 |
|
|
|
Sharing
ideas to spread the Kingdom
by William Murchison, member, executive
council's RCMC
|
 o
then, how do we sing the Lord's
song — miles and miles from Dallas, past the suburbs
and exurbs, a piece beyond the Dairy Queen, the hardware store,
and the Cotton Belt tracks, not to mention two Methodist and
five
Baptist churches?
The answer is, you sing that old, old song
the way you would any place else: with Episcopal vivacity
— of a duly dignified sort, naturally — and possibly
a Willie Nelson-like lilt in the bass. You sing it because that's where
you are, and there's no place you'd rather be — as 100
rural Episcopalians came to Sulphur Springs in early February
to attest. |
Closing out the diocese's second annual Rural Church Gathering,
sponsored by the executive council's Rural Church Ministry Commission
(RCMC) and entitled "Sharing Ideas to Spread the Kingdom,"
the Rev. Jerry Hill allowed that "the Episcopal Church
is a sleeping giant, waiting to be awakened in rural communities."
"We have a brand!" the bearded priest exclaimed.
"I find that more and more people are looking for something
into which they can go deeper" — like the Eucharist
and the prayer book, the onetime rector of St. Paul, Waxahachie,
said. "We have a liturgy that people can click onto.
We are a sacramental church."
There's just one problem. Not every rural Episcopal church
— they span the diocese's 27 counties from the Red River
to the lakes of Navarro and Henderson counties — can
afford a rector with salary and benefits, which, as it happens,
is one of the concerns the RCMC has been addressing with energy
and, lately, tangible results. The Rev. Cn. Paul Lambert,
Canon to the Ordinary and himself a former rural rector (Texarkana),
explained the aims and workings of the diocese's brand-new
Titus Project, whose aim is raising up local talent to fill
pulpits and facilitate the celebration of sacraments.
The Titus Project — whose name honors, of course, St.
Paul's faithful follower and church-planter — is all
about identifying, for service in rural communities, Episcopalians
with 1) the sense of a calling to ministry and 2) the means
to support themselves without parish or diocesan stipend. |
Once identified, candidates will prepare academically. Ordination
follows in due course. An experienced priest will shepherd
new priests for a short period. Then comes assignment —
specifically to the rural communities to which they will be
ministering and in which they are residents. "The idea
is to go and stay there," said Hill, a chief designer
of the program. "We're not looking for commuter people
to
commute out."
"It's a unique initiative on our part …" Lambert
said. "This is the unveiling of it — sort of."
Five possible candidates are presently looking
the process over to see if they fit. |
 |
Money isn't a rural parish's only challenge. There's also the |
Sean Jecko talks about branding for Episcopalians |
matter of just getting people inside the church to see what
goes on there — especially when the local Baptist community
affords so many competing opportunities. "What you do,"
Sean Jecko, son of the late Assistant Bishop of Dallas, Stephen
Jecko, told the gathering, "is
brand yourself."
You mean, like Motel 6? Like Lowe's or Home Depot? "Precisely,"
said Jecko, a corporate identity specialist for The Richards
Group in Dallas. "You have to build a brand. You don't
change what you do as a church," explained Jecko, who
wasn't eager to give the impression he hoped to see consumerism
in the ecclesiastical saddle or Joel Osteen in Episcopal orders.
"You change the way you talk about yourself. … A
brand is not a name, a person, a building. It's a promise."
Moreover, it's a promise you'd better keep if you want people
who try you out to come back
for more. |
 |
The bishop's son made known that he knows Episcopalians. "We
have taken a passive position," he said. "We wait
for people to come to their senses and visit us. We haven't
actually gotten out and worked to reach them." About time
we did — by creating awareness of who we are, a clear understanding
of what we do, a depiction of the relevance of what we do, and
the opportunity for newcomers to kick the tires and check the
spark plugs. Followed — bingo — by adoption. Maybe.
"People," Jecko said, "relate to brands as
they relate to other people. You have to want people to |
| Rural clergy who attended the Rural Church Gathering |
identify with your brand." And when it's a good |
brand — like the Episcopal Church (even today) — why not? "Do
you need a brand? You already have one. What do you do with
it?"
And speaking of brands … what about the Rev. Terry Reisner's
summons to rural Episcopalians to become "iron chefs"
(as in the Food Network cook-off show), putting God at the
center of people's table habits, with youth as "spice"
in the dish? "Think about what you can cook in your kitchen
differently," said Reisner, vicar of St. Paul, Waxahachie,
and seasoned youth director.
Moreover, think of it, he enjoined, as a "gift to be
part of [young peoples'] lives in a way that big churches
don't
have" — the "opportunity to truly build relationships
… that help them more and more to be the person that
God has called them to be."
You're all youth ministers," affirmed Reisner. "You're
modeling what it means to be Christians." A city church,
possibly, but also a church out past the Dairy Queen, where
not just cows but souls hang out — alive and hungry for
the message of salvation (delivered with a certain distinctive
flair). |
|
|
|
