Stewards of Culpeper: You can make a difference in our town

Are we proper stewards of our community? Of Culpeper, our people, our resources?

My earliest recollection of stewards was the Philippine sailors who took care of the officers on my ships. These sailors were a carryover from the Spanish American War where they were allowed to join the Navy and hopefully gain their citizenship or enough money in retirement to live like a king in the Philippines.

They were very, very good at what they did. They cooked and cleaned for the officers and freed the officers to run the ship. They had the accountability for the wardroom and officers quarters, but they did not have control — the captain did.

My Oxford English Dictionary defines a steward as a person employed to manage another’s property. Peter Block in his book “Stewardship” further expands on that definition to include management accountability without control.

So as stewards of Culpeper we are accountable for but not in control of our community. This lack of control is a direct result of the very nature of our democratic society, where each individual’s inherent rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are paramount.

Our community is made up of this collection of free individuals sharing our home and our culture. My world sees community in three layers laid on top of each other: a community of family and friends, a community of neighbors, and a community of strangers.

First, the foundation is the community of my family and friends. This is my world, my comfort zone; the people I care for, I worship with, I play with, I grieve with; in short, people I love. 

The second layer is the community of my neighbors — the circles of acquaintances at work, at the chamber, the club, the coffee shop and so on. Socially and culturally, they are my people; people I easily interact with on a routine basis. They are people like me.

The final layer and furthest from my comfort zone is my community of strangers. These are people I don’t know, may never know, and in some cases don’t want to know. They are the hardest to know. They are the homeless, the prisoners, the hungry, the lonely, the sick, the poor. They are very different from me.

Interestingly, to be a steward to each of these three communities requires the same commitments in varying degrees. We must first be there, have a presence in the community.
Secondly, we must genuinely respect each of the members of the community and the community as a whole.

Third, we must spend our physical and financial resources and energy to enrich each community to make it better.

Fourth, we must be in love with the community and let it freely show through our passion to make it better.

Finally, we must lead; be willing to immerse yourself in the community to make a difference. 

You have no control over any of these communities, but as a steward you are charged and held accountable to make a difference.

Simply put by John Wesley (1703-91), founder of Methodism and my spiritual guide, we are challenged to:

Do all the good you can,
By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
As long as you can.

Meriwether’s column runs every other Thursday.