In Requiem

REQUIEM aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.

It is with a heavy heart that I have to tell you that my father, Rev. Don Stake, passed away Sunday, February 21, 2016. I was fortunate that he was able to make one last trip down here in October, where we discussed his plans for a book on liturgy he was working on based on this blog. Please know that all of you who read and commented on the blog meant a lot to him, and he enjoyed so much the interaction and discussion, as well as the process of putting his thoughts together and sharing. Thank you all. I am admin on the blog, and will leave it up indefinitely, as I like to be able to link to some of the posts and share when needed. I hope you will find it useful as well.
Blessings,
Jennifer Stake White

Schenectady, NY - Rev. Donald W. Stake 80, of Schenectady, passed away at Ellis Hospital with his loving family at his side on Sunday, February 21, 2016.

Don was born in St. Louis, MO, son of the late Bruce and Dorothy Cope Stake. He graduated from Princeton University in 1957 and Princeton Theological Seminary in 1960. Don was initially Assistant Pastor at Union Presbyterian Church in Schenectady from 1960 to 1966. He then became Sr. Pastor in 1966 from which he retired in 2001. Soon after retirement he became Public Relations Specialist for Community Hospice until 2014.

Don was Stated Clerk of the Presbytery of Albany from 1975-1987, and an editorial Cartoonist for the Spotlight Newspapers from 1987 to 2008. Throughout his career he was a contributor to multiple church publications including the Book of Common Worship. He was active in the Ecumenical and Interfaith community where he served on many committees.

Survived by his wife of 28 years, Mary Jane Stake, his daughters; Jennifer (Stan) White of Cleveland, TN and Amy Jessup of Glenville, NY; Step-children Mary Lee (Chuck) Plate of NJ, Ian Douglas (Ilene) McKechnie of NJ, David (Terri) McKechnie of NJ, thirteen grandchildren; a nephew James (Terri) Carr of FL and a niece Julie(David) Shorrosh of OK.

Don loved his family, his two cats (Billy and Ashlee) as well as everything Disney, and also enjoyed many quality and meaningful friendships throughout the years.

Calling hours will be Thursday evening from 4 PM to 7 PM at the Jones Funeral Home, 1503 Union St., (at McClellan St.), Schenectady. A Memorial service will be held Saturday April 23, 2016 at 11 AM at Delmar Presbyterian Church, 585 Delaware Ave., Delmar NY.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations in Don's memory may be made to Community Hospice, 295 Valley View Blvd., Rensselaer, NY 12144.

To leave a special message for Don's family please visit www.jonesfh.net

Full-Voice Worship

My wife and I made this year’s annual Holy Week pilgrimage at the Trinity Episcopal Church in Boston. Since I retired from parish ministry, this journey became a real possibility; internally, for me, it has become a necessity. Having been to Trinity a number of times over the years, I’ve come to expect excellent liturgy, uplifting music and solid preaching.

Trinity Church stands on Copley Square, a magnificent structure designed by H. H. Richardson, erected between 1872 and 1877. Its Romanesque style with rough hewn stone and huge, heavy tower set the standard for many public buildings to follow. The interior is warm and friendly in spite of being expansive and open. Elegant stained glass windows and bright décor offer a feast for the eye. The church and parish house were built under the direction of Phillips Brooks, a highly admired preacher of the day (who was also the author of “O Little Town of Bethlehem”).

Yet it’s not the architecture that I’m writing about now, nor is the music or preaching, nor even the design and presentation of the liturgy. The subject at hand is how the congregation takes a major part in the expression of praise and prayer.

What impresses me every time at Trinity Church is how firmly vocal the people are in their parts of the liturgy. When the lines for everyone to speak come up, their sound fills the room.

Unfortunately, I’ve gotten used to mumbled responses and whispered “Amens.” I don’t believe that Presbyterians were always so passive in reading the texts in boldface type. There was a time when we were more assertive and affirmative in speaking up and out in worshipful zeal. In the old days, the people in the pews used to say and sing their parts in full voice to be heard across the room.

One benefit of full-voice responses is that worshippers hear one another and become aware of being in an assemblage, a gathering of believers standing in the presence of the Almighty. Louder speaking by pew-sitters prevents people from drifting off into individual worship and forgetting that we are called by God to be a people, a body together serving one Lord.

