The question she posed to me went something like this: “The theater group can’t have their rehearsal in the sanctuary, can they? I mean it’s a ‘sacred space’, reserved for worship only, right?”
I suppose it depends on who’s answering the question what “sacred space” means. Surely there are some who consecrate their church buildings thereby setting them aside from any use other than the church’s worship. There are just as surely others, however, who feel that the space designated for and dedicated to worship by a congregation can also be used for other purposes.
The prayer for the dedication of a church building in the Presbyterian Book of Occasional Services asks the Almighty:
“May this space be used as
a gathering place for people of goodwill.
When we worship, let us worship gladly;
when we study, let us learn your truth.
May every meeting held here
meet with your approval,
so that this building may stand
as a sign of your Spirit at work in the world,
and as a witness to our Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ.”
This does not appear to restrict the use of worship space for worship exclusively. On the contrary, it suggests that other things might take place there, and that not all of them need to be churchly activities. Of course the other uses of the building that Christians use for worship and congregational life should be consistent with Christian values. There are many other potential tenants of a church building who are “people of goodwill” that would “meet with [God’s] approval.”
Many New England churches were built on the town square as meeting houses and were home to a variety of activities, including public debates and political meetings. Serving the community was part of the building’s purpose.
In our time we seem to have forgotten this about the buildings we have. With dwindling congregations and aging buildings, the cost of keeping a structure simply for worship and congregational use is becoming, in many places, prohibitive. Once again, therefore, we’re finding it’s better stewardship to let our spaces be used by others to the benefit of the people around us, than it is to let church buildings sit empty.
It’s not a great stretch to imagine that the building which houses your congregation could be an instrument of mission by making room for groups like Alcoholics Anonymous, child-care cooperatives, food pantries, non-profit service groups, Boy and Girl Scouts, amateur choral and theatrical groups, etc.
The first Protestants used architecture to distinguish themselves. Simplicity was the rule for their buildings: a place to meet, not unlike other meeting places. For them, the church was clearly not a building, but the people. Neither did they imagine for a moment that God could be confined to a particular setting or building. So, a building is only a building.
We easily get invested in our worship space. John Calvin and others cautioned about the theological pitfall of preserving a building as the domicile of the Almighty. To keep others out in order to preserve what is only a building, and keep it for God alone, is nothing short of blasphemy. Jealousy of that sort about a physical structure approaches idolatry.
One result of Christian worship is that we are sent into the world to follow the Risen Christ in service. It is also possible to invite the world into our churches as a way of offering Christian hospitality and help.
So the answer to the question posed at the top of the page would be something like, “If there’s a need to which we can respond, let’s do it. In fact, we should be seeking out those whose needs we can help meet.”
How welcoming is your church to outside groups? Do community groups ever make use of your worship space?
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Pre-Praying
I’m always amused by the announcements to folks waiting to get on an airplane about “pre-boarding”. Those who need special assistance are invited to “pre-board”, whereupon they get up and board the plane. There’s not a lot of difference between “pre-boarding” and “boarding” an aircraft, except that some passengers get on earlier than others.
It strikes me that a similar situation occurs when you consider “Preparation for Worship” and the main event of worship itself. Preparation for worship is much the same as what happens during any service of worship, except that some worshippers get to it earlier than others.
There is a section of the Book of Common Worship entitled “Preparation for Worship”, and it may be one of the best kept secrets of the book, at least for pew-sitters. Because the whole book is not always available in the pew racks in front of them, worshipers are deprived of more than three dozen prayers and meditations designed as lead-ins to the service of worship—unless someone has the foresight to print one in the bulletin.
Worshipping God in an assembly or congregation of Christians requires some preparation. One does not start cold—there needs to be some warm-up. We start in with our own individual prayers that get us on track for the corporate service.
This is the first reason for some preparatory prayers: that we realize we are moving from our individual lives to a life we share with a group of people. Worship is not a solo activity—it is always done by God’s people in the plural, people God has gathered together.
It’s not just realizing that each worshiper belongs to a congregation, but the awareness that we all belong to a global church, a church through the centuries. The Body of Christ to which we belong is much more than the members of a Presbyterian church on the corner.
Making this transition from our individual world to divine worship does not mean leaving our world behind, but bringing it with us. When we do, we discover a unity in the church, the unity of our common humanity as well as the unity of God’s love shown in Jesus Christ. Our needs are strikingly similar to those of the people sharing the pew with us.
Preparation also includes remembering to be thankful in our worship. Worship is essentially thanksgiving—the name given to the Lord’s Supper, Eucharist, literally means thanksgiving. We are there to bless God for blessing us.
The time before worship is a time to meditate, to ponder the mystery of God’s love that brings us life, to reflect upon the week just past, to contemplate challenges that lay ahead, to consider new commitments.
During this time we also simply wake up. Most of us come to church needing to get in focus for what is to come. Worship is work, remember, so we have to pay attention to what we’re doing. The prayers before worship help us be alert to the presence of God and our opportunities to praise our God for love and redemption.
One of the largest problems, however, is that this same time is often used by most people to greet their friends and neighbors and chat about things other than what is about to take place: the worship of Almighty God. It’s an inevitable conflict between having a happy and welcoming congregation and providing a modicum of silence for those who want to prepare themselves for worship.
When there is this kind of conflict, of course, the preparation comes first. Those who would prepare themselves for worship should be accommodated and allowed relative quiet for their meditations.
