This post is a continuation of the post on the three main reasons my congregation identified as a reason most people in my congregation attend my church. In this post, I examine the second most cited reason, the people in the pews.
BECOMING A FAMILY
Small congregations are like families in many ways. Like the members of one's family, members of the congregation don't get to choose who walks through the door and takes a seat at the metaphorical table; at least not technically speaking. Unlike families, people who take a seat and stay are not necessarily well known to each other apart from showing up during worship services. This is true in my small parish where average attendance hovers around 35 people.
Apart from our Sunday services, most of us don't associate outside the church's walls. I feel I know three or four families fairly well; been to the the home of a couple for social visits, but beyond that, my relationship with our congregation is largely confined to being their organist and occasional preacher on Sundays. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm not complaining. I'm merely differentiating between the type of family relationships I'm talking about.
What leads me to compare small congregations to families is the fact we don't have to be social friends who are into each other's business, but rather that we have a family-like commitment to each other, to be there when needed and to get together on occasion to enjoy each other's company in the comfort of our common spiritual home, our church. Our common form of worship is the tie that binds. Being a small congregation has actually allowed us to become more family-like.
COUNTRY CLUB MEMBERS ONLY
Ours was never a large congregation during the time my family joined this parish, but it wasn't family-like either when we joined. Average Sunday attendance would have been more around the 50 to 60 range at the time. The congregation had more of a social club or country club feel to it back then. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, local and state politicians, and established businessmen were prominent. They and their families socialized together beyond the church's walls, belonging to the same Masonic lodge, other service organizations, and the country club. In that sense there existed a less familial feel to the congregation. What existed at the time was a palpable sense of social stratification in the pews, with some in the higher tier literally claiming territorial rights to "their pew."
In the lower tier were people like my family; lower middle class, and some falling into the poverty level. This is not an uncommon phenomenon in Episcopal churches nationwide. This sense of marked social stratification in a congregation was a hallmark of Episcopalian churches up to the last decade of the twentieth century, but that is changing rapidly and is dramatically being played out in my parish's small congregation. Emblematic of this switch is the fact that when our church was built in 1882, it had a bell tower that never had a bell in it. It looked like a church, but it didn't sound like one. It looked inviting on the outside, but there was no call to come inside.
People who lived in my community their entire life expressed not knowing this church existed when I told them I was a member of it. Then in the early 2000's a member donated a digital clarion with a full battery of digitally sampled, free swinging bells. Interestingly, it was around that time, the social dynamics of our congregation began to shift.
I'm not suggesting that the bells made the difference. That was merely a coincidence, but around that time the sense of social stratification began to dissolve, as prominent members whose children had long ago moved away began dying off or stayed away when it became clear that things were changing, because the priest at the time began inviting new people in who weren't bankers, attorneys, or prominent businessman belonging to the same social clubs. He was bringing in people with less money, who truly worked for a living and weren't cradle Episcopalian and knew nothing about the Episcopal Church before they joined.
The church was no longer the country club it once was. When the doors of our church became noticeably open and the bells said we are here to the community, the first thing to happen was an exodus by those who liked their private and privileged pews preserved and finding them no longer reserved. In addition, some found their traditional sensibilities being affronted by a priest who employed unconventional ways of getting newcomers outside their social sphere to check us out that made leaving a more palatable choice.
REGAINING THE IMPULSE OF RELIGION
Of course, not all of those I referred to in the past as the "Old Guard" left. A few stayed, but in doing so they changed or appear to have changed; perhaps, because the environment is different from the time my wife and I joined. Social stratification is a thing of the past. As a congregation, we are more down to earth, coping with the reality of life as it is for most people. The religious impulse, "We need each other" that is the hallmark and motivation for humans to be religious, has been reestablished in our dwindling congregation, and that is a precious gift amidst all the gloom and doom predictions about having to close our doors and so on if we don't come up with enough financial support to merit our existence.
This religious impulse was expressed both pragmatically and sentimentally in our congregation's search survey at the beginning of its search process for a new priest. Pragmatically, it was expressed as a reality; that in order to exist as a church we needed more people so that we could afford being a church. Sentimentally, it was expressed in the description of our congregation as being friendly, open-minded, welcoming, a safe place, and inclusive. All of which is currently true in marked contrast to one status conscious member who, when my wife and I joined informed us "The Episcopal Church is not for everyone" - an attitude of a bygone era that symbolically departed when that member left our church.
There is a reason why researchers, studying congregational demographics refer to the size of our congregation as a family-sized church because at the level we are at we can act and function more like a family in a positive sense of the word. We know we have to rely on each other to make things work. We know we need each other and that every member is important to keeping our congregation alive and well, even though, by the same studies our church also falls under the category of a church on "life-support" which I will get to in another post.
For the moment, however, I feel confident that our small congregation will survive; that by God's grace and good favor it will be able to keep the old roof of our church over our heads, and we will continue to pray and worship our good and gracious God as we have done within the liminal space surrounded by its aging walls for over 130 years.
COME AND STAY
Smallness has its advantages as well as its disadvantages. The advantages often are overlooked because of those things we call practical concerns, money, carrying on as we always have, and the like. Being small literally give us the ability to reach out to everyone in the pews.
During the peace, our small congregation rises and people literally get out of their pews and greet everyone who can't. It's, at best, orchestrated mayhem for several minutes, but one can tell that it is a highpoint of our worship services. It truly demonstrates the family nature of our congregation, handshakes, hugs, and an occasional kiss on the cheek to people we see every week - love at work in worship.
Love at work was something that wasn't immediately apparent when my wife and I first joined; although the reason we joined was some good people literally whispering to us, "Come" or "Stay" from the pew behind us or as we walked out the door. Simple, loving words said in a whisper by a few - an inviting spirit that has grown even though our numbers have diminished. "Come" and "Stay" are no longer terms whispered, but are openly and blatantly said to anyone who enters our church's doors.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
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