The other aspect of congregational participation that I witnessed at Trinity Church is how much the people have to say in the service. Psalms were responsive (and chanted), antiphons were incorporated in some psalms or canticles, and in some instances entire psalms and canticles were sung by all. Prayers were offered in unison or responsively, and the Apostles Creed was said in response to questions of belief. Hymns were sung, of course, but also brief musical responses from the people were inserted in prayers. And every “Amen!” was clearly affirmative. All was spoken enthusiastically.

Too often we Presbyterians are inclined to minimize the quantity of what the people speak out, maybe the Lord’s Prayer, perhaps a Call to Worship set of responses, and, if there is one at all, a Prayer of Confession or Creedal Affirmation. We usually don’t need “amens” except from the leader.

The minimalization of the people’s parts tends to lull the good folks into a passive state, and before anyone is aware of what’s happening, worship demanding work becomes mere entertainment which requires little more than showing up and sitting back to watch and listen.

Increasing congregational participation is a challenge, to say the least. So how do we meet the challenge to encourage full-voice worship in our congregations? Start with the choir. They sing out, and should be able to speak up when the occasion arises. Let them lead the congregation, as they should be doing in every hymn.

Next take some time with session members and deacons and church school teachers. Work with them to teach them active worship. Remind them that “liturgy” means “the work of the people,” so they should put some energy into it. They are leaders of the church, and in worship they also have the responsibility to lead.

Do the folks where you worship speak and sing in full voice? If not, what can you do to improve the situation?

Harold Mayo Daniels April 10, 1927 - February 5, 2015

When I received word last week that Harold Daniels “passed from this life to the next on February 5,” I felt that jolt of the loss of a good friend and colleague. I was privileged to work with him on a variety of projects, large and small, over a stretch of 35-plus years. Even though I know at the start what I have to say here will be inadequate, I am moved to pay Harold a tribute, remembering and celebrating the abundant gifts God sent us through him.

Harold was ordained in the Church of the Nazarene in which he briefly served parishes. In 1958 he was received into the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., and went on to be a pastor of churches in Montana and New Mexico. After completing advanced pastoral studies, in 1978 he became the director of the Joint Office of Worship of the northern (UPCUSA) and southern (PCUS) branches of the Presbyterian Church, and following the reunion in 1983, he continued to staff the Office of Worship.

In his work at the denominational level, however, Harold never lost his pastoral sense. He knew that the work he was doing would be serving the folks back home. He was not detached from the basis of the church. On the contrary, Harold seemed to be in touch with people everywhere in congregations large and small, constantly taking the pulse of worship. He knew what was needed, and that knowledge spurred him on in his work.

Harold was also a pastor to those he worked with. He was an outstanding listener. Those who worked on any project for which he had editorial or administrative responsibility received pastoral care: support, encouragement, and any assistance he could give. He always had time to hear about what was going on in other people’s lives that they needed to share. His sense of humor was usually there to pierce the gloom and brighten the scene.

This pastoral sense made it possible for Harold to be a good critic. I never had the sense that he was lording his writing skills over me when he picked at a prayer I wrote, although he could have and I’d never have argued with him. He was an excellent writer, often published.

Harold was a scholar, a persistent student who wanted to learn more. Harold often excitedly gushed about the most recent insight that had burst onto his horizon via some freshly published text. To Harold, there was never too much knowledge. Partly, I think, that was also because of his pastoral sense.

Harold had a real passion for worship, not just academically, but because worship is at the heart of the Christian life. Worship was in Harold’s heart. He was a devout person, not in any superficial pietistic sense, but in that his daily activities were always worshipful. Like a good pastor, he could verbalize a prayer in a group at any moment, and it would be as natural as breathing, because it was always there in his heart.

Harold was a true ecumenical spirit. When we were gathering information to create a Daily Prayer book, Harold suggested we gather up various resources from other traditions. They were not for us just to look at, but to use and see what we could learn. Harold’s ecumenical relationships went far beyond this, reaching globally to connect his work and all of us with the Church Catholic.

Harold also did a couple of tours of duty as a presbytery stated clerk. From that experience he brought sharp organizational skills and awareness of the Presbyterian way of getting things done. It’s not always easy to accomplish immense tasks in a large, complex organization. Harold knew how to do it, and do it all with grace.

Among Harold’s many accomplishments was his work as the project director and editor of the Book of Common Worship (BCW) (1993). This book has been called “the finest printed resource currently available in the English language.” Prior to its publication, however, he also had to shepherd a flock of “Supplemental Liturgical Resources,” which were first editions of the components of the BCW. To this lengthy process he brought wisdom and knowledge, enthusiasm and vision.

