As we head toward the end of Lent, I always like to cast my eyes around the church, watching the pews fill up on the Sundays leading up to Easter Sunday. It's my theory that no one wants to be one of those C & E Christians who show up for Christmas and Easter and are A.W.O.L. for the rest of the year. But, there are some people who are part of the Sunday morning No-Show Club for reasons that extend beyond their inability to rise early and they're called Frequent Business Travelers, also known as traversus maximus. We all know the common Frequent Business Traveler (FBT), and, sadly, it's not the world's most handsome newlywed, George Clooney, in the film "Up in the Air". In fact, according to the National Household Travel Survey (2002), the typical business traveler is a white male, aged 30-49 years old, who works in a professional, managerial, or professional position. And, while those airline commercials might fool you into thinking that all business travel is a Shangri-La of on-board first-class cabins with lay-flat beds and 5-star hotels with Michelin-starred restaurants, the majority of business travel is under 1,000 miles from the business traveler's home. In 2013, the United States took the overwhelming lead in countries spending on business travel with $274 billion spent. In 2014, that amount was projected to be $290 billion (according to the Global Business Travel Association). And as the U.S. climbs out of recession, according to a U.S. Travel Association report conducted by Oxford Economics in 2013, every dollar invested in business travel generated $9.50 in increased revenue and $2.90 in profits.
That's a lot of numbers and statistics and while the economic implications are vast, the effects on the spiritual lives of these frequent business travelers and the churches they're not attending is immeasurable. Church communities live or die not only by the ability of their clergy to provide consistent engagement of their congregates, but by the ability of their congregates to consistently engage with their church communities. Engagement isn't just attending church service on the main day of weekly observance. It's going to the potluck supper on Wednesday night, or the Thursday evening choir rehearsal. While churches have been making excellent use of digital tools to engage the religious business traveler from afar, including uploading videos of the Sunday sermon, digitally distributing weekly bulletins, and issuing PDAs to clergy so that pastoral care is an email or text message away, these critical strides still pale in comparison to sitting in the physical presence of other parishioners. The same know-how and ingenuity that make these business travelers highly valued by their companies is the same know-how and ingenuity coveted by churches seeking to build their lay leadership.
Absent the weekly rituals of church community life, the spiritual lives of those on the road, or up in the air, have their own challenges. If your job keeps you on the road and away from your family and home for more than 8 weeks a year, opportunities for spiritual formation are difficult to find and hard to maintain, especially when you're battling jet lag and the wait list of other home-life activities that you've put on-hold because of travel. And never mind trying to schedule dinner or even a coffee with friends you see infrequently because you're on the road so much. A lot of road warriors I know use physio-spiritual practices like yoga, something that they are able to practice irrespective of their business travel schedules and locations. Runners are another group who make that morning jog in Singapore into their own spiritual practice. And some do a quiet meditation in business class while the plane climbs to cruising altitude. But, one thing is for sure, in the journey towards work-life balance, the frequent business traveler still has a long way to go, and hopefully our churches will keep working, prayerfully, to get on board.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Pew for Two: Why Worshiping Together as a Couple Might Not Be a Good Thing
When I was growing up, Sunday mornings were filled with the sounds of black gospel music on local radio station WHUR being played on the car stereo, the smell of Estee Lauder's White Linen, Mom yelling at my sister and I to hurry and dress, and Grandma gently chiding my mom for making us four leave so late for Mass. After Mass, there was stop off at the local bakery for cheese danish, cinnamon buns, and an eclair or two. Then Mom and Grandma would start cooking Sunday dinner and by the time that dinner was served, Dad would make it home. Dad went to a different church - a small, charismatic Christian church of 50-60 members that was different than our sprawling, Roman Catholic church which could have 300 people attending just one of our three Sunday services.
Having a dad who didn't attend Mass with us made us unique at our church. Sunday was the day when the dads, many of whom came from very modest financial means, would put on their one good suit and parade their families down the red carpeted aisle to sit together as a family unit. As a child I always wished that our dad would put on his best suit and join us, too, but I also knew that even though Dad didn't go to our church, he was faithful. Dad would rise at 5:00am every Sunday to drive the church van, providing a ride to church for members who needed it. Dad also headed up the tape ministry, providing audio and, eventually, video tapes of the Sunday services for those unable to attend. He served as his church treasurer and believed in the practice of the biblical tithe. He visited parishioners who were in the hospital and he read from his Bible every day. Mom's devotion to her religion was no less strong, though it was more suited to her introverted personality. Mom sang in the choir and she attended Mass almost every day during her lunch hour thanks to the Catholic Church across the street from her office. My parents found a way to honor their commitment to each other, and to honor their commitment to their faith.
When I got engaged, I promised myself that my Sunday mornings would be spent with my husband and I side-by-side in a pew built for two. Now, 14 years later I can say that this has produced some fairly mixed results. Before I met my husband, I had been a member of a United Methodist church located in Washington, DC. The congregation was a great mix of races, classes, sexual orientations, and households. I sang in the church's amazing choir which meant spending every Sunday in the musical playground that is the Methodist hymnal. I was in my early twenties, a recent arrival in the city after completing my masters degree, and I was hungry for the sense of community that I'd had in my university setting. I met my husband a few years later and made the tough decision to move to the suburbs and to a church home nearer to us geographically and nearer to his faith tradition. That this church was less diverse than my Methodist church was evident from our first Sunday, but I figured it was best for our marriage to be in a place that was comfortable for my spouse. And my gamble paid off for my husband who has been an active and engaged volunteer from the beginning. Having grown up in this faith tradition, he had a rich personal and family history of service to draw on and he has had a stellar track record as a volunteer. For me, though, the introverted singer, it's been a struggle. In an extrovert-heavy church full of Type-A's who have a high tolerance for church committee meetings and a knack for getting things done, it's been hard to find my spiritual groove, and I think, at some point, I stopped looking for it.
