Closer and Closer All the Time

Feast of the Holy Cross

Last night, a small group of us gathered in the social hall at St. John's to watch a favorite movie from my childhood, Lerner & Loewe's musical adaption of the classic Antoine de Saint-Exupéry  novella The Little Prince. 

The story recounts the literal and metaphorical journey of a pilot (portrayed by Richard Kiley the Man of La Mancha) who meets a sweet but strange little boy (Steven Warner) after being forced to land his plane in the midst of the Sahara Desert.  

The pilot, who had turned to the skies a cynical loner after his early human engagements proved unsatisfying, is at first impatient with the quixotic child's questions and demands ("please draw me a sheep!") that distract him from his frantic attempts to repair the plane before meager supplies of food and water run out. However, the prince's sketchy details of his own circumstances compel the child inside the adult to unravel this mystery.  His own early artistic attempts having been stifled by the adults around him, the pilot, finally with an appreciative audience, concedes to produce picture after picture, his skill improving along the way, as a means of drawing out the Prince's story. 

We move through the drawings into a combination of early 1970s camera tricks and animation to recollect the Prince's travels from his own small planet (with three knee-high volcanoes, please clean daily) and a single, self-absorbed rose (Donna McKechnie) in an attempt to understand, what else, the meaning of life.  Along the way his encounters with "the grown ups" prove just as frustrating as the pilot's had been.  He finally alights on Earth, and his first interaction -- with a snake, amusingly portrayed by choreographer Bob Fosse -- leads him to speculate that all earthlings might be snakes.  When he recounts this aloud, the pilot says nothing, but his expression speaks volumes.  The older man is concerned by the prince's vocal contemplation of an offer the snake made of a "quick trip" home again, by nature of a sting.

It is the Prince's next encounter, with a fox (Gene Wilder is brilliantly cast) that teaches him what he needs to know. Shy and wary at first, but desperate for companionship, the fox explains (and acts out) what they will need to do in order to build trust of one another.  By this act of "taming" one another, we become "unique in all the world" because we matter to and are responsible for another person.  

The prince, thinking guiltily of his rose, whom he had been disappointed to learn was not as extraordinary as she had claimed, is drawn inexorably back to the snake and his promise of a means to return to his little planet.  The pilot, having become quite "tamed" himself by this maddening but beguiling little boy, races after him in a panic, but is too late.  In a reversal of roles, the Prince becomes the calm teacher and comforts his grieving friend with the advice that -- because he won't know which star is the Prince's --  he should associate them all with him, to always feel his presence.

There is much going on here.  Saint-Exupéry was himself a pilot, and I wonder how much of the portrayal of the narrator is autobiographical.  I know I could go look that up, right now, but I am content to wonder.  I hadn't seen this movie in decades, and watching it again was like discovering a forgotten photo album, because as each conversation or musical number unfolded, I remember us watching it as kids and romping around the living room to the lively soundtrack.  

It was interesting to share the experience with a room of mostly strangers (besides the Archwarden, I was delighted when a high school friend unexpectedly turned up after seeing the event on Facebook) in a church setting.  Other than a passing reference to "the Lord" by Fosse, there is no overt scriptural context, but it is easy to draw parallels to another young man who baffled and infuriated "the grown-ups" during his brief sojourn on Earth, and left us forever changed when he accepted his fate with surprising resolve, and departed with a similar promise that he is always with us.

Church Communicators Serve Up Food for Thought

This is an article I submitted for the Evangel, our congregation's newsletter.  It was published in abridged form there, but I wanted to share the whole thing.

If your church disappeared tomorrow, would your community notice?

That provocative question set the tone for a lively and thought-provoking workshop led by JIM NAUGHTON and REBECCA WILSON, who make their living helping churches communicate better as the principals of Canticle Communications and co-authors of Speaking Faithfully: Communications as Evangelism in a Noisy World. Jim is also the founder of The Episcopal Cafe, a news blog.

The workshop, organized by NINA NICHOLSON Diocesan Director of Communications and Technology, gave congregations an opportunity to not only get better at using social media and other tools, but also to understand what kind of messages they are putting out in the world, and what might actually generate interest among their neighbors.