Harold left us with much to give thanks for. Yet we do acknowledge a great loss, and wish he were around to prompt us to richer worship. At the same time, I’m sure Harold is still with us every time we gather at the Lord’s Table, in every psalm and song we sing, in every prayer and praise we lift up to heaven.

May God’s Peace be with Harold’s family and all who love him.

Deflated Worship

With all the controversy about deflated footballs, I encountered another “deflation” issue in a worship service recently. Held during a meeting, it was a complete service, Word and Sacrament (Lord’s Supper).

The setting in a local church was rather traditional, Communion Table front and center floor level, pulpit and lectern up a few steps on the platform, with stained glass windows for the backdrop. Oh, yes, there was one other item, off to the side on the left: an open projection screen had been set up.

Not being a big fan of audio-visuals in worship, I found the presence of the screen a nuisance, and its use an annoyance. By the time we reached the last hymn, I realized what the problem really was.

Projecting the words of the hymns on the screen was passable, for it made juggling hymnals unnecessary. And the responses for the Communion liturgy shown on the screen eliminated the need for a printed bulletin. (Although hymnals were in the pews and more paper was generated for the meeting than would be consumed by a few bulletins.)

What went wrong, however, was that when we looked over to the left to read, the whole experience of feasting at the Lord’s Table was reduced from three-dimensional, life-size, living color, real time experience, to a mere two-dimensional, 6-by-8-foot rectangle, shades-of-gray, image appearing before (and sometimes after) we needed to read it. The result was a persistent distraction, and because our visual attention was snatched away from the real action, the Eucharistic event at the table was deflated. It was flattened out in what we saw, and sagging in enthusiasm.

Sharing in the Communion meal requires focus, on the part of those who receive as well as of those who serve. We need not only to be attentive to what is happening at the Table, but that we are in the midst of a community sharing an intimate experience.

Having the screen off to the side requiring our attention was a rude intrusion to the service. It took our attention away from the main event, much like at a family gathering around the dining table when some kinfolk are gazing at the tiny screens of their cell phones. It tends to take the air out of interpersonal relationships.

The Eucharist is all about interpersonal, intimate relationships, between the worshippers and the Triune God, and among the worshippers themselves. Maybe we could set aside the technical gimmicks and pay attention to the gifts of God who has claimed us to be the people of God.

It has been said that deflating a football makes it easier to handle and improves the game. Puncturing a worship service this way, however, can make it go flat altogether.

The Presider

One of the advantages of being retired from parish ministry is that I get the opportunity to worship in a variety of churches.  As a pastor leading worship each Sunday, I was deprived of “the view from the pew.” Now I enjoy that perspective more often than not as I visit several churches as a pew-sitter.

One of the curiosities revealed several times in different places was that, all of a sudden, the chancel where the worship leaders are supposed to be, became unpopulated.  All the furniture was there: Table, Pulpit, Lectern and Font, and three fancy chairs…but no pastor.  It was an empty platform as far as people went.  Actually, sometimes they all went.  The Lay Reader stepped into the congregation’s pews after fulfilling her responsibilities, and the pastor went off the platform to take a seat to the side.  And the choir was non-existent or in the back of the room.

It looked like the ship was adrift because there was no one at the rudder. As it so happens, this metaphor is built into church architecture.  The “nave” of the church, where the pews, and the people in them, are, gets its name from the Latin from which we also get the English word, “navy.”  And the people on the platform are “steering the ship on a scriptural course” through the waters of worship. One of the most common illustrations of the church is a ship in full sail.

A more accurate (and less colorful) image is that of a gathering of people to conduct some business. The pastor, as minister of Word and Sacrament, is the presider, the one who leads the members through the liturgical agenda.  Standing at the Lectern or Pulpit or Font, the pastor makes sure the service of worship proceeds “decently and in order.” 

Now, that’s a phrase often used with reference to business meetings, or church meetings that get involved in polity.  I confess that I made extensive use of the term during the years that I was stated clerk of my presbytery. Take a look at the end of the 14^th chapter of Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, and you will see it refers to how people should worship God: “…all things should be done decently and in order.” That phrase is the bottom line, Paul’s last word on the subject.

Of course there is more to leading worship than making sure everyone “gets the rite right.” The order of worship can be marched through with lock-step precision, and leave every heart untouched, every soul unchanged. The presider comes with his or her personal passion of faith to encounter God, to be moved by the Spirit and to follow wherever the risen Lord leads.

