14 minute read
The Eight Congregational Strengths
There are eight strengths that are visible when people congregate. The earliest Christians called it the body of Christ. But these strengths are visible in every faith's social bodies, allowing all of us to tap deeper into the human design that makes life possible and sustainable. These strengths lie latent within every congregation, expressed in infinite variations that emerge in an actual group of humans over time.
1. Accompany. We are born and only live in human connections. Like the smallest dendrites of the deepest roots, we find each other and help each other find our way. 2. Convene. We find ways of coming together. Sometimes by the hundreds with song and scent, but more often two or three people at a time, gathered around the possibilities for healing in one's life. 3. Connect. We find and create social nodes in which threads of relationships cross that allow food, money, time and grace to flow to where it is needed. Sometimes the patterns of the flow create large and sustained organizations, but more often, the weave is quiet, like a casserole after a loss. 4. Stories. We are held together by stories tested across centuries.
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As congregations, we live on the true stories of compassion, empathy and kindness that defy the hard-hearted times, sending a signal to those nearly out of hope. We learn to trust our own vulnerability by participating in these stories and find we need not fear our own passage of dependency. 5. Sanctuary. We find and create safe spaces for the hardest human passages, some of which rise with sculpted stone, brass and glass hundreds of feet high. The most crucial are those intimate groups of shared silence, touch and tears that keep life alive. 6. Bless. We wish for the strength to command, instruct and correct. But all healing and sustained change spring from blessing, which usually feels like forgiveness and unconditional acceptance. Congregations sometimes do that but often settle for mere instruction. 7. Pray. Rituals can be brittle, awakening old wounds, but when nurtured skillfully and with Spirit, the array of symbols and practices of faith can let healing flow. Who knows what happens when the Ultimate and human mingle? 8. Endure. The odd and often ragged group of people in any one congregation at any one time can seem unimpressive and frail over against the enormity of the world and its subtle web of troubles. But congregations do tend to endure, adapting, inviting, and finding a way. They break ground and give seeds a chance to take root. Sometimes they do.
Dennis nodded. “Yes, healthy congregations accompany, convene and connect. They give context and sanctuary. They bless and pray. They endure and build healthy communities that endure too.” Krista looked around the room. “That is so true. If we didn’t already have a quarter million congregations designed to support intimate communities of meaning and spirit, the current avalanche of social stresses would force us to invent them.”
Zachary added quickly. “But we have those social nodes at every crossroads, at the end of every dirt road and two or three on every one of the toughest urban blocks. Many wonder what programs they should be adopting to respond to what are often wrongly called the crises of “mental health.” But a good way forward would be to pause and appreciate the God-given DNA built into the sinew, blood and bone of the social bodies the earliest Christians saw as proof of eternal and immediate grace.” Debra agreed. She had seen many social programs pop up over the years. “Yes, for sure. And these are not strengths confined to the professionally trained clergy. Although hopefully all of us clergy know how to lead in ways that build the muscles of the whole body, not just our own.” Krista smiled at Debra. “That is so true. I see these strengths in the congregations that turn out to be relevant to things they weren’t intentionally built for. I think of our youth choir, which gives voice and rhythm to hope against the mean streets and ugly silences.” Theodora was enjoying the discussion. She was thinking of the different groups she was part of and wanted to mention that now. “And the older women's prayer group that prays for, and then checks up on, those who have drifted out of sight due to age, despair or COVID-19. And the men’s group that puts down the doughnuts to turn into a ramp-building team when the local hospital asks for help for a patient also shows these strengths.”
Dennis leaned forward. “A few years ago, the state of Georgia was building a program to prevent suicide, wondering if congregations were doing anything upon which they could build. The Carter Center called congregations all over the state, almost all of whom said they were not doing anything. But then we asked if they had a youth group, or a secretary available to answer the phone, or an emergency response team with food, rent or practical help. They all said yes. Many of them had members volunteering in the local women’s shelter, the homeless ministry, food bank and free clinic.”
