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On a tiny one-way street some 15 miles west of
Bethlehem, PA, sat the incredible shrinking Episcopal congregation of St. Elizabeth's.
Shrinking because most people in the town didn't know, or didn't care, they were there;
incredible because despite the odds against their survival, this remnant of 40 or so
people, most of whom were over the age of 50, would make a decision that others rarely
find the courage to make; relocate a 100-year old congregation. Three
years prior to that, at the end of 1998, 52- year old Lynn Wert, a registered nurse and
member of a large, non-denominational church in East Allentown received some unusual
instructions. "You need to go home now," God told her. Wert, who was still
grieving over her grandmother's death less than 24 hours before, didn't have to guess what
the Holy Spirit was telling her. Not long before that, while attending a retreat from
another church she had gone to as a teenager, she heard the same instructions, "It's
good that you came here, but don't do this againit's not your home anymore. St.
Elizabeth's is your home."
Eventually Lynn obeyed her divine imperative and went back to the church she
had gone to 18 years ago. Her mother, Joan Bonekemper, a lifelong member, was also the
church's Junior Warden. But despite the 100% certainty of the call, Wert spent the next
year questioning why. Neither the traditional hymns, or the organ were her style, nor was
she particularly enamored with the style of leadership.
It would take a tragedy in the churchexactly one year laterfor Lynn's heart to
begin to change. One bitterly cold December morning in 1999, she was given the tragic
news. The 60-year old rector had a sudden brain aneurism and died within just a few hours.
Shortly after that, the congregation put out a call for a new rector. But despite their
efforts to "promote" the church, the town and the job, there was no response.
Eventually the Diocese of Bethlehem sent a part-time interim vicar, T. Scott Allen, to
help them regroup and figure out what they should
do next. Allen wasted no time in giving the members the ultimatum: "You can't just go
along and keep doing what you're doing and expect to survive," Allen told them.
"You have to take a serious look at yourself and your neighborhood, then decide who
you are and what you are going to do."
After that "do or die" admonition, the congregation agreed to do some serious
soul searching. To help them weigh their options, the Diocese paid for Percept's Ministry
Area Profile (MAP)a study that Allen admits had to be unpacked in stages in order to
make it more palatable.
"It was interesting because the first thing they saw [on one of the maps] was that
St. Elizabeth's was surrounded by the color yellow, but the color red, on the other hand,
was way out on the outer edges of this vast neighborhood that we were sitting in,"
says Allen.
Yellow, as they quickly identified, was not the color of their true loves' lair, meaning
in demographic terms, they weren't people who were likely to be Episcopaliansnow or
ever. Red, on the other hand, was their kind of folkpeople who would be more partial
to their polity and tradition.
"The first thing we learned was that Episcopalians even had a demographic; in other
words, there were certain kinds of people who tended to go to Episcopal churches,"
says Allen. "And there were strong indicators to prove it. So this made them see why
they had fought tooth and nail all these 100 years to even stay alive in this
neighborhood.
Their choices became clear: 1) stay and keep on doing what they were
doing; 2) hire a part-time priest while the elderly folks came up with some miraculous
ministry idea that would make the people flood in the doors; 3) close and be intentional
about itfarming members out to other Episcopal churches; 4) form a joint
congregation with the local Lutheran church with whom they had shared various ministries;
or 5) change location all together.
Prayer of Jabez
While they were considering their options, using Percept to help them decide,
they added a new element to the decision processa group study on the Prayer of Jabez*.
"Oh that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory," read part of the
prayer. What they didn't know was that two other parishioners had been individually
praying the same prayer before St. Elizabeth's decided to do it as a group.
"I have to admit, I have a bit of a jaundiced view of some of the stuff that the
religious media puts out, but I thought, what do we have to lose," says Allen.
"I'll just ask the parish to pray this prayer for thirty days and see what
happens."
Little did they know that "enlarge my territory" would mean that they would
literally end up moving the entire church.
"We knew that moving was the fifth option on the list, but that seemed more like a
fantasy than anything," said Wert. "On the other hand, in my mind I didn't see
how any of the other options could work." When the four of us, Scott, Joan
Laudenslager (Senior Warden), my mom and myself went to see the bishop to present our
options, we told him, 'Our hearts desire is to stay together. We don't mind becoming new,
but we'd like to become 'new' together!'"

Besides not wanting to be adopted out, they also didn't want to lose the new head of their
familyScott Allen. Unfortunately the odds of that happening were not good. First
they couldn't afford to pay him, and second, the Diocese had a hard and fast policy that a
parish could not hire their interim vicara policy that had never been broken.
What Wert and the others didn't know was that their prayers were about to be
answered"exceedingly abundantly" above all that they could ask or think.