For the person who leads worship is worshipping too.  The truth is, it isn’t always easy to do.  Leading worship can be a huge distraction from really worshipping. There are many things to keep track of and remember to do.  Nevertheless, the worship leader—in fact all worship leaders, lay readers and musicians too—are there to worship.  If the pastor is authentically worshiping, his or her attitude will set a good example.

This does not mean, you can be sure, that the pastor/presider, or any other leader of liturgy, will “perform” and act out the role of a pious person on stage before the congregational crowd. That shifts the whole event into the category of entertainment, with the people as the audience instead of Almighty God. If worship is to be genuine for the folks who come, it will have to be the “real deal” for the leaders.

Notice that the presider is always face-to-face with the people.  The visual presence of the worship leader provides a social glue to hold the congregation together.  Eye contact is extremely powerful in leadership, especially in a sharing as intimate as worship can be.  The leaders up front in the room complete the circle of the assembly.  The lay person reading a New Testament epistle is delivering the mail to this particular congregation.  The preacher proclaiming the Good News knows the people with whom she’s having this important conversation.  The pastor with the prayers of the people looks directly at those whose prayers he is articulating.  In a special way, singing the hymns, a group exercise of praise and prayer, the presider is part of the congregation/choir, leading the way.

A very practical, advantage of the presider being up front at all times is that the people in the pews are visible to the presider. Facial expressions and physical postures speak volumes about needed pastoral care.  Comings and goings may ring alarms of emergent need. Seeing a particular person may trigger a reminder of responsibility to be filled.

Being a presider is a complicated and sometimes difficult task.  Yet in taking on this role, one is at the center of the church being re-assembled by God, created anew by the Spirit as God’s own people, and meeting the risen Lord once again to be his disciples.  It promises to be an uplifting experience every time.

What other advantages are there to leading worship?  Where are the pitfalls?

"Care-Full" Worship

The first visit I made many years ago to the New Skete Monastery near Cambridge, New York, required a substantial thought adjustment on my part.

A friend and I arrived unannounced at their “Old World” church for Vespers as the sun was setting. We were the only visitors. The service was beautifully sung and chanted by the ten monks, for more than an hour.

To my Protestant mind, it was impressive, to say the least. Wow! I thought, how much rehearsal must it have taken to perform such a program? Not only Vespers (Evening Prayer), but they sang Matins (Morning Prayer) every day as well. The brothers had shown extraordinary care in preparing their liturgy, the music, the space, everything. Clearly all this was not for just the two of us. If my friend and I had not shown up, it would have been only the monks and their God in the liturgical conversation.

Well, this demanded a reorienting of my ideas of worship. So often in Protestant churches, we are so concerned with the response and reaction of the “audience,” we forget that the most important listener is the Almighty.

Even so, in our desire to please the congregation in front of us, we don’t always give it our very best. We cut corners or slack off a bit, because we are too busy in other arenas of our lives. Worship doesn’t always appear at the top of the To-Do List. Even if it does, other responsibilities are known to claw their way to the top of the heap. Preparing and leading worship may be ranked Number One, but there are a lot of other things ranked One-B. Clergy have sermon prep, visits, committees, counseling, family, prayer, study, and those other unexpected emergencies that take over prime time. Everyone is busily busy.

Nevertheless, should we not care more fully about our worship? Is it not important for us to make it as first-rate and near perfect as possible? Being care-full in our worship demands our extra attention in many areas.

If one is going to use electronics, for example, spend the extra time to make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to.

As the guest preacher one Sunday, I was greeted by an elder who clamped a tiny mike on my stole. I asked to try it out, and when we did, I was glad we did, because it only worked on its own whim. After fussing to fix it and failing, I removed the mike and spoke louder. Microphones, amplifiers and speakers that crackle and cut out can completely obscure whatever is being said or sung. Give electronics considerable care.

I’m not a fan of projecting lyrics or readings on the wall, mainly because it is so rarely done with perfection. In a church recently a lengthy creedal statement was printed in the bulletin in paragraph-prose format, but also shown on the wall. Most people watched the wall. So when one slide was skipped, the leaders continued without the congregation, until they caught up with the wall. Better to read it from the printed page. If you’re into projecting, be extra full of care.

