In July, our First Monday fell on the 4th. We entertained about 70 guests with bluegrass music, brats, sauerkraut, and poundcake with ice cream. Thanks to all of our volunteers, and to the vendors. The brats and buns came from Mad Dog’s Eatery on N. Henry St.; the sauerkraut came from Porchlight Products, and the ice cream was from Sassy Cow Creamery.
Thanks to everyone who helped out and those who were willing to volunteer but weren’t needed. See you next month!
Here are pictures:
Proper 9, Yr A
July 3, 2011
There’s a guy who comes by the church to see me on a regular basis; well, there are several guys, but I’m thinking of one in particular. He’s clearly an operator. He’s not really homeless, at least, not all of the time. For a few months I’ll see him regularly in the lineup or at the monthly meal, then when his 90 days runs out, he makes himself scarce—except to come by and see me. He always wants a bus ticket to Milwaukee, but there’s always a story involved. It’s never the same story, though. After the second time, I told him that I could only help him once every six months—that was a rule we had back in South Carolina, and it worked pretty well to keep the most annoying people at bay. So the six months came up this past week, and sure enough, he came back by the church, looking for money for a bus ticket to go to Milwaukee. We missed each other, but next time he comes by, I’ll tell him, he’s been to Milwaukee more often in the last two years, than I have, and that’s only if you count the trips I’ve paid for. Continue reading
I took a phone call from a reporter for a Madison media outlet a couple of weeks ago. He had recently returned to Madison after several years abroad and was shocked by the breakdown of community in Madison since he had left. Because of the developments in state government and the protests, deep fissures have arisen in Madison. Debate has given way to name-calling, and as he put it, everything seems black or white. I could do no more than concur with his assessment, having experienced myself that any attempt at nuance is often perceived as betrayal or attack.
For this, both sides share responsibility. The effects on our civic life will be felt for a very long time and our community may never be the same. But in the midst of this polarized and polarizing situation, there are signs of an alternative.
During the height of the protest, talk show hosts and others were quick to spew forth epithets. When one radio personality called police and firefighters who were protesting, “lousy, rotten people,” who used violence and intimidation, Lt. Laura Laurenzi of the Madison Fire Department challenged her to provide video proof of such behavior, or to make a substantial donation to a local charity. No proof was forthcoming.
Lt. Laurenzi wanted to make something good out of this, so she challenged members of Firefighters Local 311 to make a donation and promised that she would match their generosity. The firefighters donated $1000 to Porchlight. In return, Lt. Laurenzi wrote a check for $1000 to Grace’s Food Pantry. Her donation will help purchase food and other supplies for people suffering during these difficult economic times.
Lt. Laurenzi did something quite interesting. She demanded that her opponent examine the language she used; she attempted to open up a conversation with her opponent, and she demanded that she be treated as a human being. That her opponent didn’t respond is not suprising. What is surprising is that Lt. Laurenzi made something good out of a dehumanizing situation.
As the dust has settled on the budget, and the protests have diminished, we are left in a community and in a state that seems to be at war with itself. The hard work of reconciliation lies ahead. I wonder who will take the lead.
The property-tax exemption for religious institutions has been in the news of late. In Wisconsin, the legislature passed a measure that revoked the exemption granted to Presbyterian House at the University of Wisconsin for the student rental complex they constructed several years ago. Gov. Walker vetoed the measure. St. Francis House, the Episcopal Chaplaincy at UW is also proposing a housing development on its site, although plans there are for the project to return to the property tax rolls. From the comments on these stories, it’s clear that the property tax exemption strikes raw nerves.
Meanwhile, city officials in Palmer, Massachusetts, have asked several non-profits, from the Chamber of Commerce, to churches, to make payments to the city in lieu of taxes (this idea is not new; Harvard University has been making substantial payments to the cities of Cambridge and Boston for many years).
Matt Yglesias has posted on this issue. He argues that:
Urban land is a scarce commodity, and structures are valuable fixed assets. If you tax land and structures that are operated as homes and business, but don’t tax land and structures that are operated as churches, you end up with more land being used for churches and less being used for homes and businesses than would otherwise be the case.
