I’m probably as touchy as the next person when it comes to criticism about worship services I’ve planned or led. On the other hand, I like to think I’m smart enough to learn from the critic’s viewpoint.
That’s why I’ve taken seriously the critique fired off by Russian Orthodox Bishop Hilarion Alfeyev at the beginning of a long lecture on “Orthodox Worship as a School of Theology.”
Setting up a contrast to Orthodox worship, the Bishop has this to say about non-Orthodox services he’d attended over the years:
“Protestant [and Catholic] services as a rule are comprised of a series of isolated, incoherent prayerful actions…. The services are interspersed with explanations by the clergy, who tell their congregation in which hymnal and on which page a certain hymn is to be found, and whether they should sing it while standing or remaining seated….”
The hardest part of hearing evaluations like this is having to agree with them. On this one, the Bishop has got us in the spotlight.
I’ve attended my share of worship events that have followed what is rashly called an “order” that I suspect was determined by throwing the items down a flight of stairs. Logic of procedure, not to mention a “theo-logic” of content, is difficult to perceive.
Even when there is some semblance of sensible order, even when the sequence defined in the Book of Common Worship is followed, worship often seems to follow an agenda. “Prayerful actions” are scattered like items on a list, all to be completed by the end of the hour.
With such a mindset, it is easy for the presider to start behaving like an emcee.
For example, before the Call to Worship we might hear, “Let us join in the call to worship.”
Or, announcing the Prayer of Confession before scriptural introductions, something like “Let us come before God with our confessions.”
Before reading Scripture some readers insert non-scriptural summaries of the text.
“Let us stand and affirm our faith,” might precede the Creed.
Announcing the offering could be done without “Let us worship God with our offering.” Just an appropriate biblical text will do.
The Greeting of Peace is too often an interruption of a far greater magnitude, but makes the point.
Instructions given in the midst of the Eucharist fracture the solemnity of the sacrament.
All of these words, and many others, spoken by a worship leader are essentially rubrics (= “written in red”), instructions that could just as easily be printed in a bulletin, and left unspoken. What would that be like, I wonder, if we did just that?
Well, the Bishop has an answer for us, as he goes on to describe what worship should be:
“Orthodox divine services…are a totally different matter. From the priest’s exclamation at the very beginning of the service we are immersed in an atmosphere of uninterrupted prayer, in which psalms, litanies,...prayers and the celebrating priest’s invocations follow one another in a continuous stream. The entire service is conducted as if in one breath, in one rhythm, like an ever unfolding mystery in which nothing distracts from prayer.”
Not that we’re all going to do a seismic shift from the Reformed to the Orthodox tradition next Sunday. Yet it is possible for us to look at what we do from another perspective.
What if everyone started to worship God the instant they entered the room? Perhaps leaders as well as people in the pews would find more focus on their purpose for being there.
If there were no stops and starts to break up the flow of worship, all would begin to see the interrelatedness of the various parts, a wholeness to the service. We would, over a period of time discover that all that transpires in a given service is worship, praise and thanksgiving to God.
Getting rid of the instructive distractions would allow worshippers to contemplate the mystery of God’s grace that calls the likes of us sinners to come, forgives us, feeds us with Word and Sacrament, and sends is into the world to follow the Risen Lord.
What we learn from the Orthodox Bishop is that we Protestants are Westerners—we tend to think in a linear fashion, with lists and agendas and orders of worship. Yet we can learn to experience fullness in our worship, a unity of form and expression as we praise God.
What are the distractions or interruptions to services in your church? How might you minimize them?
Monday, October 14, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
"Blended" Worship?
Over coffee one afternoon, a new pastor to our area confided to me that the worship service he inherited was, in a word, “chaotic.”
I offered to pay him a Sunday morning visit and, if he wished, give him my critique. Please note that a “critique” is not necessarily negative, but in this case it was difficult to get out of the minus column.
To start with the positive: The young man’s sermon was strong and meaningful. The church organist led the congregation in the singing of one wonderful hymn. Communion by intinction was reverently accomplished. The end.
Otherwise, the pastor was right: It was chaotic.
The “praise” singers arrived late, scattered their guitar cases and coats around the platform, and grabbed mikes to sing and sway. The music they sang was old, and vapid, in the 7-11 category (seven words sung over eleven times), with totally forgettable melodies, the shelf life of which ended before anyone arrived in the parking lot. The “children’s sermon” was spoken over a mike by a person invisible to the congregation except those small people before whom she knelt. During the sermon, the singers left the room. For most of the service the organist did nothing. The order was random, except in its broadest outline. And so forth.
The pastor and I had a chance to debrief some weeks later. It became clear that there was no truce in the Worship War for this congregation. It was the generation gap—the geriatric section wanted the “traditional” style, while the younger people clamored for the “contemporary.”
What the pastor hoped to accomplish was a “blended” worship experience, drawing from the best of both generations. It was, at least for him, an uphill climb.
As I listened to him describe what the two groups wanted, it occurred to me that they were both searching past each other, and not likely either the old folks or the youngsters would get what they wanted.
The gray-haired generation was looking back to the “good old days.” The familiar hymns brought the chills of nostalgia. Some liturgical formality, in vestments and language, gave authority to the proceedings. Quiet and peaceful worship was healing and spiritually soothing.
The younger people were looking forward to more lively worship, less formality, new more entertaining music, and some real challenges that “rock.” They want it to look like it belongs in the 21st century, not the 19th.
What people who advocate for either of these positions do not seem to know is that Christian worship is a living, growing experience.
You cannot recreate the past, because it’s gone.
Neither can you replace what we have now with liturgy that is completely new.