(Also, while we’re on the subject, printing anything to be read by the people is best not in a paragraph-prose format. Try phrase-lining, a phrase to a line as one would speak it—for samples, look at the prayers in the Book of Common Worship. It’s a way of being care-full so the people can do their parts in prayer and praise.)

And one more small admonition to care: proof read. The misspelling of a word that people are to read aloud can be annoying at best, disastrous at worst. Someone other than the secretary or writer should give it a care-full second, even third look.

After all, when we worship, we are gathered in God’s presence, and it behooves us to be full of care so we do our best for our God.

(S)ending

Sometimes it’s the bumper-sticker quotes that stick to my brain and remind me of a critical truth. The one that’s been pestering me recently is this: “We go from service of worship to the worship of service.”

Too often service concludes not with a “sending” but an “ending.” Worship winds up with a closed door, slammed, not swung open to world. When that happens, the curtain comes down and worship winds up just going through the motions.

On the other hand, sending means that our worship is open-ended. When it’s over, it’s not over. So something must happen to lead us out to be God’s people scattered into the world.

Whether your congregation is made up of 50 or 100 or thousands, stop thinking about it the number of people in the pews. What really counts in the long run is how many Christian disciples go out into the world to be the Body of Christ and do his work as our constant acts of worship. What a difference might that many laborers make?

For liturgy to have value, as we all know, it must be lived. Otherwise, our prayers and praise have a hollow sound to them. The “work of the people” during the hour or so on Sunday morning needs transforming into the “work of the people” the rest of the time.

The Book of Common Worship (1993) views the order of Christian liturgy in four major sections: Gathering, The Word, The Eucharist, and Sending. It’s the use of the term “Sending” that tips us to the clue that our Lord’s Day worship experiences are not finished when we leave; we are just shifting to a different expression of prayer and praise to Almighty God in the outside world.

Prayers of the People

Someone once said that we should offer our prayers every day with the morning newspaper at hand. To prepare ourselves for “going out into the world,” it’s a good idea to bring the world in to our worship first. Prayers of the people can be pointedly aimed at current questions or controversies. This delivers our prayers from being so vague as to be ultimately meaningless. A friend of mine once said: “All our prayers are down payments on our actions so they will come true.”

Special Announcement

There may be opportunities for congregants to venture in ministry and service beyond their own church activities. It would be appropriate to announce such occasions toward the end of the service, briefly, as a memory boost. There may also be specific references in the sermon to local issues or needs that call for Christian response. These can be underlined by a brief mention.

The Charge

The BCW provides a number of charges to the congregation based on biblical references to worshipping God in action. For example, See 1 Cor. 16:13; 2 Tim. 2:1; Eph. 6:10; 1 Thess. 5:13-22; and 1 Peter 2:17
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.

This charge is the one I most often use, as I have for many years. Many times I’ve been asked for a copy of it. I’ve been told that it has been memorized by some, and in other homes it’s appeared on refrigerators, dresser tops and bathroom mirrors—a constant reminder that we are all “sent” people every day. Including Sunday mornings.

and Benediction

The benediction completes the charge to the congregation. Not only are we sent out to act faithfully as disciples of Christ, we are also conferred (read “blessed” and “empowered”) with God’s love and grace to accomplish what we are charged to do and be.

Recessional

The practice of the choir and other worship leaders filing out during the last hymn is a helpful example. Just as a procession at the beginning of the service is symbolic of the gathering of the community, so the recession visually displays the start of the dispersion of worshippers to serve in God’s name.

Postlude

In some places it is the custom to remain seated for the postlude. Not that it’s supposed to be a “performance,” although some treat it that way. Rather the postlude can serve as accompaniment for a time of reflection to absorb the meaning of the worship, in which case it might be quiet and contemplative in tone.

On the other hand, if there is to be reflective ending music, it should be followed by a very different postlude when the congregation is on the move out of the pews. That calls for music to be bright and brassy, a sprightly tune for the “exit dance.”

Go forth and carry your worship with you wherever you go and whatever you do.

Worship at Meetings - Part 2

In the previous post, I lamented the deflated worship before/during/after a meeting that was the result of the planners duplicating or rehearsing Lord’s Day services, or perhaps creating something ex nihilo. The reason this too often happens, I think, is that these are the only options the producers of liturgy think they have: a Sunday-like service, or make it up.

Ah, but there is something else, another model that’s been around a long, long time for the people of God to use. Known typically as “Daily Prayer” in Christian circles, this form of worship is rooted in ancient Hebrew practice, and repeatedly reformed and renewed by the Church through the centuries. (For purposes of discussion here, I’m referring to the daily prayer source I know the best, Book of Common Worship—Daily Prayer, Westminster John Knox Press, 1993.)

