Two decades ago I was a member of a modest Episcopal Church which actually was quite a distance away. I went there because the priest who took it over understood the true Gospel message and was a good friend. I told him I would support his efforts if he ever got a parish of his own. Thus I ended up at a church almost 15 miles from where I live which could only be reached by enduring heavy traffic. At the time he took it over, it was dying. Most of the members were those who established it almost 40 years before and were elderly. Plus the neighborhood was changing from white Anglo-Saxon to a greater mix of Hispanic people. It was in transition. They had an ancient organ which had seen better days and needed significant service. There were almost no members younger than 50.
My friend was very renewal ministry oriented and believed in incorporating young people into the life of the church. The 10:30 service, which almost none of the members went to because it interfered with their Sunday golf games, was modified to include modern Christian music and guitars and drums and the liturgy was updated to use Rite C (experimental at the time). Lessons were read from The Message, the modern plain language version of the Bible. Electronic audio and visual equipment was installed so that people did not need to open up a prayer book or follow along in the bulletin. Vestments were eliminated except for the priest and deacon. Sermons were always upbeat about our relationship with God and the call to do something for Him out in the world. It quickly attracted young families and their children. Time was set aside for a candid age-appropriate talk to the children in front of the altar sitting on the floor. Membership went from about 50 to 350 almost overnight.
The members who had founded the church grumbled in the background complaining about hillbilly music and not using Rite A anymore, with its archaic language. They still had their 8 o’clock service which was the same as it always had been, though attracting very few people, usually less than 20. They did not like that teenagers were encouraged to gather during the weekends and evenings and often did things like watching movies and having a pizza party. We also had biweekly sit down dinners to feed any and all comers, whether homeless or someone with $1 million. We didn’t care. All were welcome. We set aside time during the week for meetings by pregnant women (mostly unwed teenagers), substance abusers and others who needed encouragement and support. We provided classroom space for meetings by Integrity, the gay ministry recognized in some quarters by the National Church. We encouraged people to attend Cursillo and Diocesan retreats. The parish had literally been resurrected almost overnight. All these things were met with disapproval by the traditionalists.
The founders who were not happy worked behind the scenes to remove the new rector. After about a year they succeeded in driving him out. The parish quickly went back to the way it always was and the new members quickly disappeared. After a couple of years the Diocese informed the old guard regime that they needed to improve their finances or it would take over the church and sell the facility. Ultimately this is what happened. The magnificent piece of property and its various buildings were demolished. It now sports a brand new apartment complex. No vestige of the parish is to be found. The people who had founded the church in the early 60s were shocked. They insisted that they owned the church and the Diocese could do nothing. They were wrong.
This is just one example of many similar scenarios being played out all over the West Coast of Florida. Change is inevitable. We either adapt or die. What people objected to so strenuously was merely the form of worship, not the core message which is timeless. It needed to be presented in a culturally relevant way. They never understood that.
