be very improbable feedback from many of our church meetings.
   So? Be more aware about the negative effects of parliamentary processes on people, and work for more patient, open, mutual, emotionally inteligent ways of deciding things together.
4. Rowan’s big Lambeth strategy seemed to be about committing to personal and corporate holiness, and alowing our plans to grow out of that. I have no grand overarching command and control strategy for Bucks. Here’s my strategy: Grace through Faith — strive to become the kind of people God needs us to be, and he will show us, on the ground, what needs doing and, more importantly, how to do it. As we step out, with authenticity, in faith we grow; as we shrink back, our visions get bogged down in fear and trivial pursuits. Therefore, as well as looking outward, centering our team processes in Scripture and being rigorously self-critical of our methods, we will be richly rewarded by God as we prioritise faith over fear, realism over fantasy, personal and spiritual excellence over mediocrity.
   So? We need more Faith, more realism, more holiness!

Churches that grow too big?

Great and interesting series of Easter posts by Mike Croghan critiquing classic US denominational models of Church, including a great post about Church size and growth. When you go over 75-100, he suggests, it becomes very difficult to maintain real relationships:

I can't think of anything that a single church community can do which a network of communities working together can't do (though admittedly, such networks would probably move more slowly in many cases). On the other hand, I can think of a bunch of thorny issues that begin to arise when communities get so big that anonymity is possible - which probably happens when they approach 50 or 70 adults; fewer if the leadership responsibility is concentrated in one or two individuals. Once anonymity is possible, the church ceases to be a community of followers of Jesus.

He draws attention to two particular issues:

It's not a community where relationship is optional. It's OK to be an introvert. It's OK to hang back and take relationship at your own pace. But once it's possible to simply fall through the cracks - to neither know or be known and for no-one to realize that - it's not a community. It's more like a neighborhood - or a housing development. There are , no doubt, communities within the neighborhood - groups of people who share real relationship with each other - but the only thing shared by the entire group is not relationship, but mere proximity. Just like in the average housing development in the US today.

It's not community where following Jesus is optional. It's OK to be just starting on the way. It's OK to not be sure you want to be on that way at all. But it should be clear to everyone that following Jesus is what the community is about. It's not a group with a dual track: one group of people who try to be disciples, and a second group who choose the second, perfectly acceptable alternate track: simply show up once a week and pay for services provided by the first group. Oh, I know that every church says it's about discipleship. But practical reality speaks way louder than words, and the fact is that in communities large enough for folks to "slip through the cracks", it's blatantly obvious to all involved that the "just show up and consume" option is a perfectly valid one, 'cause folks can see plenty of people all around them choosing that.

Thinking of our network of almost 300 congregations in Bucks, I can see real truth in Mike’s words, encouraging and challenging. Encouraging because it’s a tremendous opportunity to serve in a Church which doesn’t (by dint of history) have any denominational coherence, and never has had. Practically speaking, there are one or two large (even four figure) congregations, but they have a really sophisticated game plan for maintaining community on a smaller scale within them. Far, far more often, parishes come in small packets: Mike’s 75-100 figure is eerily accurate for many. Call that good news, if you will, where people really relate to each other within those congregations — and that does happen surprisingly often. Smaller rural Churches can be really strong relationally; places where everybody is somebody. Sometimes.

I’d add a third problem to Mike’s two. People can be too geed up about quantity. The first question people ask vicars at parties, and vicars ask themselves, is often “how big is your congregation?” Fear and fantasy infects their minds, and they begin to think they are failures if they don’t grow into a 200+ congregation. So they flog themselves to try and grow. This compromises their authenticity, which in itself prevents them growing. Thus the vicious circle runs, and the more they bash their head against a wall, the more it hurts, and the more stuck they become.Jesus once said something interesting about grapes, figs and briars. A Tangerine is not a Small Orange, and however hard it fantasizes about being a Big Orange, God won’t let it happen.

What concerns me isn't the size of congregations as much as Mike’s second point about dual tracks. Where congregations of any size become “dual track” with a bunch of keenies doing the Jesus bit and everybody else in it for what they can get out of it, or sheer force of habit, Houston, we have a problem. We’re probably less hung up (explicitly) on numbers than Americans, but more hung up on relationality. Hmm. What do you think?
PS h/t Studiohermetique for “Schizophrenic Supplicants, above.