In both instances people fail to realize that what we have is a living experience, ever changing, constantly growing or needing repair. The Protestant Reformation was not a one-time experience. When it comes to Christian worship, the need for reformation is perpetual.
But reforming and renewing worship now does not happen without knowledge of where we’ve been and what the world looks like down the road ahead of us.
So, the only hope for my friend, and many of the rest of us, is to learn about the liturgical heritage our ancestors left us, build on it, and reshape next Sunday’s experience accordingly. There is desperate need these days for liturgical education—not just among pew-sitters, but for musicians, church leaders, and even for the clergy. Chaotic worship happens when nobody’s paying attention, and what we do is perfunctory and thoughtless.
If there is such a thing as “blended worship,” we don’t get there by sticking two things together that have nothing to do with right now. Rather we grow into it, letting the Spirit work to bring to life what is fresh and new.
How does your worship get evaluated and reviewed to see what needs to be better understood by the people, by musicians, by leaders and clergy?
I offered to pay him a Sunday morning visit and, if he wished, give him my critique. Please note that a “critique” is not necessarily negative, but in this case it was difficult to get out of the minus column.
To start with the positive: The young man’s sermon was strong and meaningful. The church organist led the congregation in the singing of one wonderful hymn. Communion by intinction was reverently accomplished. The end.
Otherwise, the pastor was right: It was chaotic.
The “praise” singers arrived late, scattered their guitar cases and coats around the platform, and grabbed mikes to sing and sway. The music they sang was old, and vapid, in the 7-11 category (seven words sung over eleven times), with totally forgettable melodies, the shelf life of which ended before anyone arrived in the parking lot. The “children’s sermon” was spoken over a mike by a person invisible to the congregation except those small people before whom she knelt. During the sermon, the singers left the room. For most of the service the organist did nothing. The order was random, except in its broadest outline. And so forth.
The pastor and I had a chance to debrief some weeks later. It became clear that there was no truce in the Worship War for this congregation. It was the generation gap—the geriatric section wanted the “traditional” style, while the younger people clamored for the “contemporary.”
What the pastor hoped to accomplish was a “blended” worship experience, drawing from the best of both generations. It was, at least for him, an uphill climb.
As I listened to him describe what the two groups wanted, it occurred to me that they were both searching past each other, and not likely either the old folks or the youngsters would get what they wanted.
The gray-haired generation was looking back to the “good old days.” The familiar hymns brought the chills of nostalgia. Some liturgical formality, in vestments and language, gave authority to the proceedings. Quiet and peaceful worship was healing and spiritually soothing.
The younger people were looking forward to more lively worship, less formality, new more entertaining music, and some real challenges that “rock.” They want it to look like it belongs in the 21st century, not the 19th.
What people who advocate for either of these positions do not seem to know is that Christian worship is a living, growing experience.
You cannot recreate the past, because it’s gone.
Neither can you replace what we have now with liturgy that is completely new.
In both instances people fail to realize that what we have is a living experience, ever changing, constantly growing or needing repair. The Protestant Reformation was not a one-time experience. When it comes to Christian worship, the need for reformation is perpetual.
But reforming and renewing worship now does not happen without knowledge of where we’ve been and what the world looks like down the road ahead of us.
So, the only hope for my friend, and many of the rest of us, is to learn about the liturgical heritage our ancestors left us, build on it, and reshape next Sunday’s experience accordingly. There is desperate need these days for liturgical education—not just among pew-sitters, but for musicians, church leaders, and even for the clergy. Chaotic worship happens when nobody’s paying attention, and what we do is perfunctory and thoughtless.
If there is such a thing as “blended worship,” we don’t get there by sticking two things together that have nothing to do with right now. Rather we grow into it, letting the Spirit work to bring to life what is fresh and new.
How does your worship get evaluated and reviewed to see what needs to be better understood by the people, by musicians, by leaders and clergy?
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Shelf Life of Sermons
After the service a couple of Sundays ago, at which I was the featured guest preacher and presider, a kind gentleman came up to me and said to me something like, “That was a good one. You ought to give it again.”
Coincidentally, a few minutes later someone else tugged at my sleeve with a smiling suggestion that the sermon should be printed up and distributed.
In spite of the fact that flattery will get anyone farther than criticism, I balked at both notions because I’ve learned better.
There was a time, back in my young and foolish days, that I did actually try to pass off a used sermon on a different congregation. After all, they hadn’t heard it before, so for all they knew in their pious innocence, it was the latest and greatest.
The problem was, I’d heard it before, and spoken it before. Even though I preach from a written text in semi-outline form that allows leeway for adlibbing, it had all the freshness to me of yesterday’s mashed potatoes served with last week’s steamed broccoli.
Old sermons, even if they are only as old as yesterday, have a very short shelf life. They go stale quickly, losing zest like a Coke with the cap off. That loss of flavor and sharpness for the preacher inevitably leads to an insipid sermon for the people who hear it.
The rule that I learned, a few times the hard way, is, Don’t bother trying to resurrect an old sermon.
The corollary is, Don’t bother to print them up either, especially if you’ve taped it and want to print a transcript.
Printed sermons are read out-of-context—away from the sacred space, the gathered community of faith, and the sounds, sights and smells of Christian worship. Rather they are likely to be scanned in a setting with none of the supporting atmosphere, all of which makes the sermon less sermonic and more distant.
Besides that, if one is to print a delivered sermon, it needs a complete rewriting. A sermon to be read from ink on paper is very different from the conversationally spoken one. The labor invested in editing and re-writing is almost as much as crafting a fresh homily.
Not that sermons printed up are without value. They can be. I like to read sermons—by other people. It’s educational to see how someone else is touched by a passage, how the Spirit works in that person’s mind, soul and spirit, and how the Word speaks in that particular time and place.