While Daily Prayer is often practiced as an individual exercise, it was really designed for groups. Nevertheless, some folks surmise that saying prayers every day is accomplished solo. When we assemble with others, they think “Sunday” and follow that great tradition. Daily Prayer, however, has its own tradition, running simultaneously with the development of Lord’s Day worship. Over the centuries the two have connected and co-opted items back and forth, but always remained different, serving various needs in a variety of ways.

The Daily Prayer option offers flexibility in use for groups small and large, meetings long and short. The service can be molded to fit the shape of any meeting from that of a national group to a family of four, from an ecclesiastical judicatory to a neighborhood service committee, from a seminary chapel to a Sunday school class. What is more, such a service often is lay-led, not requiring the presence or participation of clergy.

Daily Prayer is shaped by the cycle of the day, starting with Evening as in the biblical tradition. Morning, Midday, Evening, and Close of Day—each one calls for a special time of prayer. Morning and Evening are the major times, with Midday and Close of Day inserted as their brief extensions.

Each service offers the possibility of compression or expansion as appropriate. For example, Morning Prayer, with optional items to be added, is outlined this way:

Opening Sentences
Morning Psalm or Morning Hymn
Psalm(s)
Silent Prayer
[Psalm Prayer]
Scripture Reading
Silent Reflection
[A Brief Interpretation of the Reading, or a Nonbiblical Reading]
Canticle of Zechariah or Other Canticle
Prayers of Thanksgiving and Intercession
Concluding Prayer
Lord's Prayer
[Hymn or Spiritual]
Dismissal
[Sign of Peace]

At the other extreme, given the need to abbreviate the service, it could be cut to the bare essentials:

Psalm
Scripture Reading
Silent Reflection
Prayers of Thanksgiving and Intercession

Or, of course, the services could be compressed or expanded to the “perfect” size and shape.

Certainly planning and producing a Daily Prayer service is much more than assembling the list of ingredients. Essential is that the event be personalized. It’s all about God’s relationship to the people in the room and their relationship to God.

One of the ways this happens is in the Morning and Evening Prayers of Thanksgiving and Intercession. Ellipses (….) provide opportunities for silent or vocalized prayers by the participants related to specific subjects of common concern.

For example, just before the prayers at the end of a meeting of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, the 600-plus commissioners were asked to stack their materials on their desks in front of them. During the brief service, prayers offering the work of the assembly to God were vocalized, prayers of thanksgiving for the gifts of the Spirit, prayers for those served by actions of the assembly, and so forth, each followed by silence for individual prayers recalling personal involvement. That worship experience has been in my memory for decades.

Another example came from a series of session meetings I moderated while the church was seeking a pastor. At the start of each meeting we had a brief Evening Prayer, prepared by me but led by the elders. During the Prayers of Thanksgiving and Intercession, personal concerns and celebrations came out. By this prayerful sharing, the members bonded to accomplish their challenging task.

Months later two of the elders asked me if I’d help them do Daily Prayer services for a weekend meeting involving several congregations. I told them I was sure they knew how to do it, and they should go ahead—I‘d help them if they got stuck. They never asked more of me. They did just fine.

Prayer is always a personal matter. The tradition of Daily Prayer in the Church is a great resource for those who plan for weekday worship that supports the ministry of the people of God. Next time you’re asked to lead worship for your group, reach for a book of Daily Prayer.

Worship at Meetings

We Presbyterians are wont to gather in clusters from time to time, just to bring local congregational representatives and clergy together for mutual support and guidance. These are “presbytery meetings,” during which we talk (and sometimes argue, or debate,) about ecclesiastical and social issues, and how best we can be the church in a larger-than-congregational region.

For many of us clergy, especially those of us who are retired from parish ministry, this is our church. (Presbyterian clergy do not have membership in local churches, but in a presbytery.) So it’s particularly important that we worship and pray together, for in this particular grouping, we are a unique expression of the whole Church of Jesus Christ.

Therefore, it’s crucial that worship be “authentic” and “meaningful” and “relevant,” and you can add other appropriate modifiers. What happens so often instead is that worship at these meetings often comes off as either “sloppy” or “stilted,” “casual” or “high-church formal.”