Riding the Tiger, Climbing the Ladder

Lots of Egos rubbing up against each other usually find ways to screw each other up. Churches, families and whole societies produce fruity horror stories about egomania and its products, from personal resentments to mad dictators. However, God gave us ego for a purpose. It feeds determination, creativity and resilience, even self-respect. Someone who really did not care about any of that would be less than themselves, and do very little creative for any community.

Wise as ever, Benedict sees the dangers and suggests real ways out. He doesn't simply say "Ego Bad" and squash people ("There is no I in Team"). One of the longest chapters in the rule (7) says how to grow humility. Benedict likens the struggle with Ego to Jacob's ladder — the place of work heaven and earth are joined. It begins by the simple awareness that we are never alone:

"Let each take account for ourself that we are noticed and observed at all times by God from heaven — our deeds in every time or place lie open to the divine seeing, and every time are reported by angels..."

From this interesting starting point, Benedict develops a twelve step recovery process (where have we heard of that before?) for recovering the person as they could be from the wreckage of our own egos run wild.

Note: Next time I get a silent retreat (Saint Wandrille in November?) go study RB7. Question: What creative contribution does Ego make to the building of community? How is it put to good work, and how allowed to run wild?

The Episcopal Church welcomed me

Morning worship at Epiphany Chicago, a parish with a troubled past (including a high churn rate of clergy) now being led into more fruitful places by the Reverend Meigan Cameron, priest and congregational developer. Situated on S. Ashland, one half of the parish is gentrifying, the other is the Mexican Barrio, with big social and healthcare challenges. About 50 there, good for August, with one of anyone, racially, in age, experience wise, with many younger people, couples and singles.

Having pulled Meigan's leg about the faded inscription from 1881 over the North window ("Goodwill towards Men" is all it says), I gathered that this was not quite the whole message at Epiphany these days. So what is?

"Jesus comes to remind us to pay attention to our neighbour: who's at our doors, and what do we do about that?"

"Being connected to the community made it possible for me to stay on the journey" (about a kind of near death experience whilst out running, where friends from Church got her going again and helped her through)

"Through our lives and by our prayers your kingdom come..."

Epiphany came over as a supremely real, improvisatory and earthed community of disciples, deeply engaging with their context not so much by throwing money at it or hiring help, but by living the gospel for themselves as a whole life thing on the streets. They've got big problems, but faithlessness isn't one of them. And you get melon at Coffee hour.

One sign of an excellent Church may well be the excellence of its facilities and electronics — why not? — but another, maybe more significant, is the way it interfaces with its context as a blessing and sign of hope.

A lot of English reporting about the Episcopal Church sees it entirely in terms of its internal politics, sometimes through lenses supplied by the dissidents from its cave of Adullam. They say it's lost its way, and is declining into a mushy liberal la-la land. Maybe some of it is. I don't know. But the Episcopal Church also has people out on the barrio, taking bullets for the kingdom, and giving all they've got to seek justice, and build a new community which challenges the complacency and blindness around it, by thinking different and living different. They may not always get it right, but they do what they do because of the hope that is in them, and they love the Lord as they seek to live out kingdom values.

The Lord's grace is over all his works, and he surely knows his own, and is not ashamed to call them his friends. Whatever the politics of it all, it would bless everyone, including the English, quite frankly, to give this lived kingdom reality a bit of damn respect, instead of ignoring it or patronising it. I will probably read lots of slick Willy spiteful comment about the Episcopal Church in the coming year, but I hope through the lens of the love and commitment to kingdom values on the ground I experienced here, not the other way round.

This brings me back to a question raised at the Summit by Michael Porter of Harvard — when we call ourselves community Churches, how much is this about real people out there, and how much about us, and how real and focused are we about this aspiration?

Reframing communities for regeneration

In his talk, Michael Porter discussed an Inner City regeneration project he's advised in Newark NJ.

The key was to stop defining the community in terms of its deficiencies, and focus instead on the kinds of competitive advantage that would make someone want to put real big resource into it.

This its Unemployed became its Underutilized workforce. Its Post Industrial location became its central location in a regional cluster. Its lack of retail facilities became an underserved local market, with a density yielding more purchasing power per square mile than the suburbs.

I often hear people define their parishes in terms of deficits. How can Churches learn to reframe the way we see ourselves in terms of opportunity instead of past glory and shortages?