Notes From My Knapsack 2-9-17

Notes From My Knapsack — Granville Sentinel 2-9-17

Jeff Gill

 

Educational essentials then and now

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Reading in history can be illuminating, but to be perfectly frank it can also be depressing at times. There are themes and ideas that keep coming back; it's been said that history does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

 

Charles Browne White, "the Sage of Mount Parnassus" recorded some of the minutes of "The Centerville Farmers Club," a gathering of agriculturalists from north and east of the village of Granville, Newark-Granville Road in another century being known as "Centerville Street."

 

In 1876, as the Newark courthouse was being erected to no small controversy, as property taxes were being raised to build it, even as a financial panic gripped the country as a whole, the farmers of the township met . . . one of them had this to say about our public school system:

"One of the best. I thoroughly believe in it, so long as it secures to all a plain, common education. But in these days it does not stop at that. The languages, music, drawing, etc., are being taught. These should be discontinued. There is a loud call for economy in our families, in time, labor, clothing, etc."

 

In every era, this debate has to be taken up again. What are the basics, what is necessary, and what is an extravagance? Meanwhile, tax cuts on the federal and state level are accompanied with mandates and non-negotiable requirements to local governments and school districts, which are forced to ask for additional tax levies to cover the gap between what they are required to do and how they are funded. If I were in a more cynical mood, I'd call it a shell game, and one where our schools and communities are left holding the empty bag.

 

In fact, this same 1876 worthy (you can look up the details in seven volumes preserved by the Granville Historical Society) said this as well: "Much is made about the poor being unable to live. If this is true, it is owing largely to their aping the rich in dress, in extravagant style of living, in burying their dead, etc. These things should be corrected." One wonders what the "etc." stood for in the unrecorded portion of the club discussion, and then sighs. Or at least I do.

 

It's true, poverty isn't what it used to be. No one lives on the edge of town in a dirt floor shack, with barefoot children who own one pair of winter shoes with holes patched by newspaper. Yes, some get assistance today who have access to amenities our grandparents could barely dream of.

 

But this is where history is an uncertain guide. The nature of education in 2017, the reality of the economy in the present day, call on us to make different calculations about what must and will be tolerated in the public sphere, and how we pay for what we define as basic or necessary. "What was good enough when I was a kid" will only tell us what was true within those parameters.

 

Today, poverty means no access to dental care; lack of access to a car means destitution the poor of a hundred years ago couldn't imagine. The idea that you could not even hope to find a job within thirty minutes' brisk walk? Incomprehensible. When I was in school, I was taught penmanship, typing, and learned how to set type in a printer's stick during shop class. My son learned none of these things, for which I am wistful, but not regretful.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think is essential in education at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 2-4-17

Faith Works 2-4-17

Jeff Gill

 

Planning is something you need to plan on

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As a parish minister, I've been thinking and planning for the fall stewardship education program.

 

Lent and Easter, you say? What about that? March 1 is Ash Wednesday, and April 16 is Easter, but most of my programmatic and thematic planning for that was done last month. Yep, January wrapped up my anticipation of the spring, and February has me thinking about July and October.

 

No, really.

 

The tail end of January, as the financial reports summarizing 2016 were coming in and the giving reports for the last year were being prepared, was when I pulled together all the "yearbook report" materials for my denominational offices.

 

That makes February a good time to anticipate the fall, and get set to do the stewardship and finance outreach needed in our neck of the woods.

 

Ideally, stewardship teaching and reflection should be part of our faith community life all year long; part of our discipleship growth in each month, every week in some sense.

 

Which is why we still have an offering as part of our gathering around the table, not just to put cash and change and checks in the plates, but to bring forward (in our congregation each week) the elements of communion, and to celebrate them together as we prepare to receive our blessing for the week ahead.

