A Volley from the Canon 3: Tidiness

Last summer, my Congregational Development training group visited a downtown parish church. It’s been there for decades, serving a neighborhood that has risen and fallen, and is rising again. Members come from a pretty wide territory. Many are older folk, but there is a mix of younger adults, and some children. The main activity of the congregation outside of Sunday worship is running a large, well –known food pantry from their premises (lower level). The congregation is not in hard times, but it is not heavily endowed or in high clover, either (there is an assistant priest, but she will serve only three years, because that is when the funding for her position runs out).
So what struck me about this rather traditional Episcopal church? It was IMMACULATE! Sure, they’d been warned we were coming, but not early enough to have done a complete overhaul on the entire premises. This place was simply well organized and very carefully tended. For example:
· The worship space gleamed. Floors were polished, along with pews and everything brass. Stained glass glowed with cleanliness. Art, equipment, and devotional objects were placed precisely where they needed to be, to support, but never distract from, the main event. Nothing seemed to be hung or placed just because someone liked it, or it had been given as a memorial. Everything had a reason to be exactly where it was—and that reason fostered prayer and the worship of God.
· The landscaping was equally intentional. No garden kitch whatsoever. Just carefully chosen shrubs and flowers, flawlessly trimmed, without a weed in sight.
· Each bulletin board (and there weren’t many), had a purpose, but just one purpose. Each was colorful, attractive, and informative. None was a catch-all for all imaginable news. Every one was current.
· The hall was set up for the meeting that was taking place. No paraphernalia remaining from a previous meeting, or needed for the next one, was visible.
The upshot of all this was that I was totally impressed. I’ve visited dozens of Episcopal churches, rich and poor, big and small, high and low—but I had never seen one so well-maintained and so, well—LOVED—as this one. The conditions said that staff and people in this place really cared about their church, took some pride in it and the impression it made. They beamed with big smiles while they talked about their worship, their fellowship, and their food program. Yet clearly, they took their ministry seriously.
Nobody lectured us on this meticulousness. In fact, no one mentioned it at all. They didn’t need to, and I took away a great and valuable lesson, just by noticing.
If I were looking for a church in that city, that one would make my short list immediately.