Yet many congregations go the other way. A noisy welcome period at the start is the sign of a friendly church, they say. After all, we’ll quiet down when the service really starts anyway, so preparing for worship is not necessary. (We don’t need to pre-board anyone—we’ll all get on the plane at the same time, and get there as a group at the same time too.) A tad inconsiderate, I must say.
People need this opportunity to get spiritually ready, and leaders and planners of worship need to make it possible—for those who don’t think they need it as well as those who know they do.
Furthermore, musicians and ministers and lay leaders should take a gander at that same section of the Book of Common Worship where suggested prayers of preparation are available they’ll find useful. If they are not geared up to lead worship, it’s going to be a real problem.
Does your pastor and staff have prayer before the service? Does the choir? How about lay readers? Does your session meet in advance of worship for a time of prayer? Does your bulletin include suggested prayers for the people to use before the service begins?
It strikes me that a similar situation occurs when you consider “Preparation for Worship” and the main event of worship itself. Preparation for worship is much the same as what happens during any service of worship, except that some worshippers get to it earlier than others.
There is a section of the Book of Common Worship entitled “Preparation for Worship”, and it may be one of the best kept secrets of the book, at least for pew-sitters. Because the whole book is not always available in the pew racks in front of them, worshipers are deprived of more than three dozen prayers and meditations designed as lead-ins to the service of worship—unless someone has the foresight to print one in the bulletin.
Worshipping God in an assembly or congregation of Christians requires some preparation. One does not start cold—there needs to be some warm-up. We start in with our own individual prayers that get us on track for the corporate service.
This is the first reason for some preparatory prayers: that we realize we are moving from our individual lives to a life we share with a group of people. Worship is not a solo activity—it is always done by God’s people in the plural, people God has gathered together.
It’s not just realizing that each worshiper belongs to a congregation, but the awareness that we all belong to a global church, a church through the centuries. The Body of Christ to which we belong is much more than the members of a Presbyterian church on the corner.
Making this transition from our individual world to divine worship does not mean leaving our world behind, but bringing it with us. When we do, we discover a unity in the church, the unity of our common humanity as well as the unity of God’s love shown in Jesus Christ. Our needs are strikingly similar to those of the people sharing the pew with us.
Preparation also includes remembering to be thankful in our worship. Worship is essentially thanksgiving—the name given to the Lord’s Supper, Eucharist, literally means thanksgiving. We are there to bless God for blessing us.
The time before worship is a time to meditate, to ponder the mystery of God’s love that brings us life, to reflect upon the week just past, to contemplate challenges that lay ahead, to consider new commitments.
During this time we also simply wake up. Most of us come to church needing to get in focus for what is to come. Worship is work, remember, so we have to pay attention to what we’re doing. The prayers before worship help us be alert to the presence of God and our opportunities to praise our God for love and redemption.
One of the largest problems, however, is that this same time is often used by most people to greet their friends and neighbors and chat about things other than what is about to take place: the worship of Almighty God. It’s an inevitable conflict between having a happy and welcoming congregation and providing a modicum of silence for those who want to prepare themselves for worship.
When there is this kind of conflict, of course, the preparation comes first. Those who would prepare themselves for worship should be accommodated and allowed relative quiet for their meditations.
Yet many congregations go the other way. A noisy welcome period at the start is the sign of a friendly church, they say. After all, we’ll quiet down when the service really starts anyway, so preparing for worship is not necessary. (We don’t need to pre-board anyone—we’ll all get on the plane at the same time, and get there as a group at the same time too.) A tad inconsiderate, I must say.
People need this opportunity to get spiritually ready, and leaders and planners of worship need to make it possible—for those who don’t think they need it as well as those who know they do.
Furthermore, musicians and ministers and lay leaders should take a gander at that same section of the Book of Common Worship where suggested prayers of preparation are available they’ll find useful. If they are not geared up to lead worship, it’s going to be a real problem.
Does your pastor and staff have prayer before the service? Does the choir? How about lay readers? Does your session meet in advance of worship for a time of prayer? Does your bulletin include suggested prayers for the people to use before the service begins?
Sunday, December 4, 2011
God's People at Work = Liturgy
The man came up to me on his way out of church after the service and said, “I didn’t like that thing you made us do this morning!”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “What thing was that?” I asked.
“You know,” he grumped, “that series of prayers when we had to think of all kinds of people and make commitments to help them. That was a lot of work.”
The man had experienced the true meaning of “liturgy”—the work of the people.
My wife says that “liturgy” is a scary word, by which she means that the use of the word tends to turn people off. It sounds technical and scholarly and foreboding to the ordinary people in the congregation on a Sunday morning. Maybe, she says, we need to learn what it really means and use it correctly.
For many clergy and musicians and worship planners, liturgy equals all the words and notes that are assembled to create a worship service. There are prayers and songs and instrumental music and sermons and more prayers, silent and spoken, and creeds and Scripture readings, and so forth—and all these pieces are put together to shape what the people do when they worship God.
Sometimes, however, ministers and musicians focus only on those visible parts of worship: the words, music and rubrics (instructions printed in red in the worship books). But the real “work of the people” takes place elsewhere. The grumpy man who spoke to me had it right—liturgy happens in the hearts and minds of the people in the pews.
