The Infrequent Opportunity I Couldn't Pass Up

I've embarked on this writing leave from settled parish ministry and this was my first week not preaching or leading worship. Last week I preached at my "home" church, Second Congregational Church United Church of Christ in Attleboro, Massachusetts. It was wonderful to be welcomed home and to see friends; it will be wonderful to attend infrequently over the next several months when I have no worship obligations elsewhere, especially when I get to play handbells...the one activity I have missed most since I left 10 years ago. I miss my people in Schellsburg tremendously, but almost without exception in the eight days I've been back, the first thing people I know have said to me (whether Attleboro church folks, colleagues, or friends in the community) is, "WELCOME HOME!"

I did something today I haven’t done very many other times in my life: I attended a church where I had no professional role, knew no one in the congregation, and had no connection to the pastor or anyone on staff. In fact, I can name the churches I have attended in my life where this was the case. There are myriad reasons for this. I was raised in a family that went to the closest United Methodist Church on our first Sunday in a new town and stayed, so we didn’t church shop when I was a child. Then when I made my first church decision on my own, I went because I knew the new pastor from camp and because my boyfriend at the time was a member of the church. Ever since I started seminary, I’ve been to churches for the first time because I was on staff, because a friend was preaching and wanted moral support, because I was preaching there, or because someone on staff had invited me to consult for a program.

All of these churches have influenced me in greater or lesser ways. I have no idea what influence the latest addition to this list will bring, but I’m sure there will be one. God works like that, playing the long game while keeping an eye on the short game, too.

St. John’s UMC, Sarasota, Florida. I was two. Apparently, the first Sunday there was communion, I decided to go up front for the sacrament with the “nursery lady” who found out quickly that I would rather be in worship than in the nursery as the only child. I spent many hours with the pastor’s daughter at the parsonage and at my house because she was my primary babysitter. The “nursery lady” was also the church secretary; I spent the night with her when my baby brother was born. I still have the beautiful necklace she and her husband sent me when I graduated from high school.

St. Paul’s UMC, Papillion, Nebraska. I was within days of my fourth birthday. I started singing with my parents and in the children’s choir when I was five. I got my first “grown up” version of the Bible, a Gideon’s pocket New Testament, when we sang the books of the New Testament in worship. My Kindergarten teacher was also my Sunday School teacher…it’s a good thing I loved Mrs. Moore very much! The church made moving eight miles away from my best friend and my school easier because we didn’t have to change churches, too.

Fox Hill UMC, Hampton, Virginia. I was eight. I was the acolyte a month later and started playing for Children’s Church three months later, in rotation with other students of my piano teacher. I got to be one of the two acolytes for the dedication service of the new sanctuary and I was my mom’s music-reading assistant in the junior choir when she directed. I was also confirmed at Fox Hill; Pastor Bob usually spent 15 minutes or more after class answering my questions about the class discussion because what I asked was deeper and more complicated than what my peers were interested in. We all probably should have known what my vocation is at that point, but nobody got it then. I intended to be a surgeon at that point.

St. John’s UMC, Corpus Christi, Texas. I was 13. Two Sundays later, I was the liturgist on Youth Sunday and was in the inaugural youth and adult bell choirs within the month. I sang in both the youth and adult choirs and attended youth group faithfully for 3 years. I also served as the youth representative to the church’s United Methodist Bicentennial planning committee. Then in one summer all of our youth volunteers and staff moved and the youth group fell apart, so I changed churches of my own accord (referenced above). But I still attend St. John’s when I visit my parents and they still think of me as their own!

The United Parish in Brookline/St. Mark’s UMC, Brookline, Massachusetts. It was Easter Sunday, 1989 and I was in desperate need of resurrection after a crisis of faith in the gas chamber at Majdanek concentration camp in Poland while a rabbi sang Kaddish. I was in the bell choir two weeks later and became one of the children’s choir directors in the fall. I sang in the choir and served as the Music Committee chairperson for a couple of years. I later changed my membership to Harvard Congregational Church United Church of Christ (a member congregation of the parish) and became a Student In-Care on the path of ordination.

First Congregational Church United Church of Christ, San Francisco, California. I visited on the first Sunday in 2005, immediately after the tsunami in Indonesia and not long after FCCUCC had sold their traditional and historic church building to reinvent themselves for the 21st century. They were worshipping in a storefront not too far from their original home. We had communion and a wonderfully festive fellowship hour and though the sale and move had been stressful, the small congregation that morning was vibrant and hopeful about their future. I only attended that one time, but their faith that they had done what God asked of them and that God would lead them to new and different—and likely scary—opportunities for mission and worship has stuck with me to this day.

Four Corners Community Chapel United Church of Christ, Cumberland, Rhode Island. This morning’s church visit was originally planned because a role model was listed as the interim pastor, though I did know before I went that he has taken an interim position at another church and would not be there. I could have gone to any number of other churches this morning to catch up with friends or I could have gone back to my “home” church in Attleboro once I found out that he’s no longer there. I decided to go as a “tourist” anyway because it has been so long since I did so…and because I do not often have that opportunity. 

I’m glad that I did. I was welcomed warmly when I walked in by several people. I had a lovely conversation with two members before the service started and met the woman who was preaching (for the first time!). I did tell her that I’m an ordained minister when she introduced herself to me because I didn’t want to blindside her at the end. She did a wonderful job with the lectionary text, right on par with what I expect from my first and second year students at the Penn West Academy and because of that, I told her not to ignore any sense of call to preach she might hear in the future. I was invited back anytime and encouraged to think about joining the choir (imagine that, a singer invited to join the choir! That’s almost always why we stayed at the first church we attended: every choir needs a good bass, and my dad is a GOOD BASS). I pray that the congregation and their new Bridge Interim Pastor, who begins next week, will flourish together as the church continues its search for a new settled Pastor and Teacher.

The next “new” church I’m attending will be as guest preacher. I suspect that this will be the case for many months to come because I’m reasonably sure that when I’m not supplying a pulpit on a Sunday morning, I’ll be attending one of the churches in Attleboro where friends and colleagues are installed pastors. People in those congregations know me and I’ve preached in the churches that aren’t my “home” church, so I won’t be a first time visitor when I go. That’s a different experience which, I’m sure, will be fodder for another blog entry…