When I have a few spare minutes, I enjoy looking at various parish websites, and reading the histories of different parishes. I make it a point to read the background information for some of the large and famous Anglo-catholic parishes — those places renowned for their beautiful edifices, magnificent music, varied devotional life, and active parish apostolates. Of course, most of them are now on the downward slide, sad to say. Although it was always a struggle to maintain an advanced sense of Anglo-catholicism, today's Canterbury Communion Anglicanism makes it nearly impossible. But there are still remnants of it, holding on by fingernails alone, and the history of those places is fascinating.
Almost without exception, accounts of the beginnings of such parishes include something like, "Saint So-and-so Parish began by meeting in the home of Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so," or "The parish held services at first in the local school room." The majority of those parishes which rose to greatness began in the back rooms of general stores, or in Grange halls, or in the homes of some generous founding member. These histories usually go on to recount the story of constructing the first wooden frame building, and then having to break ground for a larger facility in a better location. The very first Anglican parish I served in Bristol, England started out in a temporary wooden structure which I think began its existence as some sort of army storage shed. After some years it moved uptown and upscale to a permanent church building. Similar stories make up the history of the subsequent two parishes in which I served. Of course, by the time I arrived in these places, they were settled into lovely churches and had stable numbers of people supporting the parish. It wasn't until my family and I arrived in San Antonio that we had the experience of starting "from scratch," in a series of borrowed or rented buildings, and having to unpack storage closets to set things up for Mass.I mention this because I know so many of the parishes coming into the Ordinariates are in those very circumstances. Yes, a few already have lovely and permanent church buildings; however, most of our communities will not be in that situation. In fact, many who are reading this may feel like the Children of Israel right after their escape from Egypt, on the move and yearning for a permanent home. It was several years before our own parish was able to have its own place, with its own address, no longer having to give a long explanation of why someone else's name was on the sign in front of the place where we were meeting.
If you're part of an Ordinariate-bound group which finds itself in that situation, take comfort in the fact that it's not forever. Lots of us started that way, but our circumstances didn't stay that way. Find encouragement by reading the histories of many of the more famous parishes — whether Anglican or Catholic. You'll find pieces of your own history there. And remember, Jesus Himself was born in a borrowed stable.
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What an inspiring article, Father Christopher, and all the more credible since you have actually run the good race through blood, sweat and tears. So it is that we are graced to from you , as it were, the inside scoop straight from the track.
And what is the prognosis for tomorrow?
The same as it is for today: God will be with those who fear Him.
"Give thanks to the Lord for He is Good.
His Mercy endureth forever!"
Thank you again and again, Fr. Phillips, for your encouragement and joyful hope!
A timely reminder, indeed, of that which true mission consists of, namely the willingness to embrace the Lord's Word concerning the mustard seed that takes root, and with proper care and attention, grows into a substantial plant.
I think the Ordinariate may well help the rest of the Church to consider this truth. I think many of us in professional education (even while pursuing our current part-time avocation as church planters), tend to gravitate toward our work with children and young adults because of the potential they represent. Mission plants are like children, they still have room and time to grow rapidly; more settled congregations will also hopefully grow, but there's something particularly satisfying about nurturing something with a yet open horizon before it (ergo the special place of church schools, my Father Christopher, aren't you blessed!).
So, yes, let us take heart, those of us who "despise not the day of small beginnings" because they carry within themselves such rich possibilities. And let us also remember the opening lines of Chaim Potok's book, "The Promise": "Beginnings are hard; all beginnings are hard." So be it. The future belongs to the Lord's own Promise, "I will never leave nor forsake you." Amen!
Inspiring to say the least.
"Unless the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it. Unless the Lord keep the city, he watcheth in vain that keepeth it."