The liturgy is not simply in the words spoken by leaders and said or sung aloud by the people, but maybe especially in the thoughts and feelings expressed silently by each person. The work the people do is more than what happens outside—it is also what they experience internally.
Consider this:
When they enter the room, worshippers are conscious of this being a special place. The architecture, arrangement of the furniture, décor, sounds of people chatting and music playing, the smells of flowers and candles, symbols and colors, and so forth—all contribute to establishing a climate in which the people will do their work.
The Prayer of Confession, for example, is usually a broad, generic prayer that will be filled with personal meaning by each individual. Even while speaking aloud, the people are thinking what those words mean for them, and perhaps feeling emotions of regret or release.
As hymns and songs of praise are lifted up by the congregation, strong memories are evoked of previous experiences and growth in faith. The lyrics and tunes being sung give expression to deeply felt convictions otherwise silently held.
The words of Scripture bring forth an encounter with the Word Jesus Christ. Listening to these words is not to be a passive experience. Worshippers bring their own thoughts and current emotions to engage with the biblical text in a conversational way. They listen, and if they hear, they respond in their minds and hearts.
This conversation continues in the proclamation of the Word in the sermon. There are those who consider preaching a one-way communication, a prophetic utterance that does not require, doesn’t even want a response. On rare occasions this may be true. Yet the proclamation by pastor to people is clearly conversational. Obviously, the people’s response is silent and internal. They agree with this point, challenge that one, and find a full range of emotions stirred up along the way.
It’s an interesting experience, to say the least, for a preacher to have a “back-talk” session with pew-sitters after the service—certainly worth doing every once in a while. This gives the preacher some reality check of what his partners in the sermon-conversation are thinking and feeling while he or she is holding forth from the pulpit.
The Eucharist presents other opportunities for the people to do their work. This too is not a passive exercise of receiving. Taking the bit of bread and sip of wine the worshippers in various ways are making a commitment, and in the silence of their hearts are expressing dedication to discipleship. They will be thinking about what this commitment means specifically in their lives, in the life of the church.
The Sending reminds people that their worship and service to God does not end when they leave the building, but continues through life. They will depart with their own thoughts about how they will accomplish that and the feelings of excitement and anxiety that may be with them. Their liturgical work, interior and exterior, will continue.
Everything that takes place in the Sunday service is matched by what is going on inside each worshipper, thoughts and feelings silently registered internally. This is the true liturgy, the true work of the people.
It is vitally important, then, for those who plan and lead worship to be aware of what the people are doing, what the visible and audible elements of the service are prompting and provoking in them.
How do you worship “with head and heart”? Do you ever give the preacher meaningful feedback on the sermon?
I had no idea what he was talking about. “What thing was that?” I asked.
“You know,” he grumped, “that series of prayers when we had to think of all kinds of people and make commitments to help them. That was a lot of work.”
The man had experienced the true meaning of “liturgy”—the work of the people.
My wife says that “liturgy” is a scary word, by which she means that the use of the word tends to turn people off. It sounds technical and scholarly and foreboding to the ordinary people in the congregation on a Sunday morning. Maybe, she says, we need to learn what it really means and use it correctly.
For many clergy and musicians and worship planners, liturgy equals all the words and notes that are assembled to create a worship service. There are prayers and songs and instrumental music and sermons and more prayers, silent and spoken, and creeds and Scripture readings, and so forth—and all these pieces are put together to shape what the people do when they worship God.
Sometimes, however, ministers and musicians focus only on those visible parts of worship: the words, music and rubrics (instructions printed in red in the worship books). But the real “work of the people” takes place elsewhere. The grumpy man who spoke to me had it right—liturgy happens in the hearts and minds of the people in the pews.
The liturgy is not simply in the words spoken by leaders and said or sung aloud by the people, but maybe especially in the thoughts and feelings expressed silently by each person. The work the people do is more than what happens outside—it is also what they experience internally.
Consider this:
When they enter the room, worshippers are conscious of this being a special place. The architecture, arrangement of the furniture, décor, sounds of people chatting and music playing, the smells of flowers and candles, symbols and colors, and so forth—all contribute to establishing a climate in which the people will do their work.
The Prayer of Confession, for example, is usually a broad, generic prayer that will be filled with personal meaning by each individual. Even while speaking aloud, the people are thinking what those words mean for them, and perhaps feeling emotions of regret or release.
As hymns and songs of praise are lifted up by the congregation, strong memories are evoked of previous experiences and growth in faith. The lyrics and tunes being sung give expression to deeply felt convictions otherwise silently held.
The words of Scripture bring forth an encounter with the Word Jesus Christ. Listening to these words is not to be a passive experience. Worshippers bring their own thoughts and current emotions to engage with the biblical text in a conversational way. They listen, and if they hear, they respond in their minds and hearts.
This conversation continues in the proclamation of the Word in the sermon. There are those who consider preaching a one-way communication, a prophetic utterance that does not require, doesn’t even want a response. On rare occasions this may be true. Yet the proclamation by pastor to people is clearly conversational. Obviously, the people’s response is silent and internal. They agree with this point, challenge that one, and find a full range of emotions stirred up along the way.
It’s an interesting experience, to say the least, for a preacher to have a “back-talk” session with pew-sitters after the service—certainly worth doing every once in a while. This gives the preacher some reality check of what his partners in the sermon-conversation are thinking and feeling while he or she is holding forth from the pulpit.