Perhaps my sermons could be educational, even challenging to another person. In which case, some may be of sufficient value to reprint. Printed sermons, however, are clearly out-of-date, not current, and not local. All of that must be considered whenever you read sermons in print.
All of this brings me back to the main point: preaching happens in the here and now. Sermons are not to be written for publishing in books or preserved for the ages—they belong to a particular time of worship and the folks then gathered. There is a mighty arrogance to assume that a sermon prepared for this congregation on a particular date will “work” for anyone and everyone, wherever and whenever. If a sermon is aimed in that direction, it’ll fall flat in front of the pulpit.
In this sense, sermons are disposable items. They are good for one use and then should be discarded. To use a sermon more than once is to borrow trouble.
Given the rule (Don’t resurrect an old sermon) and its corollary (Don’t print a transcript of a sermon without editing), there is another rule: Don’t go back to read your old sermons on the same text you’re working on for next Sunday.
Should you go dig out parts of old sermons for the current one, you’ll likely start thinking like you did last time, and not be as open to the Spirit as you should be. What the “Good Word” was a year or three ago probably doesn’t sound quite right today.
Recycling preaching is a short-cut leading to a dead end street.
The preacher’s task is to listen before speaking, to “listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches,” and then, only then, speak promptly and plainly.
Coincidentally, a few minutes later someone else tugged at my sleeve with a smiling suggestion that the sermon should be printed up and distributed.
In spite of the fact that flattery will get anyone farther than criticism, I balked at both notions because I’ve learned better.
There was a time, back in my young and foolish days, that I did actually try to pass off a used sermon on a different congregation. After all, they hadn’t heard it before, so for all they knew in their pious innocence, it was the latest and greatest.
The problem was, I’d heard it before, and spoken it before. Even though I preach from a written text in semi-outline form that allows leeway for adlibbing, it had all the freshness to me of yesterday’s mashed potatoes served with last week’s steamed broccoli.
Old sermons, even if they are only as old as yesterday, have a very short shelf life. They go stale quickly, losing zest like a Coke with the cap off. That loss of flavor and sharpness for the preacher inevitably leads to an insipid sermon for the people who hear it.
The rule that I learned, a few times the hard way, is, Don’t bother trying to resurrect an old sermon.
The corollary is, Don’t bother to print them up either, especially if you’ve taped it and want to print a transcript.
Printed sermons are read out-of-context—away from the sacred space, the gathered community of faith, and the sounds, sights and smells of Christian worship. Rather they are likely to be scanned in a setting with none of the supporting atmosphere, all of which makes the sermon less sermonic and more distant.
Besides that, if one is to print a delivered sermon, it needs a complete rewriting. A sermon to be read from ink on paper is very different from the conversationally spoken one. The labor invested in editing and re-writing is almost as much as crafting a fresh homily.
Not that sermons printed up are without value. They can be. I like to read sermons—by other people. It’s educational to see how someone else is touched by a passage, how the Spirit works in that person’s mind, soul and spirit, and how the Word speaks in that particular time and place.
Perhaps my sermons could be educational, even challenging to another person. In which case, some may be of sufficient value to reprint. Printed sermons, however, are clearly out-of-date, not current, and not local. All of that must be considered whenever you read sermons in print.
All of this brings me back to the main point: preaching happens in the here and now. Sermons are not to be written for publishing in books or preserved for the ages—they belong to a particular time of worship and the folks then gathered. There is a mighty arrogance to assume that a sermon prepared for this congregation on a particular date will “work” for anyone and everyone, wherever and whenever. If a sermon is aimed in that direction, it’ll fall flat in front of the pulpit.
In this sense, sermons are disposable items. They are good for one use and then should be discarded. To use a sermon more than once is to borrow trouble.
Given the rule (Don’t resurrect an old sermon) and its corollary (Don’t print a transcript of a sermon without editing), there is another rule: Don’t go back to read your old sermons on the same text you’re working on for next Sunday.
Should you go dig out parts of old sermons for the current one, you’ll likely start thinking like you did last time, and not be as open to the Spirit as you should be. What the “Good Word” was a year or three ago probably doesn’t sound quite right today.
Recycling preaching is a short-cut leading to a dead end street.
The preacher’s task is to listen before speaking, to “listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches,” and then, only then, speak promptly and plainly.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Liturgical Ecumenism
There’s a very old joke about the young seminarian who was reporting to one of the elders of his home church about courses he was taking. “One of the most interesting,” the seminarian said, “is the course on ‘ecumenics’.” “That’s wonderful,” replied the oldster. “Ministers ought to know how to handle money.”
That joke dates from the days when ecumenism was a new concept in some circles, and there was a learning curve in local churches. Although you’d think we’d know better now, if you look around you’ll discover ecumenical relations among Christians and inter-faith relations between Christians and Jews and Moslems could stand considerable improvement.
On the Christian scene, it seems as though many congregations have climbed into their congregational boxes and folded over the tops. We’re clutching our own traditions, running dangerously into the mire of stagnation. Worship too often is static and stale, without passion or enthusiasm. Then, all that follows from worship grinds to a halt.
I was provoked to think about this quandary by a recent address made by John X, Patriarch of the Orthodox Church of Antioch, sent to me by a friend who is an Antiochian Orthodox priest. It contained this challenge to the Patriarch’s Orthodox constituents, just as applicable to all Christians:
“We should acknowledge that schism today is not only between the Churches, but also within... each of them. While we are called to learn from each other, each of us is searching for Christ in our own way and sings for Him with our own particular words and rituals. We have to love the face of Christ as He is seen by the other. Only then will our experiences complement each other; and we shall discover that the wall of enmity and schism does not grow so high as to reach the heavens.”
