Take Me Out to the Church Service

Gerald Calvin, Staff Writer

Thousands of churches have experienced declining attendance in recent years, while in the same period, attendance at major league baseball games has steadily increased. Some church workers like Shaun Giamatti believe baseball can teach congregations.

“Baseball has something we are missing,” said Giamatti. “They get crowds of 40 to 50 thousand every night—unless you’re the [Tampa Bay] Devil Rays, of course—and we’re lucky to get 150 once a week. That begs the question, what are they doing that we aren’t?”

Giamatti sums up the difference in one word: “giveaways.”

Just as the World Series opens up next week, Giamatti’s Sentinel Episcopal Church in Orlando will debut its giveaway plan to increase worship attendance. The Moses bobblehead doll, to be given to the first 200 worshippers, will reinforce Rector Frances McCourt’s sermon on the Ten Commandments. The church hopes it will also lure in a few dozen new members.

Other scheduled giveaways include seat cushions with the text “I am the light of the world” on one side, and an advertisement for Orlando Power and Gas on the other; giant foam fingers that display the peace sign rather than the “number one” typical of sports venues; and Photo Day, where before the service the rector and choir will mingle with the congregation to pose for photos and sign autographs.

And, of course, there will also be a series of bobblehead Sundays. Jesus, Peter, Mary, Jonah and Obadiah are ready, but bobbleheads of McCourt and the choir director will also be given away on the Sundays nearest their birthdays.

Giamatti began working on the plan this summer when he became the Director of Marketing for the church. The position was created in order to address the crisis of declining membership and giving in the 50-year old church. The congregation was once a robust 400-members just 40 years ago, it has shrunk to an anemic 350 since.

“We had a choice: change or die,” said Rector Frances McCourt. “The congregation showed their commitment to change when they created this position.

“The people had been asking the right questions—where are all our children? Why aren’t people as committed as they used to be? Where did the finance chairperson run off to with our Endowment Fund money? Finally, though, they asked an even better question: what can we do about it?

“That’s when we decided to hire a marketing director,” McCourt concluded.

Giamatti seems to be the man for the job. He worked for several summers in concessions for the Florida Marlins. Giamatti said, “I was a glorified hot dog salesman.” He laughed, then became serious again. “Actually, I did sell hot dogs, but I learned a lot in my three years with the club. I’ve seen every giveaway you can imagine.”

That experience is just the magic ingredient Sentinel Episcopal Church hopes will breathe life into its dying soul.

Pastor Finds Empty Church on Easter Sunday

Gerald Calvin, Staff Writer

As she does every Sunday morning at around 9:00, Joanna Terry was putting the finishing touches on her sermon. This Easter sermon was to be a mixture of joy and sorrow for the pastor of St. John’s Presbyterian Church in Seattle. The church is an old one and has been serving downtown Seattle for 82 years. Like many other downtown churches across the land, however, the congregation of St. John’s has experienced a steady decline.

The sermon Terry was to preach this Easter morning was the one to announce the death of the church. She would tell the people that their service to the community was laudable, but the time had come to let go. There was no more life in the church.

Terry never preached that sermon. She arrived about ten minutes before the service--her usual time--in order to avoid the inevitable distractions of parishioners telling her about burnt out light bulbs or dirty restrooms. Something seemed odd, however, as she approached. There were even fewer cars than usual in the parking lot. She did not see the car of the head usher, and wondered if anyone had even opened the front door to the church.

Terry pulled on her robe as she entered the sanctuary. She stopped immediately, stunned. She checked her watch, and indeed, it was nearly 10:00am, the start time for worship. But no one, not one soul, not even old Mrs. Parker, a woman who had sat in the same pew every Sunday for 73 years, was present. The building was completely empty.

The 47-year-old pastor looked around and finally saw a well-dressed man standing near the piano. He said to her, “I’ll bet you are looking for your people. Well, they aren’t here.” He nodded toward the front door and said, “They all left. I’ve never seen a bunch of folks with so much energy. They were alive.” Terry said that the man emphasized the word “alive” so sharply that a chill went down her spine.

The man continued, “Don’t you remember how they told you they were going to leave this place? At that last meeting they said they were tired of waiting around for the leaders to do something about the Gospel, and they were just going to go.”

Terry says she did remember something like that, but, as she went back to her office, she tried to figure out what to do next. Her seminary training never prepared her for anything like this. She called her good friend and colleague, Carl Goodrich, a pastor in a nearby suburb.

“I told Carl he would never believe what had just happened,” Terry said in an interview later that day. “And, of course, he didn’t believe it. He came right over to see for himself. We walked around in that big empty sanctuary. Nothing was left but Emma Townsend’s sweater.”

Mondays are Terry’s days off, and when Tuesday comes, she is not sure what she will do. “I suppose I’ll go back to the office,” she said. “I’ll just do what I know how to do. And there is a report I need to finish.” She paused, and her eyes misted over. “Maybe they’ll come back and see me.”

Basketball Defeats Jesus in Overtime

Luc Richard Limoges, Staff Writer

The heavy thump-thump-thump of the basketball has overtaken the sound of the pipe organ as the most-heard sound at Rolling Meadows United Methodist Church in the suburbs of Portland. The church council voted to eliminate one of its worship services because the service was interfering with one of the four weekly open gym sessions.

Last Fall, when the church embarked on a new, third service of worship on Sunday afternoons, some members argued that is was “only fair” that the church also add a time for playing basketball. The only time convenient for the basketball players turned out to be 9:30 on Sunday mornings, right during the first service of worship. Conflicts were immediate and intense.

“My wife kept nagging me about missing worship,” said Rob Cornerstone, one of the gym rats. “I told her that when I’m out there all by myself in the gym, lining up a three-point shot, I feel God’s presence. I don’t need worship for that.”

Another basketball player, Tony Marzipan, not only stopped attending worship, but brought two of his sons with him to the court. “This is family time,” said Marzipan. “I’d rather have my boys with me than in some strange church listening to a lame sermon.”

Perhaps the most critical defection from the worship service is the church’s pastor, John Passe. Passe, who is also the president of Trailblazer Power, a fan club of the NBA’s Portland Trailblazers, took a lot of heat from his personnel committee for missing the early service. He has a defense, though.

“One of my mentors is the great preacher Fred Craddock,” said Passe. “Craddock says that a minister is not obligated to be everywhere. I lead two services on Sunday. Isn’t that enough?”

The church has also lost a staff member to the change. Associate Pastor Jon Kim resigned when Passe insisted Kim lead and preach at every 9:30 service. Kim, also a rabid basketball player, decided he would quit rather than miss the chance to play ball.

Eventually, the church council decided to take up the matter. A number of members argued that worship should clearly take precedence over a game. The personnel chairperson said that Passe was an employee and should be ordered to attend worship.

Passe, though, had the last word. He produced a chart that showed the average attendance at the basketball sessions compared to worship services. Since 2002, the attendance of the basketball players was more than twice that of the worshipers. The council voted to cancel the early worship service by a margin of 30-2.