Few people will remember this – and even fewer will believe it – but when I was a seminarian at Virginia Theological Seminary, I was president of the Rosary Society. Raised from birth in a high church, among smells and bells and all manner of sung prayers, I went to seminary imagining that I would become rector of an inner-city Anglo-Catholic parish, just like the one that had formed me as a disciple of Jesus.
Plantation of “The Abbey”
Five years later, I planted The Abbey, the newest and least traditional church plant in the history of the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama. Rather than a “traditional” church model, we opened a church cafe that provided a space for discipleship, worship, community, and generosity. While a few obnoxious Episcopalians accused me of “desecrating” the altar (by failing to prevent unwitting guests from using it as a coffee table), many others told us that the work we were doing at the abbey had invited them to see and understand the sacrament in a new and richer way.
This was partly because our church-cafe format was so overwhelming that it forced people to seek God in strange places, which, in fact, were very ordinary places! In a cup of coffee rather than in a chalice of wine. Talk and laugh with the guest sitting next to you at the bar, rather than a handshake at Peace.
But that’s not the whole story. Even being part of a more traditional church plant is very meaningful and transformative. My husband’s parish was established 35 years ago, and the few remaining founding members still talk about the early years: praying in mobile units and hearing the toilet flush during Eucharistic prayer A. Somehow the thin walls weren’t a distraction; it was a light test that grounded them in relationship with each other, with God, and with the true purpose of being together as a gathered people of faith. It was a spiritual adventure!
Can tradition and adventure coexist?
I love the Episcopal Church, but I’m not sure it’s “adventurous” as I would describe it. In my experience serving in the Bible Belt, many Episcopal converts come from conservative traditions, and they like the Episcopal Church precisely because it is rich in tradition and weak in evangelical activity.
When we founded the Abbey, friends from neighboring Episcopal churches wanted to support the ministry. Most liked to pray at the cafe – once or twice. “It’s so different! You worship around a coffee table, just like Jesus!” they would say.
But after three visits, during the last of which a stack of metal folding chairs crashed to the floor like a set of dominoes during communion, a friend told me, “I love you. I love the mission of this church plant. But it’s just too much chaos for me to feel devoted to worship.”
This perspective is acceptable on an individual level. But the challenge becomes: How can we then reach people who may be truly blessed by the Episcopal Church or who might have a blessing for us? How can we reach these people if they don’t feel connected to our liturgy and buildings or don’t feel like they have access to them because of their location, or even their race or class?
It’s our responsibility. We are the hands and feet of Christ. And we are the hands, feet and voices of the Church.
Towards adventurous leadership
I don’t want to do away with the traditions favored by Episcopalians, not entirely. But I have suggestions for how we might expand our hearts and imaginations in ways that help us develop our capacity for adventurous leadership and church planting.
1. Seek the sacraments outside the church
Remind people that the sacraments are “outward signs of inward grace.” Send people into their neighborhoods, schools, and workplaces with this question: “Where can I see the sacrament in action, outside of church?”
2. Meet in spaces beyond your church
Hold church meetings and training events outside of your church walls. Visit public spaces and ask how God might be present there. Visit other church traditions and talk about how the Spirit has been manifested.
3. Explore your neighborhood
Suggest a weekday neighborhood mission: Take a walk around your neighborhood or church area, and maybe pick a place to spend an hour. Visit a store you’ve never been to before. Talk to three strangers.
4. Learn from the past
Offer training events on periods in history when the Church was forced to leave its tradition in the name of mission. One example is when Rev. John Yamazaki led services in the barracks of the Japanese internment camps.
5. Become marginalized inclusives
Most know Henri Nouwan’s expression “the wounded healer”. Talk about what it means to be a marginalized inclusive. We need leaders who have carefully examined their own history and who can use it to build relationships with others on the margins of society and the Church.
6. Think about a healthy community
Invite people to think about the practices of a healthy church community. In a time of increased isolation and loneliness, we need leaders who have both experienced community and can nurture it.
7. Examine the discomfort
Explore discomfort and dislocation. When does God call us to sit in uncomfortable conversations, unpredictable situations, or disruptive experiences? We have all put ourselves in these situations out of love at one time or another. Can we do this with the goal of inviting new people to join us in the body of Christ?
By perfecting these practices, I am confident we can nurture the next generation of Episcopal church planters and mission leaders!
The featured image of the Abbey community in Alabama praying outdoors in their neighborhood is provided by the article’s author, Katie Nakamura Rengers.
Katie Nakamura Rengers (she/her/hers)
Rev. Katie Nakamura Rengers is the founder of The Abbey, an Episcopal parish community in Birmingham, AL. She served as a staff leader for Presiding Bishop Michael Curry for church planting and leads classes and cohorts on missional leadership across the church. She graduated from VTS 2011.
