People Watching

I haven’t been on a bus for a very long time – the journeys I need to make in this rural area not having that as an option. However I do remember the way buses fill up, each person going to an empty seat unless already with someone they know. No-one attempts to sit up cosy with a stranger until it becomes necessary, and even then in the brief seconds of looking down the aisle people are consciously or not sussing out the least threatening space. The seat next to the smart commuter being preferable to the scruffy teen or the old lady with arms full of bags and liable to chat to you whether you want to or not! On the other side the early boarders will have their own space protection plans – from the bags on the chair (forcing someone to dare to speak to you before they can claim a seat) to staring out of the window in denial of what is happening inside the bus.

In churches there is that same tendency – unless already planning to sit by someone  a new arrival will head for an empty space where they don’t have to go too close to others.  This is very normal behaviour – at least for us Brits – we have a pretty large invisible ‘my space’ around us. So many churches with smaller congregations than they were built for have this scattered look when you stand and view from the front.  Even when trying to get people to gather round in a circle or the like there will be those who resist the preacher’s requests. 

Yet this morning it was different. 

The church was laid out with 4 tables surrounded by a circle of chairs, 2 either side of the aisle. This wasn’t cafe church as such but creating usable size groups for a traditional Methodist Love Feast (another Moravian idea Wesley liked and nicked). This is a space for people to share tea and cake whilst sharing stories of encouragement of God in their lives. This was the first go at this and I had no idea how it would go, given people are not being used to speaking out at church unless you are the one at the front! 

It went down well but it was the people watching as they arrived that surprised me. People were choosing to fill up the gaps around a table rather than be the first at a new table. Some who usually sit in glorious separation were cwtched up close to each other. This has intrigued me. 

Is there is something about the table that changes the dynamic?

The expectation is that of being a group, and so it is important to be included. It is a community moment, and the layout says that. But surely all corporate worship is meant to be a community event – it is why we turn up at church at the same time, isn’t it? 

Actually it is much more complicated, some arrive at church on Sunday and long for that community, others come and want to be individual and it just happens that they are in a room with others being individual too. Some of those people will have stayed away today following the information given out in advance. Those who crave community in worship loved today. 

But how to serve congregations that are so varied in how they connect to God in worship?

Re-writing the parables

I didn't preach a sermon today - instead I offered an alternative version of the reading from Matthew 20 v 1-16.  My version reflects the experience of churches where generations have been missing and new recruits can't be found where they used to be. Culture has shifted and those looking for answers to the spiritual questions of life don't look to the church, so we have to meet them where they are. But I am positive about the future - if we can face the changes.

The parable of the workers in the vineyard reimagined –

For the kingdom of church is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. He agreed with them a wage for the day and sent them into his vineyard.

About nine in the morning he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing.  He told them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’  So they went.

He went out again about noon and did the same thing. The workers in the vineyard welcomed the arrivals and shared the work together, those who had worked since dawn could ease and rest in the heat of the sun whilst guiding the newcomers.

 About three in the afternoon the landowner went out again to the market place, but found no waiting for him. All around were people busy in their lives, whether rushing along or loitering they didn’t lift their eyes to see him.

He returned to the vineyard alone, the workers wearied by the sun sigh and work on, weaker and slower.

About five in the afternoon he went out again to the market place, this time he sat in the cafe, he chatted in the post office. He returned to the vineyard, others with him.

The new people were enthusiastically welcomed, but they didn’t work in the same way as the others.

At the end of the day they were gathered together and those that had worked longer commented to the landowner that things were not being done as they were taught and had tried to teach.

The landowner gently smiled, ‘The vineyard is a place of change, from the pruned barren looking vines to times of greenery and times of grapes. Each season comes with losses, gains and most of all change, those who work the longest shift see the most change.’

The last will be first and the first will be last, seasons of dryness and seasons of fruit

Endings and beginnings

This week I went to the leavers service for the CofE village school I visit for assemblies. In this 2 class school (infants in one room, juniors in the other) only one pupil was in year 6 and leaving to progress onto high school. So the end of year service for 'leavers' left him the star of the show, just as well he has acting ambitions and not daunted by the experience as classmates said what they thought of him and why he would be missed. For his turn he stood to speak about those he will miss until they too move up next year.

Later that day I was chatting to a parent of a boy leaving the high school post GSCE - they have no 6th form provision - and the debates about options and practicalities for college, what courses and how are they going to get there.  School leavers here scatter to a range of post 16 courses, but although transport costs can be applied for it struck me that the difference between the school bus winding between villages and needing to reach the routes of the regular buses is a big practical jump.

Both prompted me to look back at myself at various ages - I was on my way to university interviews when I first got the train by myself, and as for 6th form although we had a different status we were still at school, still the familiar environment. But maybe if you have been getting the minibus to school since you were 5 and stood to give your own formal farewell at 10/11 then the 16+ shift is not such a big thing. 

Then the beginnings - today was the first session of the Family Story Cafe at one of my churches. For those who know about these things it is a cross between cafe church, Godly play and messy church.  Basically parents/adults come for a coffee and space whilst children get a story and then craft time. I had in my head a target that if 3 adult/child combos came it would be a success, and that's how many came.  It would have felt good to be rushed off our feet but in reality the mixed team from different churches needed a bit of time to work together and also to get a picture of something that made sense in my head but they were still trying to grasp at a 'how will this work' level.

As always there is the nerve-wracking 'will anyone come?' moment.  As a wobbly one I am very vulnerable to past angst at these times. I guess for various reasons a lot of us are there - the fear of failure but also, for me, the potential for rejection that I tend to take personally and reaches down into childhood. Being in a leadership role in the church I still find it strange to be the initiator calling on others to come and volunteer to make things happen. This can add to the burden of 'what if they don't come' because I feel responsible for their time and commitment as well as my own disappointment.

Before my breakdown a few years ago (that long?) this wobble would be paralysing, because that led me into support and counselling now it doesn't have the same effect, it doesn't stop me taking the risks - that doesn't mean I don't wobble, I guess I always will, but this weeble wobbles but won't stay down.

And some people came, and they liked it, and they are likely to come again, and others may join them... I feel boosted by that, and so will the church who feel they have lost all contact with children and their parents.

Getting past that moment of 'will anyone come' is the end of the beginning...

All endings are new beginnings - but crossing that boundary between the two is daunting, whether for the year 6 pupil travelling on to high school or us weebles facing anything new.