The Eucharist presents other opportunities for the people to do their work. This too is not a passive exercise of receiving. Taking the bit of bread and sip of wine the worshippers in various ways are making a commitment, and in the silence of their hearts are expressing dedication to discipleship. They will be thinking about what this commitment means specifically in their lives, in the life of the church.
The Sending reminds people that their worship and service to God does not end when they leave the building, but continues through life. They will depart with their own thoughts about how they will accomplish that and the feelings of excitement and anxiety that may be with them. Their liturgical work, interior and exterior, will continue.
Everything that takes place in the Sunday service is matched by what is going on inside each worshipper, thoughts and feelings silently registered internally. This is the true liturgy, the true work of the people.
It is vitally important, then, for those who plan and lead worship to be aware of what the people are doing, what the visible and audible elements of the service are prompting and provoking in them.
How do you worship “with head and heart”? Do you ever give the preacher meaningful feedback on the sermon?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
What's New?
The Christian Year began with a bit of an uproar in the churches of our Roman Catholic neighbors. A new translation of the Mass from Latin appeared simultaneously for all English-speaking congregations this morning, the First Sunday of Advent. It’s no surprise that the change is controversial.
The idea, according to those who are behind this change, is to provide a more accurate translation of the Latin words. For example, when the priest says, “The Lord be with you,” or “Peace be with you,” the new response from the people is to be “And with your spirit,” which is a literal translation of “et cum spiritu tuo.” Previously the response was simply, “And also with you.”
The concern, however, was not simply to be accurate, but to get away from familiar speech to a more formal language appropriate to the worship of Almighty God.
The issue of what liturgical language should look and sound like is an old one, to be sure. In living memory, how people spoke and sang in worship (Protestant as well as Roman Catholic) changed because of the Second Vatican Council’s allowing the Mass to be celebrated in languages other than Latin. The English version was produced in 1973 and has been around ever since, up until this morning when the new version appeared.
For Presbyterians, the major shift appeared about the same time with the Worshipbook Services in 1970 and the Worshipbook Services and Hymns in 1972. The controversy then was over “contemporary” language, in particular addressing God with the familiar “You” rather than the more formal “Thee” and “Thou.” *
To many the “new” Mass will seem to be a retreat into the Pre-Vatican II era, or at least an unraveling of the Council’s achievements. Many Protestants will undoubtedly view it as such. To others it will be an accomplishment long awaited. To some, most, perhaps, it won’t matter one way or the other.
However you score the new Mass compared with the old version, the question is clear: How do we find the appropriate language for worship—language both worthy of worshipping the Divine, and capable of meaning to those who use it?
On one hand, it’s the difference between approaching God in awe as the fearsome and holy “Other,” and the “palsy-walsy” treatment of God as our Best Friend and Buddy. Somewhere there is a line which leaves us within reach of both the Almighty Creator and Judge and the intimate Father introduced to us by Jesus Christ.
Therefore, liturgical language is going to need to be theologically sensitive.
On the other hand, much depends on how useful the users of the language find it. Language that is elegant to the point of being stilted may seem pious to some, but it will slip out of reach of many others. A quick read of the new Roman Catholic Mass text leaves me with the impression that it is attempting to be more dignified, but in some places comes off as stuffy and priestly pompous. Certainly this is not a pitfall for Roman Catholics only—Protestants know how to inflate pious-ity in their worship as well.
Therefore, liturgical language must also be familiar enough to the worshippers to fit meaningfully in their mouths and thoughts.
Our Roman Catholic friends will struggle for a time getting used to the new Mass, just as Christians everywhere will have to wrestle with change. Whenever there is reform and renewal, some degree of adjustment is needed. That’s the way growth takes place. Better for us to deal with change than it is for us to go stale with the same-old-same-old worship.
What has changed in the worship at your church in the past ten years? Is the language used in worship your language? Is it too fancy and hifalutin? Or is it too common and everyday?
______
*It is ironic that “thee” and “thou” were originally the familiar forms one used to address family and close friends.
The idea, according to those who are behind this change, is to provide a more accurate translation of the Latin words. For example, when the priest says, “The Lord be with you,” or “Peace be with you,” the new response from the people is to be “And with your spirit,” which is a literal translation of “et cum spiritu tuo.” Previously the response was simply, “And also with you.”
The concern, however, was not simply to be accurate, but to get away from familiar speech to a more formal language appropriate to the worship of Almighty God.
The issue of what liturgical language should look and sound like is an old one, to be sure. In living memory, how people spoke and sang in worship (Protestant as well as Roman Catholic) changed because of the Second Vatican Council’s allowing the Mass to be celebrated in languages other than Latin. The English version was produced in 1973 and has been around ever since, up until this morning when the new version appeared.
For Presbyterians, the major shift appeared about the same time with the Worshipbook Services in 1970 and the Worshipbook Services and Hymns in 1972. The controversy then was over “contemporary” language, in particular addressing God with the familiar “You” rather than the more formal “Thee” and “Thou.” *
To many the “new” Mass will seem to be a retreat into the Pre-Vatican II era, or at least an unraveling of the Council’s achievements. Many Protestants will undoubtedly view it as such. To others it will be an accomplishment long awaited. To some, most, perhaps, it won’t matter one way or the other.
