It would have been easier if St. Andrew’s, Sutton, Ont., had done nothing. A few dozen people were worshipping on Sunday mornings with all the now ubiquitous demographics and dynamics at play, with an aging populous and hard-set habits. But then they went and did it, they looked into their hearts, they discerned the Spirit at work in their community, and they decided to launch a mission.
Those hairline fractures in the congregational community (what congregation doesn’t have them?)widened and deepened. There was bitterness that hasn’t healed yet and St. Andrew’s found itself with less than 20 on a Sunday morning and no minister. (I don’t want to suggest the mission was the source of these separations but it did become a focal point.) But they had as many as 80 on a Tuesday night.
For eight years now St. Andrew’s has been hosting a Tuesday community dinner in the church basement. It costs more money—but not a lot more, they run it on a separate budget from congregational expenses. It takes a great deal of effort—but they’ve fine-tuned the process, so when I visited on a January evening, I witnessed a well-oiled machine, which kept the warmth of community without the drama of serving a multitude. And it is infectious—not only has the Tuesday night dinner transformed the lives of the church members but also the lives of those they serve and the community at large. The nearby Anglican, Nazarene and United churches, as well as another Presbyterian church, take turns preparing and serving the hot meal.
For those who come to eat, Tuesday nights have become sacramental. That’s a big word, I know, but I’ll stick with it; the lonely seniors, the mentally handicapped, the struggling-working, the edges-of-polite-society who come for the meal also come for the fellowship. Tuesday night is now an opportunity to be served hospitality. That’s sacrament.
The man beside me, a jolly fellow, told me, “I used to be a nasty person; all I did was drink.” The after-effects of an alcoholic’s life were evident in his speech, but there he was in a church being served. At another table a woman who had just gone through some medical procedure could tell her story. Community as a balm to loneliness.
I won’t name any of the Sutton folk here, because I’ll invariably leave out too many. Suffice it to say, the evening is about the church community. It begins with a hymn sing, a raucous guitar leading the way. Then a brief meditation, followed by the meal. It is worship. But it’s on a Tuesday night, in the basement, including some people who would never walk into a sanctuary on a Sunday morning. And it is also transformative for all involved; those few St. Andrew’s members I spoke with may not have a rich theological language, but they could speak about the spiritual change in their own lives.
So much so, last November they opened a food pantry. Everything is donated one way or another; it requires more work and more effort, driving around picking up donated items. But, I suppose, it ain’t work when you’re serving in the name of Christ.
The community dinner has changed St. Andrew’s and Sutton, Ont., in many ways but one. The church is still aging and financially struggling. They don’t cross 20 on a Sunday morning, with a student minister from Knox College leading worship. So, perhaps it would have been easier if they’d done nothing; they’d still be a few on Sunday morning. But then they wouldn’t be able to count the 80 broken souls who break bread on Tuesday nights, the neighbouring churches who participate, the many others who participate distantly through donations as extended members of their congregation.