 

But there are bigger picture items and small detail elements that are worth sharing, that help us in our decision making in both giving and working into the mission of the local church. The utilities have to paid each month, whether the attendance was up or down; there are supplies that have to be purchased to clean and maintain the building (and restrooms!); personnel costs are more complicated than they were a generation ago, when one retired bookkeeper with a ledger and a pencil could manage church accounts for even a large congregation.

 

Now a relatively small church needs some care and attention to deal with financial matters, and many hire outside firms to assist or even to do most of it.

 

So often, though, it does come back to the individual worshiper and what they believe, what they know, and how they decide when the offering plates are passed. I was on vacation last week, and like most clergy, I can't attend a church service and give nothing even when it's said firmly from the pulpit that "guests are reminded they need not give, but are welcome to be with us as you seek a church home; members are reminded of our need to be responsible for the work we share."

 

It was a good statement in evangelistic terms, but my problem is that I know too much. I know that visitors use paper towels in the restroom, expect heat (or air conditioning) in the sanctuary, contribute to the overall wear and tear of the building and grounds even if they don't contribute to the offering. Good policy to affirm that giving is not expected or required, but I put a twenty in the plate anyhow.

 

What clergy and churches alike often struggle with is longer term planning. How much do we need to set aside as a cash reserve? We tell families they should have at least three months basic expenses in an emergency fund: is that true for a faith community? And then there's the bigger anticipations, like replacement for a roof, complete renovations or repairs to a boiler or HVAC system, painting costs for a worship space that might be well beyond the abilities of well-intentioned volunteers.

 

Many churches – all I've ever served, in fact – tend to say "our people step up when there's a need" and that's true, usually . . . but is that the best way to handle such things? When you know roofing materials have a 25 year lifespan, or that your boilers are rated at 30 years tops; when history in your building says major repainting happens every ten years or so, and the sound system's last overhaul is still memorable to your treasurer . . . those sorts of needs can be plotted out in advance, and anticipated. Which is good to prepare for, because there will always be those events you can't: the government selling your wireless device bandwidth and forcing you to buy all new mics, or the winter you call the plow guy fifteen times, not five.

 

How does your church plan pragmatically?

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him how your church deals with practical preparation at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 1-28-17

Faith Works 1-28-17

Jeff Gill

 

Aspirational goals and Bible reading

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Recently, the Barna Group, a research and resource company focusing on Christian trends, released the results of the latest in an ongoing series of surveys about Bible reading.

 

They've been around since 1984, and for the last five years they've worked with the American Bible Society to assess American Christian habits and practices around Bible reading.

 

Two-thirds of those already reading the Bible say their time and commitment have stayed about the same in 2016, with a quarter saying it has increased. A significant number would like to spend more time than they do in study of the scriptures, but more express that goal than – at least by their own self-reporting! – actually get around to doing so.

 

You can see more about these surveys at their website, www.barna.com; in general, the folks behind the study say that it's very like gym memberships at the start of the year. Resolutions start out with good intentions and high aspirations, but just as this week starts an annual drop-off of all those new treadmill runners and weight bench occupants at the fitness centers, folks tend to drop off what was a sincere desire to go deeper in "the Word" in 2017.

 

I think there's another useful comparison here: just as you can start out with too aggressive a goal, lifting too much weight, pushing to run before you've even acclimated yourself to walking a mile here and there, so you can set an unrealistic goal in Bible study.

 

As a pastor, you may be surprised to hear how often I push against the idea of "reading the Bible right through." Yes, some people do that every year, and bless 'em. It's not the only way, just as running a marathon is not the only way to put one foot in front of the other in exercise on the street.

 

The Bible is largely not a chronological read. It is in stretches, which itself then confuses people when it seems as if the narrative doubles back on itself  - which it does, and as you learn about how these 66 books came together into one weighty volume, it does so within a certain structure that itself teaches us something about how God speaks to us through it.

 

And then there's Leviticus. Third book of the Bible if you're heading in front to back. Asking a relatively new Bible reader to take on Leviticus is like handing a Faulkner novel to a fifth grader. Give it time, let it speak when the reader is ready, but don't start there. Just don't!