I attended the workshop as part of a team who will be collaborating on multiple aspects of communications at St. John’s, including the website, the bulletin, our presence in social media, and the Evangel.

The event started off on a sobering note as both leaders described the seemingly difficult climate in which the church finds itself. As Pew research reveals, increasing numbers of people are identifying with no faith and even embracing atheism. A number of high-profile scandals involving clergy and the perception of religious leaders as too judgmental and too political have not helped. “Our world thinks it knows what Christians are up to, and is disinterested or even hostile,” Naughton explained. He continued with a question: “What do you have that is attractive enough to break people's habits, behavior, and thinking?”

Episcopal churches have a tendency to use “insider language” that we expect people to know. This suggests to those who see and hear unfamiliar terms that a church might be an exclusionary club, and not for them. In an increasingly secular world, even spiritual messages should not make assumptions about the reader’s understanding of what church life is like, or even what the Bible says.

Mainline protestants in general have a tendency to “play it safe” and shy away from the edgy or controversial. On this, Wilson reminds us, “We have a savior who made people so angry that they killed him.” I was reminded of the few times St. John’s entered my consciousness prior to our joining. Each involved an incident where the parish had taken a stance on a social justice issue that led to some conflict. While there is always room for growth in how we respond to situations like this, in aggregate they served to tell me that this was a place that did not back away from its Gospel calling in the face of resistance. That was a strong factor in my decision to consider St. John’s as a new spiritual home for Jeffrey and me.

Naughton argues that the majority of “prime real estate” on web sites should be targeted at prospective visitors and newcomers, with parish business taking a back seat. “Jesus did not preach the Sermon on the Mount about the acolyte schedule,” he reminded. Those looking for a spiritual home want to be challenged inspired, and possibly redeemed. Their first instinct will not be to attend a meeting, and -- while schedules and calendars are important -- most transformative moments are unplanned. An effective menu system can get viewers who are looking for business information to what they need.

Since Andrew’s departure, parishioners have been taking turns writing reflections for the cover of the service leaflet. These narratives, many in the first person, are exactly the kind of content Naughton and Wilson believe has the power to engage people. We are generally shy and feel ill-equipped to evangelize to others, but Naughton and Wilson believe that what will reach them is “your story of what God is doing in your life, and you already know about that.”

Expanding on the topic of audience, Naughton and Wilson pointed out that many people drive past multiple churches -- even Episcopal churches -- to get to the one they attend. He challenged us to understand who lives around us, what do they care about and pay attention to? Are we gracefully inserting ourselves into the places where they are? What about their lives is hard, and could benefit from an understanding faith community?

We have done a little of this with projects like Ashes to Go, where you gently present an opportunity for “church” to those who don’t have the time or inclination to visit the building. This summer, St. Luke’s is offering Worship Without Walls, a “flash-mob” style evening service at a different outdoor location each Sunday. People seem generally surprised and pleased by these no-strings efforts to reach them where they are.

SUSAN DUNN, PATTY DREHER and I did some brainstorming about more ways to “get out there.” What could we offer regular commuters from Walnut Street, with the stresses and anxiety that the business world brings? What about those who have lost their job?

How could we become a part of community events like the Farmer’s Market? In June, a small group of us attended a service at St. Lydia’s, a growing “dinner church” that is affiliated with both the Lutheran Synod of New York and the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island. I learned in passing that the sister of one of the farmers at the market is an Episcopal priest. What if we partnered with his farm to offer a locally sourced meal intertwined with worship?

These are just a few ideas, out of countless possibilities. Naughton pointed out other community events, like Thanksgiving, Memorial Day or Veteran’s Day, that are not religious holidays but are often opportunities to creatively reach the community, waiting to be claimed. What could we offer which might become a new Montclair tradition?

I left the workshop feeling that we are doing many things right, and there are many things that we could improve upon to reach those around us and get to know each other and ourselves better. As we continue our “adventure” I hope many of you will bring forward your gifts and talents to help us to authentically tell St. John’s story in a way that inspires growth, both by bringing new people to our midst, and building our understanding, love and commitment for one another.