This, of course, confronts my Reformed sensibilities. It’s so easy for the likes of me, born and bred Presbyterian, steeped in the American “Book of Common Worship” tradition, to consider what I know to be all there is to know. We take our worship seriously, and build it on learning from our ancestors and education about our current practices. Yet that kind of wisdom and knowledge can become a box with the lid on tight.
Taking the above counsel of the Patriarch personally, it behooves me and others to at least peek outside the box of our own liturgy, and see what’s going on elsewhere.
Here’s a suggestion—that pastors and sessions (governing boards) need to include in their contracts the following requirement: That quarterly (at least four times a year) the pastor will take a weekend off to attend worship in another church (Protestant, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Independent) and spend time with the spiritual leader of that congregation to discuss the experience.
Notice, this is a requirement—not an option.
What’s to be gained by such adventures?
Visiting other Protestant churches might possibly open one to the discovery of common threads of tradition. Lutherans will teach us that non-Reformed Protestants know how to worship as profoundly as we do, maybe more so. Southern Baptists reveal another more informal style reflecting other American customs. Episcopalians show that formality is not to be feared. There is even something to be learned from those in our own denomination.
Roman Catholics have struggled the past fifty years in “reforming” their worship. The actions of Vatican II have prompted many changes in the liturgy to restore the active role of the people. The ascendancy of Pope Benedict XVI, however, has introduced an era of undoing what Vatican II accomplished. Still, Roman Catholics struggle to understand their past and renew their worship.
On the Orthodox side, there is much to be learned. For a thousand years or so, the West has drifted from the East, and vice versa. Nevertheless, many Protestant and Catholic individuals have found their spiritual pilgrimages taking them in the Orthodox direction. Curiously, Presbyterians sometimes find a real attraction to Orthodox liturgy. It’s been suggested that this is because Calvin based his understanding of worshipping God on the early church theologians, who are also cited by the Orthodox liturgists. The full participation of the people and the awareness of transcendence in worship are among the commonalities.
(While we’re on the subject, even non-Christian people have something to contribute to our understanding of our own worship. A visit at the local synagogue, obviously, might also be included. How else is one to understand that the first Christians were Jews just as Jesus was, and our worship from the beginning was shaped by the traditions continuing in Sabbath worship? And Muslim worship can also be informative, even if commonalities are not so obvious. The devout piety and praise of God is clear, and conversation with the imam or other Muslim could reveal insights and understanding.}
Shared worship experiences can only be broadening for the pastor, and through him or her, enriching to the worship of the people.
Do you or your pastor ever visit other churches to learn about different worship experiences?
That joke dates from the days when ecumenism was a new concept in some circles, and there was a learning curve in local churches. Although you’d think we’d know better now, if you look around you’ll discover ecumenical relations among Christians and inter-faith relations between Christians and Jews and Moslems could stand considerable improvement.
On the Christian scene, it seems as though many congregations have climbed into their congregational boxes and folded over the tops. We’re clutching our own traditions, running dangerously into the mire of stagnation. Worship too often is static and stale, without passion or enthusiasm. Then, all that follows from worship grinds to a halt.
I was provoked to think about this quandary by a recent address made by John X, Patriarch of the Orthodox Church of Antioch, sent to me by a friend who is an Antiochian Orthodox priest. It contained this challenge to the Patriarch’s Orthodox constituents, just as applicable to all Christians:
“We should acknowledge that schism today is not only between the Churches, but also within... each of them. While we are called to learn from each other, each of us is searching for Christ in our own way and sings for Him with our own particular words and rituals. We have to love the face of Christ as He is seen by the other. Only then will our experiences complement each other; and we shall discover that the wall of enmity and schism does not grow so high as to reach the heavens.”
This, of course, confronts my Reformed sensibilities. It’s so easy for the likes of me, born and bred Presbyterian, steeped in the American “Book of Common Worship” tradition, to consider what I know to be all there is to know. We take our worship seriously, and build it on learning from our ancestors and education about our current practices. Yet that kind of wisdom and knowledge can become a box with the lid on tight.
Taking the above counsel of the Patriarch personally, it behooves me and others to at least peek outside the box of our own liturgy, and see what’s going on elsewhere.
Here’s a suggestion—that pastors and sessions (governing boards) need to include in their contracts the following requirement: That quarterly (at least four times a year) the pastor will take a weekend off to attend worship in another church (Protestant, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Independent) and spend time with the spiritual leader of that congregation to discuss the experience.
Notice, this is a requirement—not an option.
What’s to be gained by such adventures?
Visiting other Protestant churches might possibly open one to the discovery of common threads of tradition. Lutherans will teach us that non-Reformed Protestants know how to worship as profoundly as we do, maybe more so. Southern Baptists reveal another more informal style reflecting other American customs. Episcopalians show that formality is not to be feared. There is even something to be learned from those in our own denomination.
Roman Catholics have struggled the past fifty years in “reforming” their worship. The actions of Vatican II have prompted many changes in the liturgy to restore the active role of the people. The ascendancy of Pope Benedict XVI, however, has introduced an era of undoing what Vatican II accomplished. Still, Roman Catholics struggle to understand their past and renew their worship.
On the Orthodox side, there is much to be learned. For a thousand years or so, the West has drifted from the East, and vice versa. Nevertheless, many Protestant and Catholic individuals have found their spiritual pilgrimages taking them in the Orthodox direction. Curiously, Presbyterians sometimes find a real attraction to Orthodox liturgy. It’s been suggested that this is because Calvin based his understanding of worshipping God on the early church theologians, who are also cited by the Orthodox liturgists. The full participation of the people and the awareness of transcendence in worship are among the commonalities.