However you score the new Mass compared with the old version, the question is clear: How do we find the appropriate language for worship—language both worthy of worshipping the Divine, and capable of meaning to those who use it?
On one hand, it’s the difference between approaching God in awe as the fearsome and holy “Other,” and the “palsy-walsy” treatment of God as our Best Friend and Buddy. Somewhere there is a line which leaves us within reach of both the Almighty Creator and Judge and the intimate Father introduced to us by Jesus Christ.
Therefore, liturgical language is going to need to be theologically sensitive.
On the other hand, much depends on how useful the users of the language find it. Language that is elegant to the point of being stilted may seem pious to some, but it will slip out of reach of many others. A quick read of the new Roman Catholic Mass text leaves me with the impression that it is attempting to be more dignified, but in some places comes off as stuffy and priestly pompous. Certainly this is not a pitfall for Roman Catholics only—Protestants know how to inflate pious-ity in their worship as well.
Therefore, liturgical language must also be familiar enough to the worshippers to fit meaningfully in their mouths and thoughts.
Our Roman Catholic friends will struggle for a time getting used to the new Mass, just as Christians everywhere will have to wrestle with change. Whenever there is reform and renewal, some degree of adjustment is needed. That’s the way growth takes place. Better for us to deal with change than it is for us to go stale with the same-old-same-old worship.
What has changed in the worship at your church in the past ten years? Is the language used in worship your language? Is it too fancy and hifalutin? Or is it too common and everyday?
______
*It is ironic that “thee” and “thou” were originally the familiar forms one used to address family and close friends.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Icon Makers
I’ll admit it: I like icons. No, I’m not talking about the little pictures on my computer screen. It’s the stylistic paintings of the Orthodox Christian tradition that grab my attention--like those at New Skete Monastery in Cambridge, NY.
I find Orthodox icons often to be exquisite works of art. Even the simplest are captivating in their bold artistic expression. There is a beauty in design and artistry in the choice and blend of color. Now this may be a matter of personal taste, but to many, these representations of holy people of the past are art of the highest order. Icons are often referred to as “the Bible in art” or “theology in color.”
Icons, however, are much more than beautiful illustration. In the Orthodox tradition they are often described as “windows into heaven” as they depict the heroes and heroines of Christian history, first and foremost of whom is Jesus Christ. Iconography is, in fact, founded on the theological understanding of the Incarnation: God has come among us as a real human being, one to be seen, heard and touched.
Icons are not worshipped, of course, but they do prompt us to remember those of the past who have been God’s representatives “in the flesh”. They are our spiritual ancestors, and in a sense, icons become a family album of remembrance.
For many of us in the Reformed Tradition, this is foreign territory. Yet, at the same time, in a very real sense, we become icon makers—especially when it comes to planning and preparing for Lord’s Day worship. What we do in creating the worship experience will provide real-life human expressions of God’s love that came to us once in the real person of Jesus Christ, and is with us yet.
For example:
Putting the sermon together, at least for clergy, is one of the first (and last) things we worry about. Early on in my ministry I remember someone saying that my responsibility in preaching is “to introduce Jesus and then get out of the way.” Now the sermon may be a work of art in itself, eloquent, even elegant—but that’s not the reason sermons are preached. The preacher may be gifted and attractive, but it’s not the preacher’s show. The preacher is to fashion an “icon” to show Jesus Christ to be real and present. The sermon is crafted with words, but it is the Word that is spoken and heard.
In the same way, choral music for worship can be “a window into heaven”. The choir prepares pieces, not for a concert for the people in the pews, but as praise to God with the people in the pews. Music from different periods of history reminds us of our spiritual heritage. Choral and instrumental music will open the windows of our hearts so we can get more than just a glimpse of what God has done and is doing in Jesus Christ.
The prayers of worship are also “icons” to be fashioned with humble and artistic care. Ultimately all prayers are the “prayers of the people” and should be written with those specific people in mind. That is why we use “contemporary language” in liturgy—it’s their work, and should be in language they recognize. More than that, however, prayers in worship point like arrows to the One to whom they are spoken, the Christ in whose name they are offered, the Spirit who empowers each prayer to issue in acts of faith.
The space in which we worship is itself an “icon”. How we prepared that room is important, therefore, so as to create an appropriate atmosphere, appealing to the senses. What we see, hear, touch, smell on entering the service is critical if a “window into heaven” is to be opened. What we taste at the table is a further sensible consideration. Banners, flowers, furniture arrangement, colors of pulpit, lectern and table cloths, music being played, and so forth, set the mood and lead us into the Divine presence.
Sermons, anthems, prayers and the room we’re in, are all “icons”. Their value is not in themselves. It’s not the “great sermon” or the “beautiful song the choir sings” or the “poetic prayer” or even the “lovely church sanctuary”—what really counts is how well they lead us to the Risen Christ.
So how do we accomplish this? It isn’t easy. We can, however, learn from our Orthodox sister and brother icon makers. For them, painting an icon is in and of itself a spiritual discipline. A lot of prayer and meditation goes into the design and craft of such a spiritual work. A lot.
Similarly, prayer is the foundation of preaching. The key to church music is that it is rehearsed in prayer. Even the prayers for Sunday morning rise out of the meditation and prayers of the pastor and worship leaders. Those who clean the space and set the flowers and decorations for worship perform their tasks prayerfully.
In a way, most everything we do to arrange, set up, and prepare for worship is making icons, creating works of art that will open people’s hearts and minds to the presence of God.
