Transcendence

I was talking with a couple over lunch at a day-long event held at a local monastery of the Orthodox Church of America. We were discussing the paths we’d travelled that led us to an interest in the Eastern Orthodox experience of worship.

This couple had travelled some distance across several state lines to reach the monastery for this event, and had come a long way on their common spiritual journey as well. As I recall, they had started out as Presbyterians, growing up as such, but as adults moved to become Lutherans; next stop was the Episcopal Church, and from there to Roman Catholicism; finally, at long last, they found their home in the Orthodox Church of America.

“What was it you were looking for,” I asked, “that you found in the liturgy of the Orthodox Church?”

“We can answer that in one word,” the man said, and his wife chimed in, “Transcendence.”

It was the beginning of a long conversation to explore the landscape of that word. Transcendence has to do with apprehending reality beyond what we can grasp and see. In worship, we look for the presence of God in the risen Christ and the movement of the Spirit.

I understood what they were saying, for I also have found that experience of “transcendence” in Orthodox worship. Yet I’ve found that it’s also possible to experience transcendence in Presbyterian worship, even if sometimes we make it difficult to do so.

I pondered for a long time the sequence of denominational traditions my friends had followed: Presbyterian to Lutheran to Episcopal to Roman Catholic and finally to Orthodox. So what changes from one to the other that leads to a greater experience of “transcendence”, a greater perception of the real presence of the Divine in our midst?

Here’s a sweeping generalization: The change from one to the next that opens the doors to “transcendence” comes from heightened expectation.

Presbyterians, generally speaking, have low expectations about what’s going to take place in worship. The idea that they will have a significant encounter with God in the proclamation of the Word is a fleeting notion. That the Living Lord will become a part of them in the Eucharist is for many beyond comprehension. Not expecting much in the way of transcendence, Presbyterians don’t experience much.

Folks haul themselves to church on a Sunday morning more to stay in touch with friends than to be touched by God. The earthly relationships are more urgent than the transcendent one. They expect and look forward to the one, while the other doesn’t get much of a thought.

Too many come to church without any notion that they might be touched by God and become very different people on the way out than they were when they came in. Change is not on their personal church-going agenda. Not only do many not expect such an encounter, there are those who don’t want it.

The same is true for leaders and planners of worship. For them the questions are, Do we expect to encounter God in the process of selecting hymns, rehearsing the choral pieces, writing prayers, crafting sermons, setting the décor, printing the order of service, etc.? Is all this just dull routine work, or is it exciting for what it offers to us who are doing it? How seriously do we consider that what we are preparing is really making way for God to be present? Is the worship order merely an agenda of items to be checked off? Are the anthems merely performances? Is the sermon only a religious essay?

If what is anticipated in the worship service is a personal and corporate meeting with the Risen Lord, then a bit of “fear and trembling” is in order. This is not a casual event, and yet it is so often treated casually in a folksy manner, and planning and preparation is too often incidental and even fluky.

Climbing up the rungs in the denominational ladder, you’ll find that the Lutherans, Episcopalians, Roman Catholics and Orthodox take this transcendence business more seriously that most Presbyterians do. Perhaps they express more clearly that it is God who is the object of worship, and that standing in God’s presence in worship requires reverence. Quiet humility is the worshipper’s approach; gratitude and praise is the joyous response. The reverent and dignified view of worship tends to encourage expectations of God’s present and saving grace.

What is more, we should be excited about the possibilities for ourselves and for everyone who comes to worship with us, the possibilities of this radical grace touching lives, hope for new life, love chasing out bitterness.

Then, perhaps, everyone would come to church with the same kind of anticipation of transcendence, expecting to be in touch with God, to be touched at the depths by the Spirit, and to be sent into the world to follow a living Lord.

How do you anticipate encountering God in worship?