(While we’re on the subject, even non-Christian people have something to contribute to our understanding of our own worship. A visit at the local synagogue, obviously, might also be included. How else is one to understand that the first Christians were Jews just as Jesus was, and our worship from the beginning was shaped by the traditions continuing in Sabbath worship? And Muslim worship can also be informative, even if commonalities are not so obvious. The devout piety and praise of God is clear, and conversation with the imam or other Muslim could reveal insights and understanding.}
Shared worship experiences can only be broadening for the pastor, and through him or her, enriching to the worship of the people.
Do you or your pastor ever visit other churches to learn about different worship experiences?
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Relevant Worship?
Recently a friend sent me an article from the Washington Post titled, “Seminary graduates not always ministering from the pulpit”. Here’s the gist of the article:
About 41 percent of masters of divinity graduates expect to pursue full-time church ministry, down from 52 percent in 2001 and from 90-something percent a few decades ago, according to the Association of Theological Schools, the country’s largest such group.
Americans, particularly young ones, are becoming less religiously affiliated, and many see churches as too focused on internal politics and dogma and not enough on bettering the outside world. Institutional religion doesn’t have the stature it once did, and pastor jobs are fewer and less stable.
The skepticism about religious institutions has led to a broadened concept of what it means to minister.*
Comments quoted from fledgling ministers revealed dissatisfaction with the gap between words and actions in the institutional church. One young man “thought that church institutions were hypocritical, talking about Jesus but not living like Him. They focused too much on personal salvation and not enough on caring for others, he thought, historically not fighting hard enough against segregation and slavery.”
This is a classic good-news-bad-news situation.
The good news is that young people are getting an education that builds a theological foundation for their “ministry” in a so-called “secular” calling. One woman, for example, would use her seminary training to support her work as a physician.
The bad news is that the institutional church is being abandoned by those it needs to have the most. If we talk about Jesus but don’t live like Jesus calls us to live in this world, then there is a failure in the way we worship. So the bright young people with fresh M.Div. diplomas are those we need in our churches to shape and lead worship that connects what we say we believe with what we do. Worship should prepare all of us for the ministries to which God calls us as teachers, filmmakers, engineers, doctors, contractors, sales people—whatever we do, wherever we are sent to follow our risen Lord.
In other words, Christian worship should be relevant.
The survey noted above suggests it’s time to check Lord’s Day praise and prayer on the “relevancy meter.” Just how well does worship prepare us to go out and be and do what God expects of us?
The problem is that in the culture of our churches there is a huge disconnect between what we label as “secular” issues and those which are “moral” or “spiritual” issues. For example, the recent (and continuing) debate about universal, affordable medical care is branded as political, and off limits for religious discussion. You probably don’t hear much about it from the pulpit. Yet you can quote chapter and verse about the ethical, moral, spiritual requirement for Christians to take care of the sick and the poor.
Nevertheless, it is sometimes difficult for us to be relevant regarding topics up for public and political debate. I discovered that when I retired, it became much easier for me to talk about these things. I had done so when a pastor, but in retrospect I realize I had sanded down the sharp edges. Now I was free to be more sharply accurate.
For example, I was the guest preacher filling in for a friend and the text was about Jesus healing the sick, and I connected that with medical care debate as a moral issue. After the service, as I was leaving, two members confronted me about the sermon. “I wish our pastor would preach like that,” said one, to which the other added, “We need to hear about those issues more often.” After saying appropriate thanks, I said, “Your pastor preaches relevant sermons. The difference is that you pay his salary and you don’t pay mine.”
Like it or not, there is a certain kind of intimidation that mutes the prophetic voice at least a trifle. Pew-sitters need to know this so they will encourage the preacher to be relevant, and make that faith-action, church-world connection sharply and clearly.
The same thing is necessary in the prayers we articulate in our gathered worship.
A good friend of mine, a neighbor rabbi, gave me this useful definition: “A prayer is a down payment on faithful action.” What we say in prayer is a commitment to God and ourselves that we will follow through.
Sometimes I’ve noticed that prayers in church are spoken as though the prayer itself is all that is necessary. Prayers for the sick members who are not present seem in and of themselves to suffice. I suppose it’s a “let God do it” mentality—if I pray for someone who’s sick, God will fix them, and I’ve done my good deed.
Our prayers are empty echoes without the means to act on them. What and who we pray for in our intercessions, and even our personal needs, must have opportunities provided to be carried out, to be made real. So our prayers are linked to mission efforts, educational programs, visitation plans, etc., whatever we need to act on what we pray for.
Worship in general is for “the equipping of the saints.” The hour or so we spend together to hear and taste God’s Word is supposed to prepare us to “Go out into the world in peace; have courage; hold on to what is good; return no one evil for evil; strengthen the fainthearted; support the weak, and help the suffering; honor all people; love and serve the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.”
When that’s accomplished, worship is indeed relevant.
*Seminary graduates not always ministering from the pulpit, by Michelle Boorstein, The Washington Post, May 17, 2013
About 41 percent of masters of divinity graduates expect to pursue full-time church ministry, down from 52 percent in 2001 and from 90-something percent a few decades ago, according to the Association of Theological Schools, the country’s largest such group.
Americans, particularly young ones, are becoming less religiously affiliated, and many see churches as too focused on internal politics and dogma and not enough on bettering the outside world. Institutional religion doesn’t have the stature it once did, and pastor jobs are fewer and less stable.