For one example, there are the occasions when, in the middle of a meeting, delegates take time out, usually before a meal, to “have church.” What is experienced may be a Sunday morning sample, either a preview of next Sunday’s service for the planners or preacher, or a rehash of an old preaching and prayers.

In both situations worship is likely to be below par in fulfilling the modifiers. Rehearsals are rarely as well presented as the event itself. And re-runs are weak and weary. Second runs of sermons are, as someone once told me, “as tasty as yesterday’s mashed potatoes.”

On the other hand, however, worship offered at these get-togethers can be just the opposite. Neither rehearsal nor re-run, it appears to be last-minute and thoughtless.

In addition to my own past experiences, I sometimes get reports from my friends in distant regions about such “wannabe worship” experiences that never quite make it. Often they take place like this:

When the leader says, “Let us pray,” heads are appropriately bowed, unaware that hi-tech projections on the wall give a prayer to say in unison or lyrics of a prayerful hymn to sing. The leader lacks leadership. Then we have those musicians who don’t bother to tune up in advance, or even practice what they’re playing, and so their accompaniment is a rough and ragged distraction for the singers. An ad-lib prayer is often thrown in, punctuated with uh’s and um’s. I have no problems with prayers offered in the moment, but they should be thoughtful and clear. There’s no shame in writing down a prayer. Worship at meetings deserves more than an offhand and erratic experience.

The problem with both the Sunday service imitation and the slipshod alternative is that neither one takes into account the group of people there as a group, as a body of Christians who are part of the Body of Christ.

How rare it is when a group assembled for a meeting can worship in the context of their immediate circumstance. As each meeting is different and as each group has its own ongoing history of challenges and needs, the worship of that group should lift up those particulars.

My own experience lately has been that I didn’t realize how inadequate some of our presbytery worship was until we had a couple of meetings where our prayer and preaching rose out of our situation. It all fit who we were in those moments, what worried us, and where we might be going. After those experiences, I began to see clearly where other efforts were lacking. Do it well and you’ll not want to settle for less ever again.

The other problem with the two alternatives mentioned above is that they are cheap efforts. Not much energy has been put into them. Using an old order, bygone prayers, and past preaching is a shortcut, just as thoughtless as pulling a prayer out of the hat and improvising the music. In both cases, preparation is needed. Preparation prevents perfunctory praise and prayer.

What is more, preparation is itself an act of prayer and worship. Writing a prayer, reading commentaries, doing exegesis, learning the music, tuning the instrument, thinking through the service, and thinking some more about what is needed, what God is offering—all of this is worship that lays the groundwork for the worship of the community.

Working carefully to prepare the worship for such assemblages is the appropriate and right thing to do for the worshippers. Yet even more so, we do not ever want to cut corners in what we offer our God in praise and prayer. God is worthy of our very best.

Distractions

The report I received from a friend on a worship workshop for musicians and clergy was enthusiastically favorable. The discussion during the event, however, hit upon one sour note.

When the attendees were asked to “describe a memorable worship experience,” a frequent response was something like “I don’t get to worship because I am always thinking of the next thing that needs to be done." They had to reach back to the rare experiences where they were not leading to find anything worthy of “memorable.” My friend said this raised the question for her, “How can worship leaders lead worship when they do not have worship experiences themselves?”

That is an excellent question in and of itself.

Anyone who leads worship, clergy, musician or layperson, knows that there are always details of the service that need persistent attention. These can be significant distractions, drawing the leader’s attention away from the reason for being there: the worship of Almighty God.

At the same time, however, the reality of bits and pieces in a liturgical service, does not preempt the possibility of the leader actually worshiping with the community. Leading worship is not separate from and exclusive of actually worshiping. It’s entirely possible—even desirable—for the leader to lead by actually worshiping.

One Sunday on the way out of church a parishioner approached me with a sympathetic face and said, “Had a rough week, huh?” Since it was, as a matter of fact a rather nice week, I replied, “What do you mean?” So he explained, “Your silent prayer of confession took up a long time, longer than I needed, so I figured you had a bad time.”

There are some, I know, who count so many seconds for the duration of a silent prayer. That’s arbitrary and more than a mere distraction—it’s giving in to separating leadership from worship. I had long since learned that if I were going to take part in the worship I was leading, I would just do it.

This works in other parts of the service too. Leaders like to sing hymns, so go ahead and belt them out enthusiastically with the congregation. Don’t give up the joy of that to worrying about where the offering plates are hidden.