Shockville
The Diocese, it seemed, had just finished identifying a "hot spot": a
location in their area that Percept had identified as having the potential of being an
ideal place for a new Episcopal church start. Schnecksville, the new location, was older
and considerably smallerby about 99,000 peoplethan their existing location in
Allentown. If it was hard to imagine an Episcopal Church in this one stoplight town, it
was even harder to pronounce it. Perhaps if one imbibed a few shots of an alcoholic
beverage, then slurred the word "Snacksville", could it be enunciated well
enough to please even the localsall 6,400 of them.
After identifying the location as Schnecksville, the Diocese approached Allen (who at the
time was seriously considering taking a full-time position elsewhere) with a proposal:
Come and develop a new congregation up there, bringing St. Elizabeth's with you.
Lynn Wert saw some major obstacles to this option. Though she, for one, was willing to go,
she knew that others would not. Her estimation was that in the end maybe only 15-20 people
would end up choosing to relocateand even those
people would be either too old, or have to work full-time, thereby limiting their
involvement. One thing was certainboth groups together still wouldn't be able to
support the new church. Therefore, Lynn told the bishop, they could only seriously
consider this option if the bishop could give them some words they could take back to St.
Elizabeth's so the congregation wouldn't think they had gone insane.
"You don't need to worry, you'll have the money," said the bishop. "When
you sell the building it will be held in trust for when you are ready to buy new property.
Meanwhile, we'll help out with the rent and the remodeling of the interim building."
If that wasn't amazing enough, what the bishop told Lynn and the others next sent them
into shock: "And we'll allow Scott to become your full-time rector." To Lynn,
this was nothing short of "a Red-Sea miracle."
At the annual meeting on January 21, 2002, Allen officially put the idea of closing the
church and relocating before the congregation. As it turned out, all but a few families
agreed to the move.
"People came up to Joan, Scott and myself and said, 'While moving will be hard, it
is, after all, just a building, and we're about more than that,'" says Wert.
"The people who didn't want to go didn't even return to the next servicethey
were pretty upset. On the other hand, I also didn't get married there or raise children
and grandchildren there, so I had to have some empathy for the ones who just couldn't make
the break."
It wasn't an easy gestation period for St. Elizabeth's. Especially because, like Mary and
Joseph, the members suddenly found themselves having to leave their home without really
knowing where they would be giving birth. And, like Mary's cousin, Elizabeth, the namesake
of their church, they felt a bit old to be pregnant with a vision. After all, St.
Elizabeth's had been around 100 years, and many of the members almost as long. Still, it
was blatantly clear God had answered their prayer to enlarge their territory.
"Our emotions ran somewhere between terrified, sad, excited and very
overwhelmed," says Wert. "But we also knew we would not be left alone in this
because we had seen God working so dramaticallyleading right up to the moment where
the bishop said, "I need a people and you need a place, and I'm willing to provide
you with a priest of your choice."
Shuffle off to Schnecksville
On September 5th, 2002, their last day in their old location in Allentown, the
entire faithful remnant of St. Elizabeth's Church began the first step of their journey, picking
up the altar and carrying it down the aisletears streaming freely down everyone's
face. Even their newly inducted priest was visibly moved.
"We all cried," says Allen. "Everybody was moved by it because it was a
congregation that had worked so hard to keep the church open and here we were finally
saying, 'We need to do something else and we're going to step out in faith and leave this
place.' And so the altar was carried out by parishioners, lovingly, and put on the
truck."
Wert still can't recall that day without crying. "It was awesome, so awesome,"
she choked, struggling with her words. "To watch those who were moving with us, and
those who wouldn't be because they valued the neighborhood churchto see them go up
there together and take the linens off the altar that they had dressed so many times...it
was bittersweet. The symbolism was incredible. But the truth is, it was only that moment
that was difficult. Because once you went through the moment, you were free. We knew that
we were heading into a wildernessan unknown placeto become a people that the
Lord had called to that place and for that time. I mean, that's kind of a heavy
responsibility but we also knew that because we are about the business of listening to Him
and seeking Him out, that He was going to provide."
"Promised Land... or Bust" the handmade sign read, draped over the side of the
truck. It was a testimony to St. Elizabeth's faith that like Abraham and Sarah, they were
willing to go forth, obeying God's voice, even though they still didn't have a building to
call home. A church family in their newly adopted city, learning of their plight, offered
their barn for storage. And that is where the "manger" would lie, covered under
hay and straw, waiting for its permanent home. Meanwhile, while the symbols of their
worship would lay, figuratively speaking, "dormant under the dung" the people
bunked up with a nearby Episcopal church that took them in while they kept looking for a
new building.
"It was an amazing thing really," says Wert. "Here we had our last service
on a Thursday. And we had it not because we had to be out, but because we figured that the
longer we stayed there, the less motivated we would be to move on. Well, by the following
Monday, Scott had found the building in Schnecksville that we would end up renting. So, it
was almost like, I'm not going to reveal your new place until you step out of where you
are.'"
