We were coming after 8:30 Mass at Julie’s church and arrived a few minutes before the worship service while they were doing their religious education program. But the distinction between religious ed and worship was minimal, almost non-existent. Attendance at both was near-universal (about 110 total) and much of the worship itself was religious education. There was a series of 15 minute’ish sermons (delivered by various men), broken up by some four-part a capella singing (beautiful), recitations from a Bible verse they were memorizing and kneeling prayer (a surprise the first time, as they all spin around suddenly to face the back, kneel and pray).

It’s probably one of the most religiously conscientious communities I’ve seen. A lot of the service involved reviewing belief structure. Their book of discipline is very slim, not much more than a tract, but it’s something they use and they spent part of the time reading from it. Much of the worship hour was meant to reinforce who they were, why they were and how they were–to explain over and over why they led their distinctive life. Theirs is a voluntary association for those who agree to follow the authority of the group’s teachings. I suspect that every adult in the room could give a detailed presentation on conservative Mennonite faith and give detailed answers about points of doctrine. At the risk of inserting my own opinion I will venture that the worship service felt a bit dry (as Julie said, there wasn’t a ounce of mysticism in the whole proceeding) but I don’t think the members there would feel offended by this observation. Exciting the senses is less important than reviewing the values and living the moral life.

Visually, the group is striking. Every man in the room wore a long-sleeved white dress shirt buttoned all the way up, dark pants and black shoes; all had short hair and only one or two had facial hair. I was more distinctively plain in my broadfalls and suspenders but the effect of sixty-or-so men and young boys all dressed alike was visually stunning. Like a lot of plain peoples, the women were more obviously plain and all but one or two wore lightly-colored cape dresses and head coverings (I later learned that the exceptions were newcomers who weren’t yet members). Seated was segregated, women on the left, men on the right. Gender roles are very clear. There were kids–lots of kids–all around, and a big focus of the sermons was family living. One extended sermon focused on discerning between providing well for one’s family vs. greed and the balance between working hard for your family vs. giving up some things so you can spend time with them. Kids were present throughout the service and were relatively well behaved.

The church itself was called a meetinghouse and was plain–no crosses of course. People sat in pews and there was a raised area up front for ministers and elders. The building doubled as a schoolhouse during the week and its schoolrooms had a lot of Rod and Staff books, familiar from our own home schooling. A member described the school as one leg of the three-legged stool, along with church and family. If any one part of the equation was lacking in some way, the other two could help insure the child’s moral welfare. School was free for church members but was open on a tuition basis to non-Mennonites. These outsiders were required to make certain lifestyle choices that would insure the school stayed relatively pure; the most important requirement was that the family not have a television at home.

My regular readers will have one question on their mind right about now: did anyone invite us to lunch? Why yes they did! We didn’t even have to prompt it. We knew a couple there–M and J, who run a restaurant in the local farmer’s market, a favorite Saturday morning stop for us. They took us under their wing when they recognized us, sitting with us during worship and then showing us the school. J said that if we came back again we could come over for lunch. Then she backtracked and offered that we could come now, explaining that the church had had recent discussions over whether it was too pushy to ask first-time attenders to lunch or whether they should restrain themselves and invite them on the second visit. Wow, a church that thinks about this?!

So we followed them to their place for lunch. It was a wonderful opportunity to ask more questions and get to know one another. Meals are important. Julie and I had wondered why there were Mennonites in Vineland NJ of all places–and two Mennonite churches at that! Short story is that there had been a civilian public service facility in Vineland for conscientious objectors and Lancaster-area Mennonites decided that “the boys” stationed there needed the grounding of a local church community (apparently other C.O. camps were scenes of debauchery–Mennonite drag racing in Colorado Springs was cited). This became Norma Mennonite Church, which still exists and is another local church I’ve been meaning to visit for years (hi Mandy!). In the 1960s, there was a great round of liberalization among Mennonites, an unofficial abandonment of the distinctives codified in their books of disciplines. Many churches split and the Vineland Church was formed by those members of Norma who wanted to maintain the discipline.