 

Here's one thought: start out with a pattern of Psalm reading. Read two a morning. Read them, reflect on them, spend some of your own prayer time with the Lord, then read them a second time. And so on. Yes, that means that by the end of January you will have not even gotten halfway through just Psalms, but this isn't a race, it's not a project to prove something, not to God or to fellow believers. Let the Word of God speak, and that's not an experience limited to those who've read the entire volume.

 

Or pick a gospel. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John. I'd start a new reader on Luke, some pastors say Mark (it's very short, Luke is very reader friendly). One chapter a day, maybe even half sometimes. Read, reflect, pray, read again.

 

Just like gyms and coaches, different pastors might suggest various training programs, and most of us are also willing and able to craft a plan for Bible reading to particular persons: you, for instance. Sure, just ask them. Honestly, nothing would make most preachers happier than having someone say "could you help me develop a reading plan?"

 

The most frequent reason I see and hear as to why folks with good intentions tend to drop off is just like what wrecks fitness plans: some mix of presumed expectations and guilt push them to try too hard, and then collapse in a heap. But any walking in the fresh air is better than not exercising at all; any regular pattern of reading, even if you put Revelation and Daniel off until much later, is going to let the Bible bless you much more than limiting your intake to what you hear read on Sunday.

 

Why read the Bible at all? Well, the Barna folks say 57% of those surveyed had an answer I think is quite correct. They said it draws them closer to God. And that's all the reason I need to hear.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what your Bible reading practices are at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter. (Seriously, I'd love to hear what patterns some of you use!)

Notes From My Knapsack 1-26-17

Notes From My Knapsack 1-26-17

Jeff Gill

 

This village of ours is theirs, too

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We live in a Granville which was settled, historically speaking, in 1805, but there's historical documentation for Welsh pioneers from 1802, accounts of those passing through in 1751 and 1773, and the so-called settlers were not, surely, discoverers.

 

The thousands of years of Native American occupation has left marks on the land in earthwork architecture, and objects that Thoreau evocatively called "mindprints" all over the landscape, "artifacts" in a more scientific mode we might say.

 

The design and sequencing of the projectile points made from flint tell a multi-thousand year story (often called, inaccurately, arrow-heads even though many or most of them were hand-held stone spear points and sometimes simply tools wielded in a leather-padded hand).

 

So we Euro-American occupants of the land have it in trust; it has been "ours" in the sense of a dominant group's hold for over 200 years, but as Ohio-descended Native American Indians start to return from Oklahoma and Kansas and beyond to visit, to ask questions, we find our stewardship today to be something more tangible.

 

In the same manner, new residents arrive, and the older occupants look askance at their ways, their expectations, their assumptions. This, too, is part of the stewardship we have for this village of ours, this awkward dance of approach and distance that has played out for generations.

 

Coopers and blacksmiths and farmers came from New England, displacing hunters and gatherers; grocers and clockmakers and architects moved in among the early American village lots, and new ways pushed against the old. Wells were filled in downtown and water was piped in; railroads and interurbans came and made horses nervous and livery stable operators even more so.

 

Now the opening of a highway, flowing without interruption from the Blue lots at the airport in Columbus to the Thornwood Crossing exit, means a new resurgence of commuters into this village of ours. Questions about school programs and crosswalks unsettle assumptions long unchallenged. Expectations continue to shift, and press, and force changes from the downtown core to outlying school buildings still in sight of plowed fields and grazing flocks.

 

John Sutphin Jones knew something about bedroom communities, even if he didn't know the phrase. He came to Granville seeking a town house, a country house, and ultimately a guest house, as his business sprawled from Sunday Creek's coal seams down near Chauncey to the Chicago office building he worked in at the time of his death in 1927.

 

Today, his town house is the home of Denison's president, Monomoy Place; the college owns his guest house the Granville Inn; our village as a whole possesses his country house, the Bryn Du Mansion. The Sunday Creek Coal Company is no more, and the Old Colony Building in Chicago itself is student housing. Now our Granville school district stretches up north of Dry Creek and south far beyond the expressway, even past Union Station.