Does this sound familiar to you? Churches often take couples and families as a package, assuming that they can find an activity or practice that will involve each member of a family to their satisfaction and that they have a community who can, and are willing to absorb the new members into the community's fold. There are a lot of cases where this works. But, when it doesn't, it's a slow march into a spiritually lonely place. A church might have all of the "right" things for one half of a couple, but still not feel like home to the other half of that same couple. There's an old blues song that has the refrain, "if it don't fit, don't force it," and that's what a lot of people, myself included, have done or are doing when that pew for two feels more like a cage for one. Some have just disappeared - opting out of Sunday service altogether. A few have migrated to other churches. And others, who are now in the midst of raising their families in the church, will drop out after their children start attending or graduate from college. But, what are we waiting for? What are we afraid of? Are we afraid that the couple who can't pray together won't stay together? But, shouldn't the fear of falling apart spiritually override the fear of drifting apart as a couple? I can tell you from unfortunate first hand experience that feeling nothing is the worst feeling you can have, especially when you've had the experience of deep spiritual connection. So now my hard work has begun. I've made good friends in our church and so I work on those relationships, developing them into friendships and enjoying the company of those good people. I take a Sunday or two and head to the local Baptist church when I'm in need of gospel music. The next step is to find a place to sing on a few Sunday mornings, maybe a place with a Methodist hymnal that used to be my spiritual home once upon a time and where I can find a place to meet up with my husband for a Sunday brunch where we can share with each other what we did at church today:)
Having a dad who didn't attend Mass with us made us unique at our church. Sunday was the day when the dads, many of whom came from very modest financial means, would put on their one good suit and parade their families down the red carpeted aisle to sit together as a family unit. As a child I always wished that our dad would put on his best suit and join us, too, but I also knew that even though Dad didn't go to our church, he was faithful. Dad would rise at 5:00am every Sunday to drive the church van, providing a ride to church for members who needed it. Dad also headed up the tape ministry, providing audio and, eventually, video tapes of the Sunday services for those unable to attend. He served as his church treasurer and believed in the practice of the biblical tithe. He visited parishioners who were in the hospital and he read from his Bible every day. Mom's devotion to her religion was no less strong, though it was more suited to her introverted personality. Mom sang in the choir and she attended Mass almost every day during her lunch hour thanks to the Catholic Church across the street from her office. My parents found a way to honor their commitment to each other, and to honor their commitment to their faith.
When I got engaged, I promised myself that my Sunday mornings would be spent with my husband and I side-by-side in a pew built for two. Now, 14 years later I can say that this has produced some fairly mixed results. Before I met my husband, I had been a member of a United Methodist church located in Washington, DC. The congregation was a great mix of races, classes, sexual orientations, and households. I sang in the church's amazing choir which meant spending every Sunday in the musical playground that is the Methodist hymnal. I was in my early twenties, a recent arrival in the city after completing my masters degree, and I was hungry for the sense of community that I'd had in my university setting. I met my husband a few years later and made the tough decision to move to the suburbs and to a church home nearer to us geographically and nearer to his faith tradition. That this church was less diverse than my Methodist church was evident from our first Sunday, but I figured it was best for our marriage to be in a place that was comfortable for my spouse. And my gamble paid off for my husband who has been an active and engaged volunteer from the beginning. Having grown up in this faith tradition, he had a rich personal and family history of service to draw on and he has had a stellar track record as a volunteer. For me, though, the introverted singer, it's been a struggle. In an extrovert-heavy church full of Type-A's who have a high tolerance for church committee meetings and a knack for getting things done, it's been hard to find my spiritual groove, and I think, at some point, I stopped looking for it.
Does this sound familiar to you? Churches often take couples and families as a package, assuming that they can find an activity or practice that will involve each member of a family to their satisfaction and that they have a community who can, and are willing to absorb the new members into the community's fold. There are a lot of cases where this works. But, when it doesn't, it's a slow march into a spiritually lonely place. A church might have all of the "right" things for one half of a couple, but still not feel like home to the other half of that same couple. There's an old blues song that has the refrain, "if it don't fit, don't force it," and that's what a lot of people, myself included, have done or are doing when that pew for two feels more like a cage for one. Some have just disappeared - opting out of Sunday service altogether. A few have migrated to other churches. And others, who are now in the midst of raising their families in the church, will drop out after their children start attending or graduate from college. But, what are we waiting for? What are we afraid of? Are we afraid that the couple who can't pray together won't stay together? But, shouldn't the fear of falling apart spiritually override the fear of drifting apart as a couple? I can tell you from unfortunate first hand experience that feeling nothing is the worst feeling you can have, especially when you've had the experience of deep spiritual connection. So now my hard work has begun. I've made good friends in our church and so I work on those relationships, developing them into friendships and enjoying the company of those good people. I take a Sunday or two and head to the local Baptist church when I'm in need of gospel music. The next step is to find a place to sing on a few Sunday mornings, maybe a place with a Methodist hymnal that used to be my spiritual home once upon a time and where I can find a place to meet up with my husband for a Sunday brunch where we can share with each other what we did at church today:)
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