This probably explains the strong focus on the rules of the discipline. For those wanting more of the histories, I commend Stephen Scott’s excellent “An Introduction to Old Order and Conservative Mennonite Groups” along with anything else Stephen Scott has written. The Vineland congregation is part of the Eastern Pennsylvania Mennonite Church conference, profiled on pages 173–176. A lot of the Mennonite issues and splits are echoed among Friends and we’d do well to understand these cousins of ours.

The result is a church that’s big on group practice: the dress, the lifestyle. M. told me that they don’t believe in theology but in Biblicism. He explained that they don’t think the Bible contains the word of God but instead that it is the Word of God and he paused to let the distinction sink in. The Bible is not to be interpreted but read and followed, with special attention given the gospels and the letters of Paul.

So no, I’m not going to go Conservative Mennonite on you all. I have a TV. My profession is web design (they’re not into the internet, natch). I’m married to a praciticing Catholic (I don’t know how they would bend on that) and at this point my brain is wired in a curious, outward way that wouldn’t fit into the normative structures of a group like this. Doctrinally-speaking, I’m a Friend in that I think the Word of God is the Inward Christ’s direct spirit and that the Bible needs to be read in that Light. There’s a lot of people who wouldn’t fit for various reasons, people who I would want in my church (they maintain a hard line against remarriage after divorce and I didn’t even ask about gay issues). But I have to admit that the process and structure puts together a really great community of people. They’re hard-working, kind, charitable and not nearly as judgmental as you might imagine–in practice, less judgmental than a lot of progressive religious people I know. Non-resistance is one of the pillars of their practice and they were genuinely interested in Julie’s Catholic church and my experiences among Friends and we talked a fair bit about Islam.

Normally I’d give a big thanks to the church and M & J here, except I know they won’t read this. I am grateful to their kindness in sharing their church, beliefs and family meal with us.

Peggy wrote that she wants to make herself “available for the Saturday afternoon free time for a conversation with any Friends who want to drop in and crash the party.” That sounds good to me! If I can rearrange some childcare schedules, I’ll try to make that. That would be Saturday the 28th from 1:00–3:30pm.

• Peggy’s blog post about the workshop
• QuakerQuaker Events listing
• Pendle Hill’s listing

The Diocese of Camden is in frantic spin control mode after yesterday’s revelations that Bishop Galante personally received $400,000
from high flying Eurotrash con man Raffaelo Follieri for the sale of a
beach house the Bishop had been unable to unload. Follieri’s the guy
who’s been trying to buy up Catholic church properties across the
country while making out with his Hollywood girlfriend on San Tropez
beaches and partying it up with Bill Clinton’s sleezy billionaire
buddies.

It seems like a pretty clear cut case. Galante had his hand in Follieri’s cookie jar.
Sold his beach house to the guy who stood to profit most from the
Bishop’s plan to sell off half of South Jersey’s churches. Oldest story
in the book. Give him the cell next to Follieri’s and they can reminisce about
the good old days (NSFW).

I’ve been wondering just how the Diocese would try to spin this story
as it waits for federal investigators to come knocking at the door. And
today the official Spokesperson in Charge of Fairy Tales called up all the papers. Ladies and gentlemen, we present you with:

The Andrew Walton Idiot Defense

Turns out someone at the Vatican called someone at the
Diocesan offices back in 2004 telling them to sell to Follieri. That’s
it. No one can remember who made the call. No one can remember who took
the call. For all we know Follieri filled his mouth with cotton balls
and did his best Marlon Brando imitation from the pay phone across the street.

The Archdioceses in Boston, New York, Newark and elsewhere told Follieri they had enough bridges thank you very much, but poor Grandpa Joe was confused and started lending him priests and giving him the keys to the beach house.