 

So in truth this village of ours has never really been ours, not ours alone at any rate. We have a trust, a responsibility, even when the title is not entirely clear, to care for this land and these roads and streets and schools and businesses, not for ourselves but for those who are coming to live here next.

 

And they could be, if history is any guide, almost anyone.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him about your sense of stewardship here in Granville and environs at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 1-21-17

Faith Works 1-21-17

Jeff Gill

 

Faithfulness and trust part of the problem

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If people don't believe that congregations can be faithful, whose problem is that?

 

Right, it may not be always or even often true, but the old "perceptions are reality" line kicks in with a vengeance here. If church folk just keep saying "we are constantly seeking to follow our Lord as best we can" and others don't believe us, then there's got to be at least a portion of the burden on our shoulders: we have to prove it. We have to show our faithfulness to God's call on our lives every day.

 

And yes, even just one failure along the way has a lasting and wide impact.

 

There's another side to this dilemma of credibility and witness for people of faith, and that's trust. Not much of it out there these days.

 

I don't trust the media, and I are one. I mean, look where you're reading this, right? But I know much of TV and online and even print media is focused on stirring up worries, anxieties, even fears, since that's what makes you keep watching, turning the page, clicking and clicking further into the website.

 

I don't trust those who call me. My landline (yes, yes, let it go, I have reasons) means I get, do-not-call registries aside, lots of "survey" and solicitation phone messages when I get home. My cell is starting to get spam calls; at the church, especially in the afternoon, the phone when it rings is always some poor cold calling sales guy pushing copier supplies, curriculum, cleaning gear. Click.

 

I certainly don't trust my email anymore. I have six addresses I have to check regularly, and they all are a source of ongoing frustration. Spam blockers and screening tools and filters all take time themselves, and yet the flood of skeezy messages I need to not click on continues to grow.

 

I don't trust politicians. And I know quite a few, actually, some of whom I consider friends, and many of whom I think more highly of than they themselves might realize. But I've been about the work of "lobbying" since I was a teenager, in my home state of Indiana, in West Virginia, and here in Ohio. I've been to the rodeo, and know most of the clowns, and the bulls. Sometimes, you step in it. Sometimes, folks try to hand it to you and call it a bouquet of flowers.  That's how the process works at times. So you look for yourself before you step.

 

In fact, I don't trust my own denominational structure. They're working hard, and trying to hold together a long-standing set of assumptions not to mention properties, and juggle declining giving with increasing expenses (as are many local congregations), but I've heard presentations on how "things are looking up next year" so long I can whisper the next lines to myself as they speak. They can read trend lines and balance sheets as well as I can, and they say what they say and do what they believe they have to do. I respect what they have to do, but I'm careful about taking them at face value. Or to be blunt, I don't always trust them.

 

But I certainly don't trust consultants and experts anymore. They've sold more sunshine than anyone these last few decades to church groups, and get out of town before the rain gets hard. They have this year's big thing in a new package, and they know we're willing to overlook our qualms and quash our doubts enough to buy another round of advice and slate of suggestions . . . which will be forgotten by the next year, except for the file drawer half filled with the unused workbooks and partial bag of leftover keychains.

 

You can add your own. We do not trust. Not Professor Harold Hill who just got off at the depot, not Rev. Eric Camden, and not even President Josiah Bartlet. We want to trust, so we love those idealized figures perhaps a little out of proportion to what they can actually teach us . . . and then actually feel betrayed if the actors doing the portrayal don't live up to our needs.

 

And it ends up in our not trusting God. Or at least we mistrust the fabrications we prop up in God's place. And the hope I see in this untrustworthy era is that we might just knock down enough of those false fronts, fake gods, and start to relate to the real One behind them all.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's not offended if you don't trust him implicitly, either. Tell him about where you put your trust at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.