When we visited four years ago, A depleted congregation wondered if it would be the last to occupy the grand, city-center basilica. Designed to seat 1500, scarcely 100 people scattered themselves around the sanctuary. In his sermon, the preacher cited demographic trends to explain the emptiness. Despite the excellent music, worship lacked spirit. The preacher seemed eager to enter retirement.
We returned to that church this past Sunday and found a transformed congregation. We knew something had changed from the moment a woman came up to greet us on our way down the aisle. A buzz filled the sanctuary as the pews began to fill.
Even though the new preacher noted how the day's attendance was lower due to summer vacations, three or four hundred people brought a new energy that was evident from the moment we entered. The light seemed brighter, the congregation more diversified, the coffee hour friendlier, the choir more vibrant, and the preacher alive to the moment.
Church growth specialists write books about turn-around stories like this. The list-makers would have a field day -- noting the things this church did to facilitate change: The search committee found a minister with gifts for communication. He has an ability to tell a story, to weave common experience into bibilical themes, and to share his personal warmth with people -- all while standing in the center of the chancel without notes. Professional musicians performed challenging and lively music. A hymn-sing replaced the formal prelude. Traditional service music like the Gloria Patri and Doxology were replaced with fresher selections. The Lord's Prayer was begun with "Our Mother, Our Father." Responsive readings were omitted, with the minister speaking the call to worship and other prayers. When the congregation sang a "Hallelujah," it did so with the whole congregation using sign language, as well as voice.
The coffee hour, held in the brightly-lit narthex, was a noisy affair with several people coming up to us and talking. A new church sign announced to the street that the church is alive and thriving.
The five-day continuing education class was wonderful, we learned a lot. Another layer of learning came from attending this worship service. We are charged with hope.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Cones
After three nights at the Vancouver School of Theolgy, we strolled over to the rose garden where we got married over five years ago. It's a five minute walk through an idyllic university fringe neighborhood where everything is perfect.
A decade ago, the theological school found itself with ample acreage, an excess of old buildings in need of maintainance, and a dwindling financial base. With the cooperation of the University of British Columbia, overseer for the whole area, they sold or leased their land to developers who have filled it with high-end condominia and apartments. In return, the school received tens of millions of dollars, which it invested in updating its signature Iona Building. All of the seminary offices, classrooms, libraries, and student spaces are housed in it.
Now, with the residential development nearing completion, the vision of the builders has proven successful. The neighborhood is well suited to the natural environment, and all the buildings cluster together in pleasing ensemble. Nothing was left to happenstance.
The rose garden looked better than ever. We stood in the place where we said our vows and savored. Adjacent to to the rose garden, a stand of ancient western cedars had been allowed to perfect themselves without intrusion from designers. Huge trunks supported branchings that would have served well as individual trees in other regions. That grove bespoke another kind of ideal. We stood silently to watch the sun set over the waters and mountains.
To the above description must be added the broader view. This region occupies the western-most part of Vancouver known as Point Grey. In moving about from place to place, one cannot help but see wonderful panoramas of the Straights of Georgia -- one of the most scenic waterways in the world. From the windows in our rooms, and through the grand trees that protect them, we see blue-sky glimpses of the water and the distant mountains.
All of which is to say that we are enjoying the sights that surround us. It's beautiful here, and the people seem to know it.
We wonder how this grand environment, made accesible to those who have wealth and priviledge, is related to our own city of Holyoke, where fewer people of privilege choose to visit. We think Holyoke is beautiful, too. It may even be wealthy, in a way -- not in money or prominence -- but in the people who call it home.
Holyoke is home to many who live in deep poverty. This neighborhood is home to people of great wealth. We must reflect some more on how the two are related, and why there is such a difference between the two.
On the way home we searched for pine cones we might take home to plant and see if it is true that what takes root in one region can also take root in another.
A decade ago, the theological school found itself with ample acreage, an excess of old buildings in need of maintainance, and a dwindling financial base. With the cooperation of the University of British Columbia, overseer for the whole area, they sold or leased their land to developers who have filled it with high-end condominia and apartments. In return, the school received tens of millions of dollars, which it invested in updating its signature Iona Building. All of the seminary offices, classrooms, libraries, and student spaces are housed in it.
Now, with the residential development nearing completion, the vision of the builders has proven successful. The neighborhood is well suited to the natural environment, and all the buildings cluster together in pleasing ensemble. Nothing was left to happenstance.
The rose garden looked better than ever. We stood in the place where we said our vows and savored. Adjacent to to the rose garden, a stand of ancient western cedars had been allowed to perfect themselves without intrusion from designers. Huge trunks supported branchings that would have served well as individual trees in other regions. That grove bespoke another kind of ideal. We stood silently to watch the sun set over the waters and mountains.
To the above description must be added the broader view. This region occupies the western-most part of Vancouver known as Point Grey. In moving about from place to place, one cannot help but see wonderful panoramas of the Straights of Georgia -- one of the most scenic waterways in the world. From the windows in our rooms, and through the grand trees that protect them, we see blue-sky glimpses of the water and the distant mountains.
All of which is to say that we are enjoying the sights that surround us. It's beautiful here, and the people seem to know it.
We wonder how this grand environment, made accesible to those who have wealth and priviledge, is related to our own city of Holyoke, where fewer people of privilege choose to visit. We think Holyoke is beautiful, too. It may even be wealthy, in a way -- not in money or prominence -- but in the people who call it home.
Holyoke is home to many who live in deep poverty. This neighborhood is home to people of great wealth. We must reflect some more on how the two are related, and why there is such a difference between the two.
On the way home we searched for pine cones we might take home to plant and see if it is true that what takes root in one region can also take root in another.
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