Do you find prayer a necessary component in preparation for worship in your church?
I find Orthodox icons often to be exquisite works of art. Even the simplest are captivating in their bold artistic expression. There is a beauty in design and artistry in the choice and blend of color. Now this may be a matter of personal taste, but to many, these representations of holy people of the past are art of the highest order. Icons are often referred to as “the Bible in art” or “theology in color.”
Icons, however, are much more than beautiful illustration. In the Orthodox tradition they are often described as “windows into heaven” as they depict the heroes and heroines of Christian history, first and foremost of whom is Jesus Christ. Iconography is, in fact, founded on the theological understanding of the Incarnation: God has come among us as a real human being, one to be seen, heard and touched.
Icons are not worshipped, of course, but they do prompt us to remember those of the past who have been God’s representatives “in the flesh”. They are our spiritual ancestors, and in a sense, icons become a family album of remembrance.
For many of us in the Reformed Tradition, this is foreign territory. Yet, at the same time, in a very real sense, we become icon makers—especially when it comes to planning and preparing for Lord’s Day worship. What we do in creating the worship experience will provide real-life human expressions of God’s love that came to us once in the real person of Jesus Christ, and is with us yet.
For example:
Putting the sermon together, at least for clergy, is one of the first (and last) things we worry about. Early on in my ministry I remember someone saying that my responsibility in preaching is “to introduce Jesus and then get out of the way.” Now the sermon may be a work of art in itself, eloquent, even elegant—but that’s not the reason sermons are preached. The preacher may be gifted and attractive, but it’s not the preacher’s show. The preacher is to fashion an “icon” to show Jesus Christ to be real and present. The sermon is crafted with words, but it is the Word that is spoken and heard.
In the same way, choral music for worship can be “a window into heaven”. The choir prepares pieces, not for a concert for the people in the pews, but as praise to God with the people in the pews. Music from different periods of history reminds us of our spiritual heritage. Choral and instrumental music will open the windows of our hearts so we can get more than just a glimpse of what God has done and is doing in Jesus Christ.
The prayers of worship are also “icons” to be fashioned with humble and artistic care. Ultimately all prayers are the “prayers of the people” and should be written with those specific people in mind. That is why we use “contemporary language” in liturgy—it’s their work, and should be in language they recognize. More than that, however, prayers in worship point like arrows to the One to whom they are spoken, the Christ in whose name they are offered, the Spirit who empowers each prayer to issue in acts of faith.
The space in which we worship is itself an “icon”. How we prepared that room is important, therefore, so as to create an appropriate atmosphere, appealing to the senses. What we see, hear, touch, smell on entering the service is critical if a “window into heaven” is to be opened. What we taste at the table is a further sensible consideration. Banners, flowers, furniture arrangement, colors of pulpit, lectern and table cloths, music being played, and so forth, set the mood and lead us into the Divine presence.
Sermons, anthems, prayers and the room we’re in, are all “icons”. Their value is not in themselves. It’s not the “great sermon” or the “beautiful song the choir sings” or the “poetic prayer” or even the “lovely church sanctuary”—what really counts is how well they lead us to the Risen Christ.
So how do we accomplish this? It isn’t easy. We can, however, learn from our Orthodox sister and brother icon makers. For them, painting an icon is in and of itself a spiritual discipline. A lot of prayer and meditation goes into the design and craft of such a spiritual work. A lot.
Similarly, prayer is the foundation of preaching. The key to church music is that it is rehearsed in prayer. Even the prayers for Sunday morning rise out of the meditation and prayers of the pastor and worship leaders. Those who clean the space and set the flowers and decorations for worship perform their tasks prayerfully.
In a way, most everything we do to arrange, set up, and prepare for worship is making icons, creating works of art that will open people’s hearts and minds to the presence of God.
Do you find prayer a necessary component in preparation for worship in your church?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Pulpit Humor
Not long ago I visited a church where the pastor was away and a guest was filling in. The itinerant preacher ascended to the pulpit and began with a pronouncement something like this: “I understand that Pastor Jones usually begins his sermons with a joke, so I’ll start with one of mine.” Whereupon he launched into what had the aura of something lifted from the “Church Humor” page of the Reader’s Digest.
Well, his gag barely scored a point on the chuckle-o-meter. And “gag” describes my reaction to it. Such attempts at what is supposed to be humor contribute nothing to proclamation of the Word, and often become a huge distraction—as it was in this situation. We were jolted out of the mode of worship and into something that the speaker thought was entertaining.
Won’t we ever come to understand that entertainment and worship are oil and water—they simply do not mix. When one tries to mix them, entertainment always wins out, floating on the surface.
It’s distressing when preachers try to be stand-up comedians. It so often comes off as buffoonery, and the message suffers because of the messenger.*
I suppose that preachers try this in an effort to meet the folks in the pews on their own terms. It is condescension, stooping down to their level in hopes of connecting with them. It is nothing less than an insult to their intelligence and an affront to their spiritual needs. Congregations do not assemble in churches on Sunday mornings to hear jokes—they come to meet Jesus Christ in the Word proclaimed and to be nourished in the Sacrament Meal.
This kind of joking approach to pulpit humor comes from a misunderstanding of humor and its role in proclaiming the Gospel. Humor is not one-liners or shaggy-dog stories. Humor is wit that shows perception and understanding, and it can provoke laughter.