The skepticism about religious institutions has led to a broadened concept of what it means to minister.*
Comments quoted from fledgling ministers revealed dissatisfaction with the gap between words and actions in the institutional church. One young man “thought that church institutions were hypocritical, talking about Jesus but not living like Him. They focused too much on personal salvation and not enough on caring for others, he thought, historically not fighting hard enough against segregation and slavery.”
This is a classic good-news-bad-news situation.
The good news is that young people are getting an education that builds a theological foundation for their “ministry” in a so-called “secular” calling. One woman, for example, would use her seminary training to support her work as a physician.
The bad news is that the institutional church is being abandoned by those it needs to have the most. If we talk about Jesus but don’t live like Jesus calls us to live in this world, then there is a failure in the way we worship. So the bright young people with fresh M.Div. diplomas are those we need in our churches to shape and lead worship that connects what we say we believe with what we do. Worship should prepare all of us for the ministries to which God calls us as teachers, filmmakers, engineers, doctors, contractors, sales people—whatever we do, wherever we are sent to follow our risen Lord.
In other words, Christian worship should be relevant.
The survey noted above suggests it’s time to check Lord’s Day praise and prayer on the “relevancy meter.” Just how well does worship prepare us to go out and be and do what God expects of us?
The problem is that in the culture of our churches there is a huge disconnect between what we label as “secular” issues and those which are “moral” or “spiritual” issues. For example, the recent (and continuing) debate about universal, affordable medical care is branded as political, and off limits for religious discussion. You probably don’t hear much about it from the pulpit. Yet you can quote chapter and verse about the ethical, moral, spiritual requirement for Christians to take care of the sick and the poor.
Nevertheless, it is sometimes difficult for us to be relevant regarding topics up for public and political debate. I discovered that when I retired, it became much easier for me to talk about these things. I had done so when a pastor, but in retrospect I realize I had sanded down the sharp edges. Now I was free to be more sharply accurate.
For example, I was the guest preacher filling in for a friend and the text was about Jesus healing the sick, and I connected that with medical care debate as a moral issue. After the service, as I was leaving, two members confronted me about the sermon. “I wish our pastor would preach like that,” said one, to which the other added, “We need to hear about those issues more often.” After saying appropriate thanks, I said, “Your pastor preaches relevant sermons. The difference is that you pay his salary and you don’t pay mine.”
Like it or not, there is a certain kind of intimidation that mutes the prophetic voice at least a trifle. Pew-sitters need to know this so they will encourage the preacher to be relevant, and make that faith-action, church-world connection sharply and clearly.
The same thing is necessary in the prayers we articulate in our gathered worship.
A good friend of mine, a neighbor rabbi, gave me this useful definition: “A prayer is a down payment on faithful action.” What we say in prayer is a commitment to God and ourselves that we will follow through.
Sometimes I’ve noticed that prayers in church are spoken as though the prayer itself is all that is necessary. Prayers for the sick members who are not present seem in and of themselves to suffice. I suppose it’s a “let God do it” mentality—if I pray for someone who’s sick, God will fix them, and I’ve done my good deed.
Our prayers are empty echoes without the means to act on them. What and who we pray for in our intercessions, and even our personal needs, must have opportunities provided to be carried out, to be made real. So our prayers are linked to mission efforts, educational programs, visitation plans, etc., whatever we need to act on what we pray for.
Worship in general is for “the equipping of the saints.” The hour or so we spend together to hear and taste God’s Word is supposed to prepare us to “Go out into the world in peace; have courage; hold on to what is good; return no one evil for evil; strengthen the fainthearted; support the weak, and help the suffering; honor all people; love and serve the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.”
When that’s accomplished, worship is indeed relevant.
*Seminary graduates not always ministering from the pulpit, by Michelle Boorstein, The Washington Post, May 17, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Bulletin Art
Why is it that so many church bulletin covers look like real estate ads?
In this era of reclusive and fading congregations, promoting a congregation’s worship life with such a major emphasis on physical structure may be some of the problem.
In the nineteen-fifties and early sixties many people referred to the overall church structure as a “plant”. New businesses were popping up and older ones were expanding, and churches followed their example. Christian education classrooms were generously added on to worship spaces, while new church buildings sprawled out to provide ample room for all. Some suggested that the churches suffered from an “edifice complex.”
Of course, the flaw in logic of a church building on the bulletin cover is that the bulletin is given to people who are already there, and can see the building, live and in color, inside as well as out. The “art,” no matter how lovely, was aimed at the wrong target.
To say the least, featuring the façade of place of worship on cover of worship order is beside the point. To say more, it’s in the way, distracting, and mildly heretical.
What is on the cover of the bulletin should be minimally a clue to what’s inside. It should be a preview of the major theme of the service, the time or season of the Christian year, the scriptural story in the text for the day, giving the worshippers a sneak peek of what’s in store for them spiriturally.
So, thinking of churches of various sizes, what does one put on the cover of our Sunday worship folder?
The easy answer is to chase down clip art that works for that Sunday, that congregation, and reasonably falls in the category of “art.” “Clip art” is the first logical solution to seek out. There are many excellent opportunities to retrieve religious symbols and art, in color as well as black-and-white, that will serve as a suitably reverent introduction to worship. Even smaller churches have the technical equipment and people with the knowhow to make clip art a wonderful aid to Sunday morning prayer and praise.
The graphic or photo should evidence some thought and effort and have a message that can be captured in the blink of an eye. A good bulletin cover will offer a three-second sermon, capturing a theological concept graphically, luring the viewer into seeking the presence of God.
Poetry and prayers sometimes work on the cover, but they have to be powerful and brief. Not only should they serve as introductions to the worship service, but must function well as take-homes, a snippet of verse or petitionary prayer that is a reminder of the message in the days to follow. Such poetry and prayers are art-forms in their own right, to be sought diligently.