This is silly. Take Grace Church for example. Grace is on the National Register of Historical Places; it is also landmarked by the city. As such, the property has no value except to members of Grace Church. If we were to abandon the property, as so many churches have been abandoned in America’s cities due to population shifts and declining attendance, the property would probably remain vacant. No other church would purchase it. The space is ill-suited for the needs of contemporary worship: there’s no parking, the space is not airconditioned, and barely handicapped accessible. No other other entity would be interested in it, either, except a themed restaurant-nightclub, perhaps.
At the same time, we provide valuable services to the city and the community: housing a homeless shelter that would be incredibly difficult to relocate, a food pantry, space for AA and other community meetings. Yglesias himself often argues about the importance of balance in urban planning, and we offer that as well, a courtyard garden that is much appreciated by local residents and tourists, a beautiful space that beckons even non-churchgoers who sense the sacred when they enter it.
I suspect that at some point in the future, the property tax exemption will be challenged, if not in Madison, the home of the Freedom from Religion Foundation, then in another part of the country. When that happens, some religious institutions will be forced to close their doors, and my guess would be that many of the endangered congregations would be located in old buildings in towns and cities that are already struggling to make ends meet, impoverishing the cultural and historical landscape of our communities.
Proper 8 Year A
June 26, 2011
On Friday, I saw Terence Malick’s “Tree of Life.” Malick is a filmmaker whose every work is mined for its meaning and significance. In almost 40 years as a director, he has completed only five films. “Tree of Life” won the Palme d’Or at Cannes this year. It is a sprawling, beautiful, incomprehensible film that asks its viewers to ponder life’s meaning. It begins with a verse from Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the world?” It is the first line of God’s response to the case Job has constructed against God, a case based on Job’s righteousness, and his suffering.
The central event in the “Tree of Life” is the death at nineteen years old of one of three brothers. We assume he was killed in Viet Nam, although there is nothing other than the mid 60s dress and décor that leads to such a conclusion. But that death continues to resonate, presumably with his parents, but also with his elder brother, who recalls their childhood, and the little torments a boy inflicts on a younger brother.
Giles Fraser, who is Canon Chancellor of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London has some interesting things to say about the nature of community when 85% of those in attendance at services are visitors from around the world. We certainly have nothing like that percentage of visitors on a Sunday, but I continue to be surprised by how many we do have. Certainly most Sundays it’s probably over 10% and a goodly number of those are out-of-town visitors. Another substantial segment are people who attend from time to time, with no real interest in joining.Just in the last month, we’ve had visitors from Burkina Faso, Uganda, and Germany, as well as several people who grew up at Grace and left Madison decades ago. We’ve also had people who have attended once on a whim or a quest, and have returned Sunday by Sunday, week after week.
Even at our midweek service, where average attendance is less than 10, we’ll often have a visitor or two. More likely than not, that visitor is a young adult. Sometimes they will attend regularly for a few weeks or months, and we’ll never see them again. Others will drop in semi-regularly.
I wonder about these attendance patterns. I’m familiar with the church shopper, and will occasionally ask a visitor point-blank whether that’s what they’re doing, not to put them on the spot, but to put them at ease. People come to services for all sorts of reasons, often with no intention of making a deeper commitment to our parish. Sometimes they are checking us out; more often, I suspect, they are simply reaching out to fill a momentary need. All this runs against everything that I know about congregational development, and all of my past experience as a churchgoer, scholar, and priest. We are constantly told that the goal is to get visitors fully involved and hooked in. I’m no longer convinced that should be our primary goal. Rather, we should take seriously the implications of one of those mottoes that some churches like to use “You are welcome, wherever you are on your spiritual journey.” Our hospitality should extend as deeply to someone we may never see again, as it would to a young family we are hoping to attract into active membership.
Such attendance patterns put even more pressure on my commitment to excellence in worship and preaching. If we’ve only got one chance to reach them, we’d better pull out all of the stops (quite literally). But of course one never knows how the Spirit works. Even if things aren’t perfect, it’s quite possible that visitors and regular attenders alike are spiritually nourished.
Facebook friends shared the following link with me: http://rachelheldevans.com/blessed-are-the-uncool
Thanks for this link. Serendipity, I suppose. A (possibly homeless) man walked down the center aisle last Sunday during the service, came right down to the front pew, said something aloud to me, that I couldn’t quite understand. When he came in, muttering to himself, and then spoke aloud, I got into traffic cop mode, wondering why the ushers hadn’t bounced him from the service, annoyed at the disruption, worried about how visitors or members were reacting. Then he sat down, was quiet for the rest of the service, came to the altar rail and received communion in tears. His presence was a blessing to me, if to no one else.