When congregations thrive
Zachary had been listening earnestly. “Yes, all of these make it easy for those in crisis to find the congregation and make their stress visible; to make the strengths accessible. But the congregation has to tune its ears to the cry behind the cry; sometimes to ask one more sensitive question to make it safe for the anxiety and stress manifested in individuals to get within range of help.” Krista looked around the table. “Yes, but any serious journey of healing at any scale begins with a pause of appreciation. It’s near-wonder that a social body called a congregation exists at all. What could one do if one gave oneself in humility to the work of strengthening the strengths? What healing could emerge in the lives of those involved, sometimes helping, sometimes finding help, surprised by which is which in the process?” Theodora smiled. “I think that it is possible to nurture a gentle harness of structure that fits the strengths, though it is more like the work of seasoned gardening or beekeeping than most committees have time or patience to achieve.” Zachary nodded but felt a bit skeptical. “Still and yet, we see that when the COVID-19 pandemic came, even driven with a wind of political vitriol, congregations did not break and fail as you’d expect. The ones that thrived did so in the most unexpected and unplanned ways. They found they had strengths that adapted to the greatest challenges.” Dennis shook his head in agreement. “Yes, we saw this in our community, when through the pandemic nearly half of US congregations indicated that giving and caregiving expanded even as the formalities and externalities of congregational life were impossible.” Debra smiled. “I’ve heard it said more than once that you can know if anything lively and new is happening in a research laboratory by the laughter. Humor and discovery are closely linked because both thrive on surprise. So does a living congregation. It turns out that God has hardwired a joke into the universe that you only get once you have been to the breaking ground and been flipped upside down. Like all humor, this cosmic joke rests on unexpected reversal, and it is a good one: Humility endures while pride dies in the dirt; sacrifice endures while acquisitiveness ends with death; knowledge remains incomplete while love fulfills and is never wasted. A laughing God nudges us in the ribs: ‘do you get it?’” The group laughed. The thought of God with such a wonderful sense of humor was uplifting. Angela’s story had brought such strong images of community and congregational strengths and had created the space for such a rich discussion.
CHAPTER SIX
Seeking the graceful learning path
Under the shade of the tree - the fruits of our learning
Paula, Amy, and Joel met in Hyde Park. However, this time they chose to sit under one of their favorite trees. Amy had brought delicious apple and cinnamon buns, and Joel had made his grandmother’s special pumpkin pie. Paula placed the blanket on the lawn and took out a flask of coffee and cups. Over the past few months, they had been on a wonderful journey together and become firm friends. Exploring the concepts and stories of Grace, Hurt, Hope and Healing had been so enriching and lifechanging for them. As they sat together, sipping their coffee, they were quiet, each deep in thought. Amy was the first to break the silence. “When I think back over the past few months, I realize how much I’ve learned from our conversations and Bible study sessions. What has really stood out is that this is about all of us. Trauma, suffering and adversity are things that we all experience. It is pervasive and gets passed through generations and across communities like bees spreading pollen. This is not about those “other” people; it’s about us and what we carry along with us.” Paula nodded. “Yes, and the threads that run through our families also shape us so much. I was struck by the strong generational thread between Emily and her grandmother, Eloise. Through her story, Emily acknowledged the hardship her grandmother lived through. Yet, she found solace and strength in the simple act of baking a pound cake and blessing others with it. I think it has given Emily strength in her own life too.”
Amy smiled. “That is so true. It reminds me of the wonderful quote by Alice Walker, ‘To acknowledge our ancestors means we are aware that we did not make ourselves, that the line stretches all the way back, perhaps to God; or to Gods. We remember them because it is an easy thing to forget: that we are not the first to suffer, rebel, fight, love and die. The grace with which we embrace life, in spite of the pain, the sorrow, is always a measure of what has gone before.’ The grace for Emily has been extended across generations.”
While the others pondered this, Joel bit into a slice of pumpkin pie. “The stories were all so powerful, and what became so clear for me is that there are different levels of trauma. Trauma can occur at the individual level, but also in congregations, like when a church burns down or when a pastor abuses a member. Whole communities can experience trauma, like when there is violence or crime, or when neighborhoods are subject to disinvestment and poverty. And trauma at a historical level can also occur and can impact an entire population who have been subjugated deliberately and systematically over an extended period of time–even generations–by a dominant group or social order. A great example of this is black people in the United States being subjected to slavery and Jim and Jane Crow laws and practices by mostly white people.” Amy nodded in agreement. “Yes, but when I heard Laneita’s story, I realized that hope and love and peace and grace get passed along, too. Generational resilience, historical strengths, life and hope get into our bodies, minds and spirits just as much as suffering and stress does.”