There is a problem, however, if one goes in the opposite direction and rules humor out of sermons. It’s a mistake to consider “serious” and “solemn” to be synonyms—they are not. Preaching the Gospel is serious business, always a matter of life and death to those who listen and hear. It should not be trivialized by jocularity. Yet it should not be smothered by sober solemnity that is dour and dull.
I’m sure there are preachers who see the humor in life and share it in sermons. I’m confident that many preachers are able to be human and identify with their listeners, as they reveal the real presence of Christ not only in their words, but in their lives. Certainly there are preachers who can find laughter to share in the oxymorons and paradoxes and ambiguities of life and faith.
The point is, when preaching it’s best for most of us not to try being funny just to get a laugh. It’s risking being laughed at rather than being laughed with. Being ourselves is the best approach. If we’ve been paying attention to what happens in life and how God surprises us, there will be plenty of smiles, and even chuckles and joyous laughter.
Do you know preachers who show humor and wit in their sermons without telling jokes?
______
* If the urge ever rises up within you to tell a joke in the midst of or as a preface to your sermon, please sit down and think, until the impulse fades away. If you still conclude that the joke is demanding to be told, then follow these rules:
1. Make sure the joke you have to tell is a really good one and will fill the room with laughter.
2. Make sure it is used to make or reinforce a point in the sermon, so critically that the sermon cannot fly without it.
3. Make sure you can tell it well enough to achieve points 1 and 2. Rehearse it in front of your spouse.
My sense is that it you follow these rules, you won’t be telling jokes from the pulpit.
Well, his gag barely scored a point on the chuckle-o-meter. And “gag” describes my reaction to it. Such attempts at what is supposed to be humor contribute nothing to proclamation of the Word, and often become a huge distraction—as it was in this situation. We were jolted out of the mode of worship and into something that the speaker thought was entertaining.
Won’t we ever come to understand that entertainment and worship are oil and water—they simply do not mix. When one tries to mix them, entertainment always wins out, floating on the surface.
It’s distressing when preachers try to be stand-up comedians. It so often comes off as buffoonery, and the message suffers because of the messenger.*
I suppose that preachers try this in an effort to meet the folks in the pews on their own terms. It is condescension, stooping down to their level in hopes of connecting with them. It is nothing less than an insult to their intelligence and an affront to their spiritual needs. Congregations do not assemble in churches on Sunday mornings to hear jokes—they come to meet Jesus Christ in the Word proclaimed and to be nourished in the Sacrament Meal.
This kind of joking approach to pulpit humor comes from a misunderstanding of humor and its role in proclaiming the Gospel. Humor is not one-liners or shaggy-dog stories. Humor is wit that shows perception and understanding, and it can provoke laughter.
There is a problem, however, if one goes in the opposite direction and rules humor out of sermons. It’s a mistake to consider “serious” and “solemn” to be synonyms—they are not. Preaching the Gospel is serious business, always a matter of life and death to those who listen and hear. It should not be trivialized by jocularity. Yet it should not be smothered by sober solemnity that is dour and dull.
I’m sure there are preachers who see the humor in life and share it in sermons. I’m confident that many preachers are able to be human and identify with their listeners, as they reveal the real presence of Christ not only in their words, but in their lives. Certainly there are preachers who can find laughter to share in the oxymorons and paradoxes and ambiguities of life and faith.
The point is, when preaching it’s best for most of us not to try being funny just to get a laugh. It’s risking being laughed at rather than being laughed with. Being ourselves is the best approach. If we’ve been paying attention to what happens in life and how God surprises us, there will be plenty of smiles, and even chuckles and joyous laughter.
Do you know preachers who show humor and wit in their sermons without telling jokes?
______
* If the urge ever rises up within you to tell a joke in the midst of or as a preface to your sermon, please sit down and think, until the impulse fades away. If you still conclude that the joke is demanding to be told, then follow these rules:
1. Make sure the joke you have to tell is a really good one and will fill the room with laughter.
2. Make sure it is used to make or reinforce a point in the sermon, so critically that the sermon cannot fly without it.
3. Make sure you can tell it well enough to achieve points 1 and 2. Rehearse it in front of your spouse.
My sense is that it you follow these rules, you won’t be telling jokes from the pulpit.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
We're Confessing
Early in my ministry, a prayer of confession was introduced into the order of service, whereupon I was confronted by one of the members during the coffee hour. “I don’t like that confession prayer,“ he said. “I’m not so bad I need to do that every week.”
Well, more than one point got past him.
The importance of confession of sin in worship for any and all of us is that it reminds us of our distance from who God. The challenges of our faith are considerable, and we fall short, often as not. Confession allows us to recognize the forgiving, healing grace of God, and sends us on our way rejoicing. That’s only one point he missed.
The other fumble on his part was that he didn’t see that this prayer of confession was a part of common worship. We’re confessing together. It’s not that we are confessing our individual and personal sinfulness at the same time. Rather we are as an assembly, a group, a body, a people, corporately confessing. We don’t say “I” but “we”.
Of course the Prayer of Confession can prompt in any of us rue and regret for our personal failures. Inherent in the corporate confession is each individual’s personal prayer.