Another approach to getting bulletin art is to recruit artists in your congregation. You don’t have any, you say? Sorry, but I doubt that. My bet is that, even if your faithful group of Jesus’ disciples is small, you have someone or some several people who create artistic works.
Obviously, you want to think about someone who creates graphic art: an architect, engineer or builder who does drawings; a school teacher (they often have artistic skills, or know someone who does); a college student artist; a photographer (professional or amateur); and surely there are others.
And how about the women (or men) who sew and embroider, do needlepoint or stitchery. They work with designs and colors and can work wonders when asked politely.
Moving further along, it’s a great idea to invite the whole congregation to do drawings, black and white or in living color, of Christian symbols that express their faith. (Keep the size about 4”x5” vertical to fit the bulletin space, unless you use larger paper than 8 ½ by 11 folded.) This might require a series of workshops or classes about Christian symbolism to stimulate their creative juices.
Don’t forget to include asking the children. You may get some simplistic looking art work, but then, some grown-ups have become famous with nothing more. Innocence showing through is not bad.
The cover of the worship bulletin is more important than some folks admit. It can reek of boredom, or it can instead provoke interest, entice worshippers to prayer and praise, and educate Christ’s disciples.
What’s on your bulletin cover?
In this era of reclusive and fading congregations, promoting a congregation’s worship life with such a major emphasis on physical structure may be some of the problem.
In the nineteen-fifties and early sixties many people referred to the overall church structure as a “plant”. New businesses were popping up and older ones were expanding, and churches followed their example. Christian education classrooms were generously added on to worship spaces, while new church buildings sprawled out to provide ample room for all. Some suggested that the churches suffered from an “edifice complex.”
Of course, the flaw in logic of a church building on the bulletin cover is that the bulletin is given to people who are already there, and can see the building, live and in color, inside as well as out. The “art,” no matter how lovely, was aimed at the wrong target.
To say the least, featuring the façade of place of worship on cover of worship order is beside the point. To say more, it’s in the way, distracting, and mildly heretical.
What is on the cover of the bulletin should be minimally a clue to what’s inside. It should be a preview of the major theme of the service, the time or season of the Christian year, the scriptural story in the text for the day, giving the worshippers a sneak peek of what’s in store for them spiriturally.
So, thinking of churches of various sizes, what does one put on the cover of our Sunday worship folder?
The easy answer is to chase down clip art that works for that Sunday, that congregation, and reasonably falls in the category of “art.” “Clip art” is the first logical solution to seek out. There are many excellent opportunities to retrieve religious symbols and art, in color as well as black-and-white, that will serve as a suitably reverent introduction to worship. Even smaller churches have the technical equipment and people with the knowhow to make clip art a wonderful aid to Sunday morning prayer and praise.
The graphic or photo should evidence some thought and effort and have a message that can be captured in the blink of an eye. A good bulletin cover will offer a three-second sermon, capturing a theological concept graphically, luring the viewer into seeking the presence of God.
Poetry and prayers sometimes work on the cover, but they have to be powerful and brief. Not only should they serve as introductions to the worship service, but must function well as take-homes, a snippet of verse or petitionary prayer that is a reminder of the message in the days to follow. Such poetry and prayers are art-forms in their own right, to be sought diligently.
Another approach to getting bulletin art is to recruit artists in your congregation. You don’t have any, you say? Sorry, but I doubt that. My bet is that, even if your faithful group of Jesus’ disciples is small, you have someone or some several people who create artistic works.
Obviously, you want to think about someone who creates graphic art: an architect, engineer or builder who does drawings; a school teacher (they often have artistic skills, or know someone who does); a college student artist; a photographer (professional or amateur); and surely there are others.
And how about the women (or men) who sew and embroider, do needlepoint or stitchery. They work with designs and colors and can work wonders when asked politely.
Moving further along, it’s a great idea to invite the whole congregation to do drawings, black and white or in living color, of Christian symbols that express their faith. (Keep the size about 4”x5” vertical to fit the bulletin space, unless you use larger paper than 8 ½ by 11 folded.) This might require a series of workshops or classes about Christian symbolism to stimulate their creative juices.
Don’t forget to include asking the children. You may get some simplistic looking art work, but then, some grown-ups have become famous with nothing more. Innocence showing through is not bad.
The cover of the worship bulletin is more important than some folks admit. It can reek of boredom, or it can instead provoke interest, entice worshippers to prayer and praise, and educate Christ’s disciples.
What’s on your bulletin cover?
Sunday, May 12, 2013
That's (Not) Entertainment
Today was “Youth Sunday.”
Well, actually, by the Hallmark Holy Day Calendar, it was “Mother’s Day,” but the church we attended approached it from a different angle.
Young people led the service of worship from beginning to end—all spoken parts and musical contributions, including some individual instrumental pieces, chanting, and singing of songs on behalf of the congregation—everything led by teenagers of the church’s youth group.
As I told the pastors after the service, the children set the bar high, and the pastors had better get to work to measure up for next Sunday.
For us older folks, this “Youth Sunday” offered a service of hope. To be led by children in praise of God is both humbling and inspiring. The future of the church is in good hands, and the promises of God were visible in the faces and voices of these children.
So, in a real way, appreciation for mothers was strong in this service, and for fathers, too. The parents of these youngsters had a right to indulge in the sin of pride. It was a strong service of worship, out of a strong youth program, supported by many moms and dads.
One of the most powerful parts of the service was an anthem sung by the Youth Choir. Eleven young people, without music sheets in front of them, sang a song of personal commitment to God called “What the Lord Has Done in Me.” Face to face with the congregation, they witnessed to the new life we all have in Jesus Christ.