Finally, nine months later, near Bethlehem, a church was born. St. Elizabeth's went the
way of many Anglican churches in these post-modern times, finding themselves reborn in a
storefrontalthough in their case it was a former beer distributorship that would
become their new home. Now instead of carpet, stained glass windows and wooden pews, they
would have concrete floors, partitions and folding chairs.
Their first service, held on Advent Sunday, December 1, 2002, was filled with members,
numerous friends and visitors. In fact, there were so many people they ran out of folding
chairs. Once again, St. Elizabeth's was witness to both God's provision and sense of
humor.
"There we were, in the middle of exchanging the peace when the back door opens and in
comes this guy with 30 chairs," says Wert. "He was a salvage contractor
who just happened to have some chairs to sellfor really cheapand he just
happened to come right in the middle of our service! So Scott and I just looked at each
other and said, "Well, I guess we have enough chairs now!"
"There is no doubt this is a whole new world for Episcopalians, because really you
can't deny that the Book of Common Prayer goes better with Gothic!" says Allen.
"At least we always thought it did, but we're learning a lot about adopting liturgy
to new spaces."
One of the things Allen did, for example, was to change the way they did the "Peace
Time"a pre-service ritual in which people greet one another. "I told them
they should start becoming more attentive to new people in the congregation rather than
just start talking about Aunt Minnie's gall bladder surgery or some such thing," says
Allen.
Making Altarations
Some changes, which hearken back to a time far more ancient than St.
Elizabeth's, were actually more appealing to the modern worldespecially Gen-Xers and
Yers. For example, Allen plans to use a square altar vs. the usual octagonal onea
change that levels out the praying field because one side of the alter isn't, by its very
structure, preferred over the other. This translates into everyone celebrating the
Eucahrist equally. The combined changes, including altering the seating to more of a
semi-circle, makes the service more relational.
While Scott's focus has been on implementing liturgical changes, Wert's heart lies more in
the area of hospitalityof making visitors and new members feel welcome. "We
almost can't help being welcoming because that is who we are; we just need to make sure
that what we think is welcoming actually is welcoming," says Wert. "Like the
students at the community college across the street. We'd like to connect with
themto find methods to minister to them in ways they can identify. So we're praying
for ways we can meet their needs by asking them questions
like, "What do you need? Do you need space? Do you need study time? Do you need
tutoring? Do you need someone to decompress with? Do you need a place to be that's
safe?"
Part of what Wert envisions is a separate space from the worship areaa place where
people can come and sit and be still. It would be an area that is never locked, where
anyone can come and reconnect with God. This 24/7 availability was an important part of
her growing up years in the church she had attended and despite the rise of crime and
insurance rates and other sociological factors, she would like that to be part of what St.
Elizabeth's offers as well.
Overall, Wert sees St. Elizabeth's mission not to change who they are, but that who
they've always been will become more visible.
"St. Elizabeth's is, at every level, a healing communityphysically, emotionally
and spiritually," says Wert. Not that we have great visible miracles of
healing," says Wert. "But many people have gone through our community and come
out on the other side feeling betterfeeling more whole."
Through all of these changes, Wert has learned some important lessons about obedience. But
with the hard lessons have also come, as they always do, great blessings. None of those
blessings, she believes, would have happened without concerted and unified prayer.
"I didn't have a fun or even an inspirational time during my first year at St.
Elizabeth's," says Wert. "But what I found was that I had some skills and talents that until
then had not been used. So when the rector passed away and we really needed to come
together as a congregation, I just asked a simple question, 'What can I do to help?' And
because Kay Snyder, Joan and myself were people of prayer we knew that we couldn't do
things without God. So we started everything in prayer. And if we got confused in the
middle of something, we'd stop and pray. When we felt we had a clear answer, we'd go
forward. And if we didn't quite have the answer right, God took our effort anyway and made
something good of it. Individually none of us had any idea what we were doing, but
collectively in prayer everything fell into line one after another. It wasn't designed, it
wasn't plotted. It was more like as one door closed, another one opened, and you could
look at it and say, "I see God in this, I can see that we are okay with
thislet's do it! And that is what we did."
"There was an expectation they would be guided, and clearly they were," says
Jane Teter, the Canon for the
Diocese of Bethlehem. "They talked about things as they were doing them and as things
formed they took it very seriouslyconsidering all the options: the good, the bad and
the ugly. But they did it in a very prayerful environment. They are a courageous bunch of
folks who were willing to take that next step. They said, "We don't know how this is
going to work but here we go!"
Wert sums it up beautifully. "It has been, and continues to be, a wonderful journey
with God. It's a divine adventure and a human adventurefull of hurt feelings and
impatience but also lots of hope, family and support. And really St. Elizabeth's isn't
special. . .we just said, 'Yes.'" -Jenni Keast |
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