Alternative Congregations

I suppose most of you members of the clergy who are reading this article are engaged in one or more common activities: preparing the Sunday sermon; checking on your members in the hospital; ruminating on the current budget and how to meet it; musing about how to attract more members; dreading the next board meeting; and the list goes on. Such is the pastor’s life in traditional, parish ministry with its weekly rhythm revolving around the Sunday service(s) and the cycle of church seasons. A few of us, myself included, follow a different pattern.

About three years ago I began working as a chaplain for a company providing hospice services. While this is technically secular work, it has nonetheless been a good ministry for me. I have found that the Lord has given me gifts for this work and has been blessing it also. However, it has always seemed incomplete in primarily a couple of ways. The most obvious is that it pays somewhat less than I might expect to make in a medium-sized parish and includes none of the tax benefits available to clergy serving in churches. It also does not afford the opportunity for the full expression of ministry, at least not to the same extent as one would find in a church. There is no Sunday sermon, unless I am doing supply work that week. There is no weekly Eucharistic celebration. Weddings, baptisms, confirmation preparation and the like are all in short supply.

Over the course of my experience in hospice I have had many people ask, and continue to do so, whether I have a church. I had to say, “No, I'm afraid not.” It dismayed me that I had no congregation to invite these folks to be a part of. Then one day I realized that I did in fact have a congregation of sorts. It's just that it doesn't really congregate. I suppose that, borrowing from my previous career in computers, we would have to call it a distributed congregation. Yes, I understand I am presenting a bit of an oxymoron. Even so, I found that in some ways I think of these dear people as if they were my parishioners and my primary ministry to them is pastoral. Whereas my stints in parish ministry focused on preaching, worship and teaching, driven by the weekly service cycle, this ministry centers around presence, prayer and pastoral care. It is driven by the cycle of visits required to keep people compliant with their plan of care and by the immediate needs that are encountered in the moment.

So, rather than focusing on a deep analysis and exegesis of some particular text about which to present a message, I have to think on my feet in response to questions of various kinds: the Bible; current events; moral/ethical issues; questions of life's meaning, purpose and the like; and how any or all such things interrelate. Often the questions are basic, simple, but they are just as often deep and important. They come from long-wrestled-with questions, born of some personally significant event. They come from every day experiences and things people have been told by their own clergy or others. You just never know. The challenge for me is to affirm the questioner and his or her question while seeking to connect it to and explain the larger spiritual reality it inhabits. Sometimes, I must simply and humbly say, “I don’t know,” admitting that part of being human is not having all the answers.

It is the matter of questions that led me to the second aspect of this article’s title. One might anticipate questions from people dealing with dying or caring for those who are. What has struck me is the consistent flow of questions on a variety of spiritual and religious issues, often from church-going people. This situation has caused me to wonder, why aren’t these people getting their questions answered? On the one hand, it is apparent that traditional church models, systems, methods (whatever we may call them and whatever they are), are not giving people much of a grasp of what the Scriptures say and how those things relate to or impact one’s daily life (and its questions). On the other hand, having discovered they have significant questions (or perhaps doubting that their questions are significant), people do not have an appropriate venue in which to have them answered. And that seems to be where I come in.

I am often finding that it is after the posing of some question and the ensuing discussion that people ask whether I have a church. While it might be flattering to think that I have touched some chord that resonates with them, I have had to consider that if I did have a traditional sort of church, would they be getting their questions answered there either. My own experience tells me that when I have been on the Sunday service treadmill, my focus has not always been on answering questions people might have or necessarily addressing their significant life events from which questions might arise. Hence, I have begun to consider another model for church, one that is less focused on the Sunday service.

Consider the activities of a typical church. It will likely have at least one gathering a week, usually on Sunday morning, with one such gathering being considered primary according to its size. Depending on the size of the church and format of the service, anywhere from one to scores of people might be involved in its development and presentation. Add to that the other things typically undertaken by the church: outreach (charity of various sorts); education (Sunday school, Bible study); fellowship; administration. While all churches might be said to have all of these in some measure and fashion, they may not all be undertaken in an intentional manner. My guess is that far and away the big dog is worship – the Sunday service and all that it entails, which arguably will include some of the other activities as well. It is precisely this focus that seems to be leaving a number of folks in the spiritual dust, so to speak.

Now, let me be clear that I am not making an argument against Sunday services in general or of any type in particular. Worship is an important and integral part of what we need to be doing as Christians. It also can have significant and wonderful side-effects. It can be both a venue and a catalyst for important changes in people’s lives. It can also be highly idiosyncratic with respect to its form, style, music, etc. and a source of contention between those who prefer (or insist on) one sort over another. What would church look like, if instead of focusing our energies toward the Sunday service and all it entails, we focused on meeting people directly and encountering their issues and questions in some forum suitable to such a task?

I have been considering some type of informal meeting, where people can be comfortable and not concerned about the sundry nuances particular to various forms of worship. The nonbeliever would be as welcome as the believer and approached on equal terms. A simple set of protocols could be provided, perhaps similar to those used in 12-step meetings. Care would need to be taken to avoid having the meeting commandeered by the dysfunctional. The meeting might include a brief biblical overview or perspective of some sort, which would change from meeting to meeting and be aimed at raising the level of basic biblical/spiritual knowledge and its application to questions such as those at hand. Some time for fellowship could also be included and in the right setting, some worship, too.

Of course, an argument can be made that the issue at hand could be addressed in other ways. In fact, I have occasionally substituted a kind of question and answer time for the sermon. These have been generally well-received. My experience has been that folks like to know in advance when I plan to make such a change. Some congregations might be handling the matter in other ways, too, such as through a small group ministry or by using a cell church structure. There are no doubt other ideas, too, that would allow people to get answers to some of life’s most pressing questions and to help them grow spiritually.

Many people today still have a spiritual hunger, whether they are truly aware of it or not. They want to understand the meaning and purpose of life or at the very least to somehow know that life has meaning and purpose. Failing to receive the answers they crave, many of them have turned to other pursuits to forget the questions or dull the ache of a daily existence that seems bereft of meaning or purpose. They have abandoned the quest in favor of an endless buffet of leisure activity. Now and then, reality creeps in and the brokenness we inhabit brings the questions back to the front of their minds, a relative is diagnosed with cancer, a friend dies in an accident, a co-worker betrays them. Maybe they are facing their own financial problems or issues with their children or the breakdown of other significant relationships. Whatever it is, they need to find solid ground. They need to find answers. And that’s where I come in, because this is the congregation I serve.