Early in the post-Vatican II dialogue between Protestants and Roman Catholics, I attended a semi-clandestine gathering of both brands of clergy. We began our meeting with a time of prayer led by a priest. The prayer was a Roman Catholic form in which the priest confessed to the people, receiving forgiveness pronounced by the people, and then the process was reversed.
Given the historic situation at the time, this was a powerful experience of mutual forgiveness, both personally and corporately. Protestants and Roman Catholics had plenty to confess before God and one another—prejudice, misrepresentation, hatred, and so forth.
Alot of these sins were (and still are) committed by corporate bodies. When I began in ministry, the session of the church I served required a Roman Catholic becoming a member to be re-baptized. In those days, this was left to the session to decide. If you disagreed with that personally, it didn’t matter—someone else made the decision for you. It was a corporate decision, and if it were considered sinful, it was a corporate sin. (In that instance, the session soon removed that requirement and recognized all baptisms.)
A more current example in the ecumenical realm is the inability of both the Roman Catholic Church and many Protestant bodies to share communion at the Lord’s Table. This is the sin of disunion. Even though a person personally does not agree with such policies, and denounces them as sinful, he or she may participate in the sin as a member of a group that fences their Table to keep others out.
There are many other current situations in which we all participate in sin that needs confessing. When policies and practices of our government violate our Christian consciences in waging war or raping the landscape or oppressing the poor, we all participate in the sinfulness, and are cut off from God—because we belong to the national body.
Prayers always lead to action, or they are not authentic prayers. This is radically true of the Prayer of Confession. Whatever it is that we confess, whether it is our individual failing, or something in which we share because of our membership in some group—whatever we confess becomes a commitment to do something about it.
Prayers of confession are often fonts from which flow the actions of protest. Recognizing what is wrong, what is an affront to God and a conflict of conscience for ourselves, leads us to champion repentant change. This was clearly the case in the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War, and is today evident in how many Christian respond to the war in Afghanistan and the financial policies of Wall street. One has to wonder how many of those occupying Wall Street nevertheless want good dividends on their personal investments. It can get complicated.
It is always difficult for us to extract our personal actions from those of the groups with which we are identified. On Sunday mornings, before God and in front of one another, the Prayer of confession helps us sort things out. Then we take responsibility not only for our own actions, but to challenge and change the sinful status quo championed by the groups to which we belong.
Do you pray your confession “before God and one another” on Sundays?
Well, more than one point got past him.
The importance of confession of sin in worship for any and all of us is that it reminds us of our distance from who God. The challenges of our faith are considerable, and we fall short, often as not. Confession allows us to recognize the forgiving, healing grace of God, and sends us on our way rejoicing. That’s only one point he missed.
The other fumble on his part was that he didn’t see that this prayer of confession was a part of common worship. We’re confessing together. It’s not that we are confessing our individual and personal sinfulness at the same time. Rather we are as an assembly, a group, a body, a people, corporately confessing. We don’t say “I” but “we”.
Of course the Prayer of Confession can prompt in any of us rue and regret for our personal failures. Inherent in the corporate confession is each individual’s personal prayer.
Early in the post-Vatican II dialogue between Protestants and Roman Catholics, I attended a semi-clandestine gathering of both brands of clergy. We began our meeting with a time of prayer led by a priest. The prayer was a Roman Catholic form in which the priest confessed to the people, receiving forgiveness pronounced by the people, and then the process was reversed.
Given the historic situation at the time, this was a powerful experience of mutual forgiveness, both personally and corporately. Protestants and Roman Catholics had plenty to confess before God and one another—prejudice, misrepresentation, hatred, and so forth.
Alot of these sins were (and still are) committed by corporate bodies. When I began in ministry, the session of the church I served required a Roman Catholic becoming a member to be re-baptized. In those days, this was left to the session to decide. If you disagreed with that personally, it didn’t matter—someone else made the decision for you. It was a corporate decision, and if it were considered sinful, it was a corporate sin. (In that instance, the session soon removed that requirement and recognized all baptisms.)
A more current example in the ecumenical realm is the inability of both the Roman Catholic Church and many Protestant bodies to share communion at the Lord’s Table. This is the sin of disunion. Even though a person personally does not agree with such policies, and denounces them as sinful, he or she may participate in the sin as a member of a group that fences their Table to keep others out.
There are many other current situations in which we all participate in sin that needs confessing. When policies and practices of our government violate our Christian consciences in waging war or raping the landscape or oppressing the poor, we all participate in the sinfulness, and are cut off from God—because we belong to the national body.
Prayers always lead to action, or they are not authentic prayers. This is radically true of the Prayer of Confession. Whatever it is that we confess, whether it is our individual failing, or something in which we share because of our membership in some group—whatever we confess becomes a commitment to do something about it.
Prayers of confession are often fonts from which flow the actions of protest. Recognizing what is wrong, what is an affront to God and a conflict of conscience for ourselves, leads us to champion repentant change. This was clearly the case in the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War, and is today evident in how many Christian respond to the war in Afghanistan and the financial policies of Wall street. One has to wonder how many of those occupying Wall Street nevertheless want good dividends on their personal investments. It can get complicated.
It is always difficult for us to extract our personal actions from those of the groups with which we are identified. On Sunday mornings, before God and in front of one another, the Prayer of confession helps us sort things out. Then we take responsibility not only for our own actions, but to challenge and change the sinful status quo championed by the groups to which we belong.
Do you pray your confession “before God and one another” on Sundays?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
