Smallness of Scale

by polly duncan

Last week I was driving through the Appalachian Mountains returning home to central Kentucky from one of our Glenmary missions, St. Teresa of Kolkata, in eastern Tennessee. I have been enjoying that drive for the past few months, going back and forth to lead a Catholic social teaching series for the community there.

I do thank God for the splendor of the Appalachians, which have always captivated me—stretching back to hiking in the White Mountains as a college student in New Hampshire, to our family’s camping trips along the Appalachian Trail, and to my years visiting parishes in eastern Kentucky when I worked for the Diocese of Lexington.

Last week’s drive brought to my mind comments of friends from western states, or my Colorado-obsessed “14-er” son, who turn up their noses at our eastern mountains as being, well, second rate. Remembering those attitudes reminded me of a lens through which Glenmarians and we lay coworkers view our ministry: “Appreciation for smallness of scale.”

And I smiled to myself.

Whether in the context of mountain ranges or church ministry, bigger is not necessarily better. Glenmary serves in rural and small-town counties in the South where there are few Catholics, a significant percentage of the population has no church affiliation and the poverty rate is often twice the national average. In other words, we work in areas that don’t really register on the national church scene, among people generally on the margins of American society who don’t seem to count for much with the powers that be. And we really come to love those people and places.

What Glenmary does is to call together very small mission communities, by reaching out to individuals and families one by one. Years ago, when I led a Glenmary mission in northern Mississippi as pastoral coordinator, I would consider 12 or 15 people coming to worship a great Sunday. In an era of parish consolidation into bigger faith communities or clusters, our Glenmary approach seems rather out of step.

Yet appreciation for smallness of scale is not unique to Glenmary. Is it not the Gospel way? This ministry lens points to the tiny mustard seed and the hidden yeast, the Little Way of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the personalism of Peter Maurin and Dorothy Day, the welcome offered by St. Andre Bessette the doorkeeper, and this sentiment from St. Teresa of Kolkata: “I do not agree with the big way of doing things.”

To us, what matters is an individual. I am about to head out on my daily walk down our rural lane in Kentucky. After more than 17 years, I never cease to be thrilled when I come over a hill and see what we central Kentuckians call “the knobs,” those small hills in the distance.