This past weekend, members of Munger Place United Methodist Church said goodbye to their place of worship in a Celebration of Life event on Saturday, and a final service on Sunday. The closing events for the 96-year-old church were reminiscent of services held for elderly people we've known, who've been critically ill for decades and pass away at last, after one final attempt at life support. Feelings are mixed at such events, as the kids, grandkids and cousins gather. Is it proper to tell some funny stories from long, full life? Is it okay to feel relieved that this life has passed?
Such was the atmosphere at this weekends events--a few tears shed, a lot of stories told, lots of hugs, people taking pictures, emails exchanged with promises to keep in touch.
We joined Munger Place in 1990, mainly because we were looking for a place to get married, we were both Methodists, and if we joined they'd let us have the service there free of charge. What a bargain! So we joined.
But we didn't want to be the kind of people who would take such a generous offer and give nothing back, so we stayed. Over the years, we served on many "visioning teams" focused on the future of Munger Place--a church at a crossroads, literally as well as figuratively. The historic building is not nestled into a cozy neighborhood, it's at an intersection that cars speed past on their way to somewhere else.
Among those who did stop to visit and worship were the people Jesus called "the least of these," the unemployed, people stuggling with addiction, those seeking a more fulfilling life experience than that which was offered by the restaurants and bars on Lower Greenville Avenue. Munger Place welcomed those people to come right in through the front door, which is what attracted us to the place and kept us coming back. As children, we remembered collecting canned goods for the needy, but we never actually saw any of those people. They wouldn't have had the right clothes to wear on Sunday. They wouldn't fit it.
At Munger Place, none of that mattered. Everybody was welcome.
In retrospect, it's possible Munger Place's decline was accelerated by the very openness that made it so unique. Not everybody is comfortable sharing worship with "the least of these," especially the obviously mentally ill.
When we joined, there was a man we called "The General," who wore boots and camoflage to Sunday services. Instead of taking a seat and listening to the sermon, he would walk up and down the aisles grinning at everybody--and it wasn't a happy grin, it was kind of a scary, demented looking grin.
One of the first meetings we attended was on the topic of what to do about people like "The General." We couldn't ask him to leave, but his presence was disconcerting. Should we offer classes on how to behave during church? If so, how do we steer marginal people towards a class like that, without making it look like they're being singled out?
Out of that meeting came a new Sunday School class, led by a woman trained in adult special needs education. Although "The General" had stopped attending services long before the class started, others flourished in the class. We never knew exactly what went on in that class, but started seeing a difference in some of the people who "didn't fit it." To make a long story short, they started to "fit in." The same people who might have been rejected by another congregation were welcomed into ours.
But when you're in an historic building, survival always depends on money, and that's one thing we didn't have a lot of in our final years.
The roof needed repair, the air conditioning needed to be replaced, the pipe organ needed to be refurbished, the electical wiring needs to be replaced, the elevators in the sanctuary building and education building are out of date and need replacement, the Fellowship Hall floods periodically and needs new flooring--as a congregation, we found ourselves crushed beneath the weight of all the building's pressing needs.
In 2004, we took a vote on closing the church. There were some who wanted to give up on the building and conduct services in a warehouse space, like the "mega churches" do. The majority, however, voted to remain open, with the understanding that we could not continue unless we had either a huge increase in membership (preferably members with a lot of money), a grant, or some other option.
In a meeting with the District Superintendent, Elizabeth Blessing proposed the idea of creating a "mission station" church, and asked that Munger Place be the first such designated church. Her idea was that Munger Place would be an urban mission of a larger church. Instead of serving in South America, for instance, a church could use our facility to serve the needy in our own community.
The idea of a mission station church was formally adopted at Annual Conference, but there was no indication that Munger Place was being considered for this pilot program. In 2006, Elizabeth formed a committee to pursue it, but as far as we knew, nothing came of it.
But, as we learned at our Celebration of Life service on Saturday, Munger Place was not forgotten, and Elizabeth's idea was being taken seriously at the conference level.
The future of the Munger Place building is the first of its kind in the United Methodist Church, where a ministry of another United Methodist Church will renovate the building of a closed congregation, instead of building a new addition to the expanding church.
The people of Munger Place UMC, who've worked so hard and prayed so hard for a way to serve God at the crossroads of Munger and Live Oak in East Dallas are thrilled with the Highland Park proposal, and wish them much success with their expanding contemporary ministry.
For more photos from the weekend events, visit Linda's albums on Flickr:
Munger Place: a celebration of lifeMunger Place final serviceMunger Place: A final look