How could anyone imagine that Follieri was a crook? He seemed like any
other Mother Teresa choir boy with his $10,000 suits, New York penthouse,
heroin habit, convicted mob associates, San Tropez weekends and expensively-maintained Hollywood girlfriend. “Nobody was aware of problems with Mr. Follieri or his company at that time.” Yeah right. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. And I’m the widow of the late John Paul II, recently deceased President of the Vatican, with frozen assets in Nigeria I’d like your help in securing. Please email me back at your earliest convenience Andy Walton, I know you won’t be disappointed.

When diocesan officials come by to read this blog (and they do now), they will smile at that last sentence and nod their heads approvingly. The conspiracy is real.

But I don’t want to talk about Catholicism again. Let’s talk Quakers instead, why not? I should be in some meeting for worship right now anyway. Julie left Friends and returned to the faith of her upbringing after eleven years with us because she wanted a religious community that shared a basic faith and that wasn’t afraid to talk about that faith as a corporate “we.” It seems that Catholicism won’t be able to offer that in a few years. Will she run then run off to the Eastern Orthodox church? For that matter should I be running off to the Mennonites? See though, the problem is that the same issues will face us wherever we try to go. It’s modernism, baby. No focused and authentic faith seems to be safe from the Forces of the Bland. Lord help us.

We can blog the questions of course. Why would someone who dislikes Catholic culture and wants to dismantle its infrastructure become a priest and a career bureaucrat? For that matter why do so many people want to call themselves Quakers when they can’t stand basic Quaker theology? If I wanted lots of comments I could go on blah-blah-blah, but ultimately the question is futile and beyond my figuring.

Another piece to this issue came in some questions Wess Daniels sent around to me and a few others this past week in preparation for his upcoming presentation at Woodbrooke. He asked about how a particular Quaker institution did or did not represent or might or might not be able to contain the so-called “Convergent” Friends movement. I don’t want to bust on anyone so I won’t name the organization. Let’s just say that like pretty much all Quaker bureaucracies it’s inward-focused, shallow in its public statements, slow to take initiative and more or less irrelevant to any campaign to gather a great people. A more successful Quaker bureaucracy I could name seems to be doing well in fundraising but is doing less and less with more and more staff and seems more interested in donor-focused hype than long-term program implementation.

One enemy of the faith is bureaucracy. Real leadership has been replaced by consultants and fundraisers. Financial and staffing crises–real and created–are used to justify a watering down of the message. Programs are driven by donor money rather than clear need and when real work might require controversy, it’s tabled for the facade of feel-goodism. Quaker readers who think I’m talking about Quakers: no I’m talking about Catholics. Catholic readers who think I’m talking about Catholics: no, I’m talking about Quakers. My point is that these forces are tearing down religiosity all over. Some cheer this development on. I think it’s evil at work, the Tempter using our leader’s desires for position and respect and our the desires of our laity’s (for lack of a better word) to trust and think the best of its leaders.

So where does that leave us? I’m tired of thinking that maybe if I try one more Quaker meeting I’ll find the community where I can practice and deepen my faith as a Christian Friend. I’m stumped. That first batch of Friends knew this feeling: Fox and the Peningtons and all the rest talked about isolation and about religious professionals who were in it for the career. I know from the blogosphere and from countless one-on-one conversations that there are a lot of us–a lot–who either drift away or stay in meetings out of a sense of guilt.

So what would a spiritual community for these outsider Friends look like? If we had real vision rather than donor vision, what would our structures look like? If we let the generic churches go off to out-compete one other to see who can be the blandest, what would be left for the rest of us to do?

I guess this last paragraph is the new revised mission statement for the Quaker part of this blog. Okay kids, get a step stool, go to your meeting library, reach up high, clear away the dust and pull out volume one of “A portraiture of Quakerism: Taken from a view of the education and discipline, social manners, civil and political economy, religious principles and character, of the Society of Friends” by Thomas Clarkson. Yes the 1806 version, stop the grumbling. Get out the ribbed packing tape and put its cover back together–this isn’t the frigging Library of Congress and we’re actually going to read this thing. Don’t even waste your time checking it out in the meeting’s logbook: no one’s pulled it down off the shelf in fifty years and no one’s going to miss it now. Really stuck?, okay Google’s got it too. Class will start shortly.

