Contributions by Michelle

Our Wednesdays at St. Paul's group has been talking about community. It may not seem like it. It sounds like we are talking about many things. We are discussing the book Room at My Table. We are reflecting on hospitality, and on what it takes to welcome someone. We have been talking about St. Paul's. But as our conversation has ranged from one topic to another, one of the threads that connects these subjects is community.

One night, we puzzled over a reflection in the book, where a small child asks the author "What's that, Miss Evelyn? A contribution?" We wondered how we would answer that child. What does contribution mean to you?

We realized that contributing differs from giving, or from donating. Contribution seems to imply a sense of community. A single contribution to a pot luck dinner, for example, would not be very filling. The pot luck requires a community of contributions, which wind up making a varied and usually very satisfying meal.

We like to say that St. Paul's is a community. That means that the contributions of our members are important to us. I don't just mean financial contributions, although, obviously, we could not keep our doors open without those. But, I believe that everybody has something to contribute which makes our community vibrant and wonderful.

Think about the ways in which people contribute to make St. Paul's a better place. Something as simple as the smile from one of our ushers as they hand you the worship bulletin on Sunday morning may have a huge impact on your worship experience. Maybe the music helped inspire you, or the way one of the readers said something really gave you a new perspective on the prayer or scripture in question. Or maybe, it was simply the fact that you were in a pew, surrounded by other friendly or familiar faces.

No matter who we are, each of us has something to contribute. Today, it seems, so many people feel as if they are unimportant. It leads them not to contribute, and diminishes our community.

In seminary, my music professor used to lament the invention of headphones. In the past, he said, people would sing together: in choirs, in community sing-alongs, in family get-togethers. Music was a community event, and everyone could contribute. Today, he noted, we go to

concerts, and most of the music we hear is made by professional musicians. We listen to them in headphones, and convince ourselves that we can never sound as good as they do. And so we don't even try. As more and more people stop singing, convinced that they have nothing to contribute, the quality of the music goes down. Because, in order to fill a church with song, we need a church full of people singing. When someone feels that they have nothing to contribute, we all lose.

Singing is just one way in which people feel that they have nothing to contribute. But based on people's reactions, I think the sentiment runs far deeper than most people realize. When I tell people I miss them at church, I think that too often, people think I am trying to lay a guilt trip on them. What I mean, though, is that I miss what they contribute.

Twenty years ago, I taught Sunday school. Charlie was in my class; first in the combined fourth and fifth grade class, then in the fifth grade that I taught solo. Charlie was the class clown. He was the kid who always had to be told not to lean back in his chair; the kid who always said "no" when everyone knew the answer was yes. I learned later that his father may have had a serious substance abuse problem, which no doubt influenced Charlie's behavior. It certainly influenced his family life. Whenever Charlie missed Sunday school, I'd ask how he was doing, and say how much I missed having him in class. His parents and grandmother would respond, "Oh, he'll come back soon. Something came up. We know Sunday school is good for him."

They seemed to think that I wanted them to bring Charlie because he was required to be there, or because I thought it was good for him. But, I wanted them to bring Charlie because I missed him in class. I missed his contributions, his smart alec comments. I built entire conversations and lessons around his insights, even when he thought he was just trying to show me up. Just as I built entire lessons around the creative girls, or around the boy who liked to go fishing. Each one of those kids had a role to play in the class. Whether they were little angels who memorized whole chunks of the Bible, or wisecracking kids who kept me on my toes and contradicted me, each one contributed something valuable to the dynamic. When one of them was not there, I missed them.

I remembered Charlie and the Sunday school later in life, when I began to work and to chair faculty committee meetings. In most of my committees, there was always one guy who thought he knew it all. As chair, however, I tried to make sure we heard from everyone, even the people who stayed silent, and thought they had nothing to contribute. I found that the doubters, or the contrarians, often had the most valuable things to say, because they helped clarify our thinking, or to ponder something we had not considered. Though people sometimes thought committee meetings were a bore, I tried to value everyone's contribution.

As a community, I believe each member of St. Paul's likewise has something to contribute. Whether it is a prayer said by someone who is homebound, a donation of cookies to an Episcopal Church Women event, a role in our worship service, or simply a smile to a newcomer at coffee hour or church, each of us has a role to play. We at our best when everyone - even the contrarians - contribute.

Michelle+