A stray chicken wandered past the pop up tent as I leaned over a long table as part of a farm crew preparing and packaging food for the Farmer’s Market in Montpelier, VT. I’d taken a part time gig with some friends on a neighboring farm to help make ends meet, and we were getting into the rhythm of the work day. I would be officiating the wedding of two farmers in a few months and one of the other crew members asked, “No offense, but how are you qualified to officiate a wedding?” I took a deep breath. “Well…I’m an Episcopal priest actually.” In a group of 20’s and 30’s that statement is usually met with a few responses: “I believe in evolution,” “I was an acolyte when I was little,” or awkward silence followed by a shuffling of feet away from my vicinity. This time, it was “NO WAY!!” followed by three hours of conversation about patriarchy, tradition, ritual, and community. It was glorious. 

A week later I found myself in a conversation with another priest about my serving on the  supply rota for my diocese. She commented, “Of course! You want to fulfill your priestly vocation.” It’s a common reaction, but one that makes me wonder what she would have thought of my pop up tent conversation in the barnyard. Having left parish ministry, I feel that I am fulfilling my priestly vocation more than I did while working in a parish. Those conversations that explore the role of ritual in forming community are foundational to my calling as a priest, and the widely held assumption that a priestly vocation is confined to the pulpit or altar feels myopic. Of course priesthood is rightfully exercised behind both an altar and a pulpit! But I am eager for a priesthood that expands out of the walls – a priesthood that ministers in the grocery store aisles, preschool drop off line, or even in the barnyard. 

Five months ago, I made the decision to leave parish ministry and focus on the small regenerative farm and retreat center that my husband and I are building in Roxbury, VT. To be honest, I’ve never felt called to parish ministry, but I have felt clearly called to the priesthood. Now, in these spaces where language about religion, and especially Christianity, is often met with skepticism or awkward silence, I’m finding that a patient humility is opening doors to connections that I had not imagined while in the parish. And, even more brilliantly, it comes without the pressing anxiety of building repairs, average Sunday attendance, or pledging units. In the weeks after leaving my parish I was very open about the reasons for leaving, and to my complete surprise I started receiving messages and questions from other clergy people in similar demographics who were also starving for life within parish ministry.

Since leaving parish ministry I have wondered what energy and imagination could be released if we took the time to meet each other where our desires ignite and to craft ministry from that perspective. Imagine, for instance, what a “coffee shop ministry” that was tethered to a geographic region and supported both parishioners from various established parishes and unchurched folks who were curious. Imagine if within a parish system, clergy could consider their time spent in conversation in the grocery aisle and at summer camp pick up just as valuable and essential (reflected by counting it as hours worked) as time preparing a sermon. In fact, imagine that, since a clergy person is always acting as an icon for Christ in community, all clergy are paid a full time stipend regardless of the hours that may or may not be available in a location because of relative poverty. What if building maintenance and upkeep were managed on a diocesan level so that the laity could be free to pour their energy into formation, practice, and fellowship?

After those initial messages from priests trickled into my inboxes I’ve learned that other people are wondering the same things. I have slowly started having more and more conversations with other clergy who are in a similar position: under the age of 40, fairly recently ordained (within the last 6 years), and working part time in parishes. I’ve heard a range of stories about lack of opportunities  that fit their hoped-for ministry, massive disappointment due to the demands and expectations of parish ministry, and a lack of support for attempting to stitch together either two part time ministry jobs or a ministry job and a secular job. The people I’ve talked to are passionate, thoughtful, energetic, willing, and thrifty; I have yet to hear a story involving a situation that was more positive than negative, and I have heard some stories of outright abuse. Hearing these stories over and over has brought up serious questions for me about what priesthood fundamentally is, what we’re asking of priests and deacons in a parish setting, and the people whose calls we are identifying as priests or deacons.  

Over the next three months, a group of clergy in the demographic I have described will be gathering to pray, support, and share deeply about where the challenges are for each of us in our ministry. This work is being supported by Province One through a Sowing Seeds of Change grant as well as The Retreat House at Hillsboro. As a result of these conversations we will share a narrative that combines our stories to offer feedback for the conversations that are happening around how part time parish ministry is being structured in our different dioceses. This group of clergy in Province One is not unique to New England, and unfortunately the reality of clergy leaving ministry within 5 years of ordination is a growing trend. Both the Alban’s Institute and Fuller Seminary have documented a 50% exit rate from ministry for clergy within the first five years.  This is not a case of a generation of priests “unable to handle the stress.” Clearly something is not working well to build up the flourishing of God’s kingdom or Her ministers.

Thinking back to that day of work on the neighbor’s farm, I am truly filled with hope for the future of the church. Interest in God and an eagerness for meaningful relationship and conversation are very much present in our communities. I imagine what the church could be without an insistence on pouring energy into systems of practice that do little to encourage authentic community or deep growth in faith. Frequently in dialogue about these trends and the desire to reach more people, the matter of buildings and land surfaces. After being in these conversations at a parish level and at a diocesan level for 6 years, I firmly believe that the discussion of buildings is a red herring. A building can be an evangelical tool, a symbol for gathering and community, and a place where deep transformation in Christ can happen. I’ve been blessed to witness all of these in existing parish systems. Buildings can also be millstones sapping energy and symbolizing the avarice of the church. In either case, focusing this conversation around the buildings continues the work that those criticizing the buildings are intending to avoid: it focuses more time and energy on the buildings. I believe that we as a body have even more imagination than we have currently released, and I cannot wait to see where the Spirit is leading all of us. Who knows? Maybe there will be coffee shop communities in urban areas. Maybe there will be house churches gathering in circuits around wide geographic regions? Maybe we’ll end up like travelers in the wilderness finding God around a table in a pop-up tent with a group of farmers in the woods of Vermont.