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rivkaA couple of weeks ago, the ministers of our church announced that they will be retiring in June. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock - they're getting on in years, and John (who is 76) had a mild heart attack last spring. Over their customary summer off, I think they realized that if they wanted a retirement period they should probably start it now.
It shouldn't have come as a shock, but it did. And over the last week or so, I've begun to realize that I seem to be taking it harder than most people.
Michael is interested in seeing what we might be able to do with a more active and energetic minister. At my DRE advisory council meeting, I heard some sentiments suggesting that other people don't place all that much importance in the ministers: "Ministers come and ministers go - you're part of the congregation, and the congregation endures." "This is one of the least minister-centric congregations I've ever seen." Many people seem sort of excited to think of who we might get next. The most negativity I've heard expressed is along the lines of, "Ugh, a ministerial search is so much work."
In my corner, I am quietly panicking a little.
Church was a central foundation in my life, growing up. Not just "church" the generic noun, but Park Church (Congregational) in Elmira, New York. When I was a young child, we had a senior minister who served the church for 20 years. As I became a teenager, he retired and was replaced by an excellent pair of ministers who had a real gift for working with youth. That church sustained, challenged, and nurtured me as I grew up.
Now it's a ghost of its former self. When the ministers of my teenage years left, the church had trouble with its search (Elmira is apparently not a big selling point), and wound up hiring an inexperienced young woman just out of seminary and elevating a couple of lay leaders to paid positions. When a huge social controvery rocked the church, the young minister didn't handle it well and became a focal point for negative feelings. She left, and despite an excellent interim minister who specialized in healing wounded congregations, the church had terrible trouble replacing her. They wound up with a stern, rather colorless, and theologically quite conservative senior minister and an increasing ministerial role for one of the untrained lay leaders - who didn't handle it well.
The congregation became increasingly divided. For a few years, my parents didn't go to any church - which I would previously have thought was unimaginable for them. They couldn't bear the services at Park and weren't ready to move on to another congregation. We went on Christmas Eve when the whole family was home, but the last couple of times even the most tradition-bound of us (my brother Steve and I) had to admit that there was nothing there to draw us back again. My parents eventually joined a Presbyterian church, which they describe as just "okay." The last I heard, Park Church membership had dwindled so much that they only had one Sunday School class for grades 1-6.
Is it any wonder that having good, long-term ministers leave feels really perilous to me?
Since Michael and I joined First Unitarian, six years ago, the church has been growing beautifully. The RE program went from a meager handful of children who did crafts on Sunday morning with a paid care provider to a thriving crowd - on each of the past two Sundays we've had 45 kids in the classrooms, immersed in developmentally appropriate religious curricula. Membership and weekly attendance have increased, to the point where if you're late to church you often really have to look around for a seat. We've expanded our paid staff and our financial security. We became a teaching congregation last year, hosting a seminary student as our ministerial intern. And we've moved a long way towards being a church with clearly defined policies and procedures, rather than a church which relies on the institutional memories of a few stalwart elderly people. I feel as though we're poised to do great things as our 200th anniversary approaches in 2017.
People keep assuring me that, for all those reasons - plus our hugely prominent historical role in the history of American Unitarianism, and Baltimore's current urban renewal and expansion - we'll be considered a prime catch of a congregation. That ministers will be lining up around the block to reply to our search announcement, and we'll have our pick of some of the finest in the denomination.
But having watched what seemed to be a thriving church all but die after a couple of bad ministerial changes... I'm still worried. I'm afraid that our current growth will be interrupted and will falter. I'm afraid we're going to wind up with someone suboptimal. I'm afraid that things will change, and - as my whole family and I did with Park Church - I'll wind up no longer feeling that this church is my home.
It shouldn't have come as a shock, but it did. And over the last week or so, I've begun to realize that I seem to be taking it harder than most people.
Michael is interested in seeing what we might be able to do with a more active and energetic minister. At my DRE advisory council meeting, I heard some sentiments suggesting that other people don't place all that much importance in the ministers: "Ministers come and ministers go - you're part of the congregation, and the congregation endures." "This is one of the least minister-centric congregations I've ever seen." Many people seem sort of excited to think of who we might get next. The most negativity I've heard expressed is along the lines of, "Ugh, a ministerial search is so much work."
In my corner, I am quietly panicking a little.
Church was a central foundation in my life, growing up. Not just "church" the generic noun, but Park Church (Congregational) in Elmira, New York. When I was a young child, we had a senior minister who served the church for 20 years. As I became a teenager, he retired and was replaced by an excellent pair of ministers who had a real gift for working with youth. That church sustained, challenged, and nurtured me as I grew up.
Now it's a ghost of its former self. When the ministers of my teenage years left, the church had trouble with its search (Elmira is apparently not a big selling point), and wound up hiring an inexperienced young woman just out of seminary and elevating a couple of lay leaders to paid positions. When a huge social controvery rocked the church, the young minister didn't handle it well and became a focal point for negative feelings. She left, and despite an excellent interim minister who specialized in healing wounded congregations, the church had terrible trouble replacing her. They wound up with a stern, rather colorless, and theologically quite conservative senior minister and an increasing ministerial role for one of the untrained lay leaders - who didn't handle it well.
The congregation became increasingly divided. For a few years, my parents didn't go to any church - which I would previously have thought was unimaginable for them. They couldn't bear the services at Park and weren't ready to move on to another congregation. We went on Christmas Eve when the whole family was home, but the last couple of times even the most tradition-bound of us (my brother Steve and I) had to admit that there was nothing there to draw us back again. My parents eventually joined a Presbyterian church, which they describe as just "okay." The last I heard, Park Church membership had dwindled so much that they only had one Sunday School class for grades 1-6.
Is it any wonder that having good, long-term ministers leave feels really perilous to me?
Since Michael and I joined First Unitarian, six years ago, the church has been growing beautifully. The RE program went from a meager handful of children who did crafts on Sunday morning with a paid care provider to a thriving crowd - on each of the past two Sundays we've had 45 kids in the classrooms, immersed in developmentally appropriate religious curricula. Membership and weekly attendance have increased, to the point where if you're late to church you often really have to look around for a seat. We've expanded our paid staff and our financial security. We became a teaching congregation last year, hosting a seminary student as our ministerial intern. And we've moved a long way towards being a church with clearly defined policies and procedures, rather than a church which relies on the institutional memories of a few stalwart elderly people. I feel as though we're poised to do great things as our 200th anniversary approaches in 2017.
People keep assuring me that, for all those reasons - plus our hugely prominent historical role in the history of American Unitarianism, and Baltimore's current urban renewal and expansion - we'll be considered a prime catch of a congregation. That ministers will be lining up around the block to reply to our search announcement, and we'll have our pick of some of the finest in the denomination.
But having watched what seemed to be a thriving church all but die after a couple of bad ministerial changes... I'm still worried. I'm afraid that our current growth will be interrupted and will falter. I'm afraid we're going to wind up with someone suboptimal. I'm afraid that things will change, and - as my whole family and I did with Park Church - I'll wind up no longer feeling that this church is my home.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 11:54 pm (UTC)*stunned*
I joined when I was 14, for the third concert of their first season (1964, Brahms and Bruckner motets), and stayed in, except when I was in college out of town, through the end of '73. (I studied organ with Bob Finster, the founder.)