On Tuesday night Bishop Galante and his posse came to visit St Mary’s and were greeted by an overflow crowd. He came with charts and a game show host of a priest for MC who tried to start the meeting with a pasted-on smile and crowd-control speaking rules. The St Mary’s parishioners were having none of it. There were over five hundred people in the pews asking why the Bishop wanted to shut down a church with sound finances, an impassioned priest, an involved laity and the wherewithal to continue another hundreds years.

“Vibrant” has become the Bishop’s stock answer, his new favorite code word. Like a President backpedaling on the rationales of an unpopular war, his spokespeople have admitted under pressure of evidence and easy solutions that the closures aren’t due to a priest shortage,  financial problems at the targeted churches, or the lack of lay participation and involvement. The only explanation the bishop can offer for closure is “vibrancy.” But every time he tries to define “vibrant” he ends up describing St. Mary’s and dozens of other local churches he wants to close.

There’s obviously more to the definition than he’d like to share. One parishioner asked whether he thought a small church was even capable of displaying the “vibrancy” he demands. He refused to answer, which suggests we’ve finally dug down to a real answer. His fix for South Jersey is Megachurches that cop strategies from the Evangelical movement and consolidate power more closely in the diocesan offices. 

The bishop gave the church-saving movement its best metaphor when he disparaged the little churches he wants to shutter as “Wawa churches.” Readers from outside the Mid-Atlantic region might know that Wawa is a local convenience store chain but that’s like saying water is a common chemical compound. You can’t drive more than twenty minutes without passing three Wawas. South Jersians practically live there. The bishop might was well condemn motherhood, baseball and apple pie if he’s going to take on South Jersey’s Wawa.

One disgruntled “Catholic in name only” campaign supporter rose to reclaim the Wawa label, saying that all these little churches were indeed like Wawa: ubiquitous, open at all hours, with good food that brought people in. The bishop obviously prefers the Walmart model: big box, big parking lot, hidden Eucharists, gameshow-host priests and clowns for music directors (seriously: check out this post of Julie’s and scroll down to the Greatest American Hero dude). I’m not sure why someone who dislikes Catholic culture so much would want to become a priest and I’m really not sure why someone who dislikes South Jersey culture so much would agree to be its bishop. One blogger recently wrote “I have gone through enough mergers and consolidations to know one thing
is true: reductions in manpower and assets are made for tighter
control” which sounds like as good an explanation as any other I’ve heard. Power and money: same as it ever was.

I was following the kids around outside for much of what turned into a speak-out session but I got to see twenty seconds of my wife Julie’s testimony on the Fox affiliate’s 10 o’clock news. Julie had THAT LOOK when addressing the bishop. It’s a look I know too well, it’s a look that means “I’m right, I know it, and I’m not backing down.” If I’ve learned anything over the course of the last seven years of marriage it’s that I don’t stand a chance when Julie gives me THAT LOOK: it’s time to concede that yes she is right, because any other option will just prolong the pain and delay the inevitable. I saw hundreds of people giving the bishop that same look last night.

It’s nice to see South Jersey standing up to an outsider who hates its culture and wants to force change for the sake of his own power and profit. We get a lot of it down here. The power guys usually end up winning: the woods get chainsawed and the farmlands buried under vast expanses of generic box stores and cookie-cutter McMansions financed by Philly money and greased by the pro-development laws of North Jersey politicians. I could be wrong, but after this week I don’t think the bishop stands a chance. The question now is how long he’s going to prolong his . And how many churches will he succeed in taking down in the name of “vibrance?”

Tags: southjersey, catholic, st mary’s, malaga, nj, diocese of camden, bishop galiante, farmers, italian, authenticity