This was, for me, worship at its very best. The young people’s song became my song. They enabled and enriched my worship. Somehow, through this piece, I was connected to God, touched by the Living Lord, and moved by the Spirit. I think it was true for many, if not all the others as well.
But then it happened. When the song was ended, there was silence…for a moment…and then applause. The magical mystery of worship was broken. Clapping hands shifted everything. What the youngsters had done ceased to be worship because it was transformed into entertainment.
Søren Kierkegaard exposed this problem generations ago. As he pointed out, we often see worship as theater, where the congregation is the audience, the clergy and choir are the performers, and God is the prompter. That’s all wrong, however, because it’s only entertainment. Shift one space over and you’ll find that in worship God is the Audience, the clergy and choir are the prompters, and the congregation are the performers.
What happened at the end of the young people’s anthem was the shift backward from worship to entertainment. We applaud for things done for our amusement. It’s possible to applaud in celebration of God’s grace, to be sure, but what happened here was that worshippers gave the kids a hand for doing something they liked.
Several things resulted from the applause. First of all, we stopped worshipping God. We seemed to be more interested in congratulating the youngsters for a fine job than praising God for our redemption in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And the applause took us out of range of thinking about what God has done and is doing in us. A moment or two of meditation would have been much better spent.
Furthermore, the worshipful presentation of the anthem by the young people was itself discounted. Their own act of worship in singing was trivialized into a performance, rather than accepted as an offering to God.
Also, the young people themselves were belittled by the applause, as though they needed it to be recognized. Rarely does the adult choir draw applause and few sermons leave people clapping—because that’s not why they are offered. They are acts of worship for God, not entertainment for people. Young people deserve to be accepted as real members, able to make real contributions.
I’m sure it was far from anyone’s thought to devalue the effort of the young people. Maybe the applause was a genuine reaction of appreciation and a kind of “Amen” by gesture, a signing on to what was sung and said. But the effect of applause is usually just the opposite, because that’s the way it’s used most of the time in the rest of our lives.
So, there needs to be some congregational education. It would be helpful to post a line in the bulletin from time to time to the effect that applause should be withheld. Let’s be sure we do not drift away from worship into something less worthy of our God.
Do folks clap for children’s choir anthems in your church?
Well, actually, by the Hallmark Holy Day Calendar, it was “Mother’s Day,” but the church we attended approached it from a different angle.
Young people led the service of worship from beginning to end—all spoken parts and musical contributions, including some individual instrumental pieces, chanting, and singing of songs on behalf of the congregation—everything led by teenagers of the church’s youth group.
As I told the pastors after the service, the children set the bar high, and the pastors had better get to work to measure up for next Sunday.
For us older folks, this “Youth Sunday” offered a service of hope. To be led by children in praise of God is both humbling and inspiring. The future of the church is in good hands, and the promises of God were visible in the faces and voices of these children.
So, in a real way, appreciation for mothers was strong in this service, and for fathers, too. The parents of these youngsters had a right to indulge in the sin of pride. It was a strong service of worship, out of a strong youth program, supported by many moms and dads.
One of the most powerful parts of the service was an anthem sung by the Youth Choir. Eleven young people, without music sheets in front of them, sang a song of personal commitment to God called “What the Lord Has Done in Me.” Face to face with the congregation, they witnessed to the new life we all have in Jesus Christ.
This was, for me, worship at its very best. The young people’s song became my song. They enabled and enriched my worship. Somehow, through this piece, I was connected to God, touched by the Living Lord, and moved by the Spirit. I think it was true for many, if not all the others as well.
But then it happened. When the song was ended, there was silence…for a moment…and then applause. The magical mystery of worship was broken. Clapping hands shifted everything. What the youngsters had done ceased to be worship because it was transformed into entertainment.
Søren Kierkegaard exposed this problem generations ago. As he pointed out, we often see worship as theater, where the congregation is the audience, the clergy and choir are the performers, and God is the prompter. That’s all wrong, however, because it’s only entertainment. Shift one space over and you’ll find that in worship God is the Audience, the clergy and choir are the prompters, and the congregation are the performers.
What happened at the end of the young people’s anthem was the shift backward from worship to entertainment. We applaud for things done for our amusement. It’s possible to applaud in celebration of God’s grace, to be sure, but what happened here was that worshippers gave the kids a hand for doing something they liked.
Several things resulted from the applause. First of all, we stopped worshipping God. We seemed to be more interested in congratulating the youngsters for a fine job than praising God for our redemption in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And the applause took us out of range of thinking about what God has done and is doing in us. A moment or two of meditation would have been much better spent.
Furthermore, the worshipful presentation of the anthem by the young people was itself discounted. Their own act of worship in singing was trivialized into a performance, rather than accepted as an offering to God.
Also, the young people themselves were belittled by the applause, as though they needed it to be recognized. Rarely does the adult choir draw applause and few sermons leave people clapping—because that’s not why they are offered. They are acts of worship for God, not entertainment for people. Young people deserve to be accepted as real members, able to make real contributions.
I’m sure it was far from anyone’s thought to devalue the effort of the young people. Maybe the applause was a genuine reaction of appreciation and a kind of “Amen” by gesture, a signing on to what was sung and said. But the effect of applause is usually just the opposite, because that’s the way it’s used most of the time in the rest of our lives.
So, there needs to be some congregational education. It would be helpful to post a line in the bulletin from time to time to the effect that applause should be withheld. Let’s be sure we do not drift away from worship into something less worthy of our God.
Do folks clap for children’s choir anthems in your church?
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