Joel pulled at the tufts of grass as he spoke. “What shook me was that the Church can be a source of wounding—judgment, shame, punishment, fear, guilt, rigidity, use of scripture to justify abuse. Church is a place where wounded people come together and inflict their unresolved collective and personal trauma on each other. We need to be honest about this and call ourselves to accountability and repair.” Paula looked at her friends and nodded. “Yes, positive faith and spiritual practice and experience can be a deep grounding point in the face of life struggles and wounds. Both are true. Church hurts and church heals. And both speak to the power and depth of meaning that is there when people come together to seek what is holy and to connect with God. Because there is so much meaning there, it can really hurt and mess people up if what they find is punitive and reinforces shame, fear, and guilt….and it can really hold people well and nourish and connect them to a deep spiritual source if what they find is open, loving, and inviting.” Amy sipped some coffee and added. “That’s so true. Moral centers can be shaped and molded, so we need to be intentional and care about how we do this.”
Joel agreed. “I think that companionship is so important. How we accompany each other is what is actually healing. I learned that this can start in a place of curiosity versus judgment. When we begin to change the questions, we can ask, ‘what happened to you?’ Or even better, ‘what have you been through?’ or ‘what’s right with you?’ versus ‘what’s wrong with you?’ Amy nodded. “I learned a lot from TC’s story. We should follow the lead of the other. People are experts in themselves. We should respect each other’s privacy and autonomy, being ready to respond when the invitation comes to enter the other’s space, stepping into the space lightly and gently.” Paula smiled. She thought about the time she had spoken with Lenny at work. He had talked about the story he told at the pastors’ breakfast. “Yes, my friend Lenny taught me that how we name each other (and ourselves) matters. How we experience being named by God matters (both negative and positive naming).” Amy nodded as she handed the apple cinnamon buns around to her friends. “I realized that there are no helpers and helped. Relationality and companionship imply mutuality. Listening heals both parties. We are always helping and being helped. This shifts the power and opens up possibilities for healing beyond the usual pastoral and social service approaches that invest heavily in one side having it all “together” while the other side is in need.” Paula nodded. “When I heard TC’s story, I could see that deep listening is both a practice and a gift. It requires self-awareness to notice when one is no longer listening but preparing to respond. And when we are truly in a posture of listening, we are leaning forward, reaching toward the other, entering into their story and journeying with them. This is a gift of being fully present, to ourselves and to one another.”
Amy nodded. “I learned that our own personal experiences and how (or whether) we’ve processed them is inextricably linked to how we accompany other people. Our issues are there, they will come up, and they make a difference in the quality of our presence with others.”
Joel smiled. “Yes, Lis’ story showed that creating a safe space is sacred, holy work that has to draw on prayer and spiritual groundedness. It relies on a conviction that we are whole and loved as we are. Living deeply in this belief–really integrating it–so that you can hold that space for others takes spiritual work and is a spiritual journey.” “... Relationality and companionship imply mutuality. Listening heals both parties. We are always helping and being helped. ...”
Paula smiled. “Krista’s story showed us that healing work is layered and complex. And God’s healing love is often surprising and shows up in
They had started off as unexpected places and ways. Tuning in and really trusting how God is a ragged group, worn grounding and speaking to us is a spiritual practice that we can hone.” and tattered by the Joel agreed. “ Yes, as humans, we have anxiety about fixing things. We want to move quickly to order. That anxiety often limits our ability to cares of the world, but be fully present with others. The work of the world is common as mud now they felt lighter, but, when done well, is beautiful and eternal. We have to dive in and positive and filled with do the work, practice, make the small gestures of caring like Emily’s grandmother with her pound cakes.”so much hope. Amy nodded. “That is so true. Even smiling and waving consistently to others over time is a healing gesture. Working together on practical things can be a way to connect across differences and to find meaning and purpose.” Paula, Amy and Joel sat talking for a long time. As the sun started to set, they finally gathered their things to head back home. They had started off as a ragged group, worn and tattered by the cares of the world, but now they felt lighter, positive and filled with so much hope. They had come together every week, connecting through listening and telling stories. They accompanied each other by paying attention, grappling with concepts and committing to sharing how they felt. They created a safe space for sharing, prayed together, and blessed each other with good food and kind words. They didn’t give up but met faithfully, breaking ground so that the seeds of their work could take root. They had found community. They had found their own little congregation in each other.
