Tumbling Attendance

The parson found himself on a cool Monday morning, a morning that whispered of the possibility of rain and yet was dazzling in its sunny brightness, among colleagues surrounding a table at the parson''s favorite diner. It wasn't a planned get-together. It simply happened. The parson was there early, as was his custom on Monday mornings. The others wandered in one at a time and joined him, pulling a extra table over to join his in order to accommodate the gathered. The parson, at the arrival of the first one, turned off his Kindle and tucked it into his coat .

The gathered brothers and sisters had maneuvered the parson into the corner. He had no escape. The more of them that gathered about the, now, three tables, the more the words of John Muir echoed in his head, “The mountains are calling and I must go.” The parson and his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, had scheduled this day for a hike, one thousand feet down, to the bottom of Cloudland Canyon where Charlie Brown would rest as the parson prayed for strength to hike back up. The uninvited intrusion of the brothers and sisters were delaying his answer to the call.

Soon the parson, as he sipped his decaf and listened to the interchange of the ordained, learned the topic of the week was falling church attendance. The parson learned lots of interesting facts as he listened. He learned that the pastor of the supposedly really big church, was not preaching to many more people that was the parson on any given Sunday despite the fact he had three services. The parson learned that from county seat church to little chapel by the river congregations attendance was down. The parson could not help but feel a bit of comfort in the falling attendance of his brothers and sisters. For, truth be told, his was down also.

The conversation continued. The parson realized that his position against the wall destined his continued listening. He made a hand motion to Louise, the server. She nodded and quickly brought him a fresh cup of decaf. Now there were discussion of why. The pros and cons of the differing strategies to combat the falling attendance was not being discussed.

At one point someone said, “Parson, do you have more than one service?”

“No, we don't,” the parson replied.

“Why not?”

“Well, it's this way,” said the parson. “When your council brought that idea up I told them I was for it as soon as there were chairs in every aisle and speakers were blasting my words to the people assembled in the parking lot.”

“Don't you think more people would come if you had more than one service?”

The parson looked at the pastor of the supposedly really big church and smiled. “Actually, no I don't think that,” the parson replied. “I think if they thought I was actually as good as I think I am they'd come at any time I preach. But, you know, over all the years no one has made that connection.”

“Funny, Parson, funny,” said the pastor of the Chapel in the Woodlands Beside the Bubbling Brook. “But seriously, what about the declining attendance?”

“What about it?” the parson asked.

“What are we going to do about it?”

“I don't have the foggiest idea,” said the parson. “All I know is we can't keep trying what we tried yesterday and the day before, because that doesn't work.”

The parson shifted himself in the chair and then asked, “Would you guys excuse me now. I've got something on my schedule I need to attend to.”