At our midweek service yesterday, a young man attended who I suspect suffers from cerebral palsy. He had trouble finding pages in the prayerbook and speaking the responses. But we adapted to his pace and welcomed him. He’s visiting from out of town for a couple of weeks, had fallen in love with Episcopal liturgy as a college student and came to worship with us. It was a gift and a joy to have him present in our small congregation and remind us of just what Evans writes about: Blessed are the uncool.
June 12, 2011
I’ve said before that I am sometimes curious about your response to the scripture readings. I know that many of you pay close attention during the readings, but I wonder what you are thinking as you listen and read. What images come to mind? What connections do you make between what is being read and what you see as you look up from the service bulletin and look around you? Do you even ponder the vast distance that separates our lives from those about which we are reading? Do you wonder whether the events recounted in the Book of Acts have any relevance to Grace Church? Well, I do. Continue reading
Will Willimon former Dean of the Chapel at Duke University, now United Methodist Bishop of Northern Alabama, reflecting on congregations, communities and change. While driving to services at a rural parish, he reflects that “the community that gave birth to this congregation has moved away.”
That’s one of the things people love about a church – it doesn’t move. It blooms where planted and, long after it has ceased to be fruitful, stays planted. We build our churches to look at least two hundred years older than they actually are. Inside, we bolt down the pews and make the furniture heavy and substantial. That the world around the church is chaotic and instable is a further justification for the church to be fixed and final.
And, he adds:
What is incomprehensible is that we call this stability-protecting, past-perpetuating institution “the Body of Christ.” All the gospels present Jesus as a ceaseless peripatetic. Never once did he say, “Settle down with me.” No, with vagabond Jesus it was always, “Follow me!”
Willimon concludes by saying that “one way to tell if a congregation is healthy is that it is on the move, trying to keep up with the machinations of the risen Christ.”
The full post is here.
This afternoon, while I was talking about communications with Jody, our Sexton Russ ran into the office holding two pieces of rotted wood that had fallen from the soffit on the corner of the nave’s roof. Looking up, we could see what looks like an opening into the building and evidence of bird habitation. With a building that is more than 150 years old, such things are to be expected. We have an obligation, indeed, part of our mission is to preserve our building for future generations, to pass on the legacy that we’ve received and to ensure that it will continue to be a presence on Capitol Square.
But our mission needs to encompass much more than that. After coming back into the office and digging back into my sermon in search of material, I encountered this video:
Here is some of the script:
“We don’t know the people next door anymore. Why would they want to come to church?”
“We are inside; they are outside. People pass by. No one comes in.”
“We are inside waiting, watching, and we don’t know what to do.”
“ And then it happens: wind… fire… noise.. and, [Silence]. What just happened?”
“The bad news is there is no one coming to fix your problems.”
“The good news is the solutions you seek are all around you.”
Walking around the building daily, I see both its beauty as well as those things that need ongoing maintenance and attention. And I think about those disciples, in the Gospel of John, huddled together behind locked doors and in Acts, huddled together, waiting for what would come next. Pentecost is all about power and chaos and the sheer unexpected direction of God’s call. The image of tongues of fire, dancing on the heads of the disciples, and the power of being sent. In John, the disciples were commissioned to do Jesus Christ’s work–to forgive sins, restoring the penitent. But even more powerfully, Jesus Christ commissioned them to do his work in the world: “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”
Perhaps it’s because of the storms that went through last night with their high winds and chaotic effects. I am thinking about the power of the Spirit, the power of wind to create chaos and opportunity, to shake us up, toss us around, and land us in unexpected places. Where is God sending us, and who will we encounter?
It was over 90 outside; in the kitchen it was probably 20 degrees warmer. We improvised, serving our guests in the air-conditioned reception area. The music was provided by Yid Vicious.
The menu was ham, macaroni and cheese, and coleslaw. For dessert, wedding cake or pound cake with strawberries. Here are photos:
The numbers were small last night; perhaps many of our usual guests took advantage of the free food offered in Walkerville (apparently shelter numbers have been quite low the past few nights).
Preaching Grace on the Square 