If you ask a room full of clergy for their opinion on vision and mission statements, prepare for a few eye-rolls and groans. In a best-case scenario, you may hear a jovial “We already have one of those” with a gesture toward the Great Commission (Matt. 28:19). This is understandable, given the aversion to corporate-speak many of us have.
Moreover, there is only so much to being a parish priest. You preach, teach, pray, offer the sacraments, visit the sick, evangelize, write, offer counsel and spiritual direction, lead stewardship campaigns, meet with neighbors, support colleagues, attend various meetings, and so on. Nobody is reinventing the wheel, and I’d be suspicious of anyone claiming to do so. Much the same can be said for the local church. A church is a church. There are certain things we do and other things we generally don’t do, and drastic reinventions are likely to be met with suspicion.
It is easy enough for a church, or a pastor, to keep doing what churches and pastors do. That’s generally not bad advice, and for some churches and pastors it is very likely good advice. It can also be worthwhile to think more intentionally about this. Who are we and who is God calling us to be here and now?
I am approaching two years of service in a new parish, in a new city, in a new country. Moving from a two-point rural parish in Ontario, Canada, to an urban parish in Orlando, Florida, fresh off the heels of COVID has provided a good opportunity for me, a pastor, and them, parishioners, to ask, Who are we? Who is God calling us to be? Not “the church” generally, but Emmanuel Episcopal Church specifically.
One thing I learned early on in my ministry here is that Emmanuel was planted in 1953 as a self-consciously low-church parish. Self-consciously, that is, in relation to two neighboring parishes that were, at the time anyway, higher up the candlestick. Planting a new, low-church mission in the 1950s entailed some distinct theological and liturgical convictions. For one, Holy Communion was decidedly not celebrated every Sunday, but once a month. The remaining Sundays were Morning Prayer. The founding cleric was Mr. Cooper. That’s Mister, not Father. And the church, once completed in 1964, was beautiful but simple in its design and ornamentation.
Over time much of this changed, as you might expect. In the 1980s, an influential cleric arrived who went by “Father” and who immediately implemented weekly Communion. At some point thereafter candles were placed on the altar, chasubles donned, and an aumbry was even installed for reserving the sacrament. Today, Emmanuel isn’t unlike many other Episcopal churches in the diocese or around the country. While there remain a few truly high and low churches, most of us have ended up somewhere in the middle. The liturgical renewal movement won the day, more or less.
Nevertheless, Emmanuel was planted as a low-church parish. That is a matter of fact. Therefore, one question I’ve been asking myself and revisiting quite a bit in the last 18 months is, “What in our low-church DNA might provide insight for the present and fuel for the future?” In other words, how does who we were shape who we are and influence who we might become? I confess that I do not yet have a concrete answer, but two things have begun to bubble to the surface.
The first is a theological conviction about the Word of God, by which I mean Holy Scripture. Traditionally low-church worship was Word-based in a way that differed from the sacramental worship of higher liturgical expressions. I know these lines have become a bit blurred over the decades, and that’s probably a good thing. Some of the best gospel sermons I’ve heard preached were from Anglo-Catholic pulpits! Nevertheless, this conviction says something.
Practically, this has influenced my preaching, which has taken on more of a Reformed accent. Don’t get me wrong — in the heat of August I preached for four weeks on John 6 and most certainly pointed folks to the bread and wine of Holy Communion whenever I could. But I would also say that I have become more intentional about framing the gospel as good news for weary sinners, highlighting at any opportunity the great Reformed doctrine of justification by faith alone, which is, need I remind my fellow Episcopalians, “a most wholesome Doctrine, and very full of comfort” (Article XI).
We cannot overemphasize the degree to which the salvation of humankind is asymmetrical, that is, a work of God alone and not of man at all, unless that man is the God-man, Jesus Christ. But I digress. My point is that this approach to preaching, this theological emphasis, was historically championed by low-church congregations like the one I now serve. That’s a thread worth pulling on, at least for us.
Another way the “Who are we?” question is influencing my ministry is in mission and evangelism. Of course, every church began in some way, but Emmanuel began relatively recently in a storefront on North Mills Avenue. Mission is at the heart of every church because it is at the heart of the Church, but I feel this acutely at Emmanuel.
Our founders decided that our neighborhood needed a new church, and Emmanuel was born in rather inconspicuous form. They wanted to reach new people with the good news of Jesus Christ. And they did. Mission is in the DNA of Emmanuel. Surely this is something that would benefit from renewed intention and attention now, 70 years later? I think so. After all, if we don’t desperately want to see people converted by the power of the Holy Spirit, to repent and put their trust in Jesus, committing to follow him each day, then is it really the gospel we believe?
Coinciding with this, our parish has begun some work in vision and mission, to be followed with a strategic plan. This work is already bearing fruit in our parish, and we’ve only started. The real merit of this work is the way it prompts people to think more intentionally about what we tend to take for granted. That is tremendously important in itself, because things that “go without saying” tend to become things that we forget how to say. It’s worth remembering and relearning to say that which goes without saying.
Some of the questions we have been asking together include: Who are we (history)? What do you love about Emmanuel? What is something Emmanuel has done in the last two years that you’re proud of? What are the pressing (existential and other) issues facing Central Floridians today? And so on. All of this is with an eye to another question I’ve mentioned: Who is God calling us to be? Along with this, we will think strategically about a plan that outlines priorities, emphases, and things we will focus on in the next two to five years. These will be held lightly, of course, but they will provide guidance.
It’s easy for pastors and churches to “do what we do” and as a result a certain forgetfulness or apathy can enter the equation. It is from time to time, therefore, helpful to think more intentionally as a congregation about who we are, and the work God has entrusted to us in this place at this time. The answers probably won’t be brand-new, but asking the questions together may well spark a renewed sense of energy and vocation. Or so I hope.
The Rev. Jonathan Turtle is a Canadian adapting to life in Florida with his wife and four children where he gratefully serves as pastor to the faithful of Emmanuel Episcopal Church (Orlando) and beyond.