Prayers are not just for the people in the pews; leaders can, and should pray them as well. If you use one in the BCW or other source, rework it to make it yours, or write your own. In the preparation of prayers pray them as you select or write them, and give them a second shot heavenward in the service.

Reading Scripture also is a worshipful event. When reading the morning lessons on Sunday you can hear them afresh yourself; the Spirit brings life to the Word, so listen as you read.

All choristers know well that singers can be uplifted and stirred spiritually by their own singing. Choirs don’t perform to congregations, they perform in praise to God.

All of this is to say that one cannot adequately lead worship without worshiping. When that happens, something is out of sync in the worship experience. Furthermore, it’s a formula for stale and dry liturgy. When distractions rule, enthusiasm wanes.

Søren Kierkegaard, 19th century Danish philosopher/theologian, used a metaphor of worship-as-drama in his lover’s quarrel with the church. It’s time to dust it off again and put it to work.

S.K. saw that most people who went to church viewed worship as a drama (often true today as well). God was recognized as the Prompter cuing the Actors (clergy and musicians) who performed for the Audience (people in the pews). The only problem was that assigning the roles that way was wrong. Weak worship was the result.

According to Kierkegaard, the roles should be shifted one space around so that the congregation becomes the Performer, the clergy/musicians the Prompter, and God is the Audience.

When we reassign the roles properly, we find that the worship leader is not a performer, but a prompter, part of the worshiping community. The leader has a role, not separate from the liturgical action of the people, but a significant part of it. If the leader will worship with the people, than there is more passion in the readings, more soul in the prayers, and more zeal in the singing of praise to Almighty God.

Finally, worship on Sunday morning by the whole community is supported by a discipline of Daily Prayer. It is critical that worship leaders and preparers have developed for themselves a pattern of “continuous prayer” (I Thess. 5:16-18) that will carry over into the Lord’s Day worship of the gathered community.

This will overwhelm all silly little concerns that threaten to skew our focus on glorifying God and enjoying God forever.

Foot Washing?

“Shall we wash feet on Maundy Thursday, or not?” It seems that in some liturgical circles congregational participation in a foot washing ritual is considered mandatory.

I’m not a great fan of Holy Thursday foot washing for several reasons.

For one thing, it is not clearly mandated as is the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper—either by the Lord himself or the Scriptures that tell about him. Jesus doesn’t hold back in directing his disciples to eat the bread and drink the wine he offers at the final meal, because in the sharing he is giving of himself. The scriptural warrant for the Lord’s Supper is unmistakably ordered by the Master for future gatherings, starting with the earliest reference by the Apostle Paul in his firsts letter to the Corinthians (11:23-26) and the three synoptic gospels (Mt. 26:17-30, Mk. 14:12-26, and Lk. 22:7-39).

On the other hand, Jesus washing his disciples’ feet (John 13:1-17:26) is offered as an example of what the disciples “ought” to do for one another. The action takes place at the final meal in the context of the revelation of Judas’s imminent betrayal and a large amount of last minute instructions for the rest of the disciples. While it takes place at the table, the mandate of the Last Supper is never mentioned, and neither are the references to sharing the bread and wine Jesus offers. The act of cleaning the disciples’ feet is a dramatization of the servant role the disciples are given by their Lord.

The point is that the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper as observed at the Last Supper is dominant, for that is where the final drama takes place. It is in our sharing of Christ’s gifts of bread and wine that we share in his life, and as the Holy Week moves along, in his death as well. But the rite of foot washing is secondary to the sacrament, at most. To make a large production out of it allows it to up-stage the real action: bread is broken and shared, wine is poured and passed from one to another, and Christ is present.

This is not to minimize the import of the cleansing rite, for it is a strong theological message the Master left all who would follow him—21st century disciples included. The biblical view of foot washing was a cultural gesture of hospitality and humility—worthy virtues for any follower of Jesus.

Another reason I’m not terribly enthusiastic about a foot washing ritual is that it is often carried out in a complicated and clumsy manner. The last one I took part in was in a large congregation, and it took much longer to wash feet than it did to partake of the Holy Meal. It was a huge distraction and anti-climax, drawing attention away from the Meal.

Also, my experience has been that a number of people stay seated for the ritual of foot washing and are observers rather than participants. It may be personal embarrassment or medical reasons or whatever, but they are in a very passive if not withdrawn mode. That puts them in a very different role as an audience, and removes them from performing the worship to show their obedience and humility.

Finally, when such liturgical floundering is anticipated, there is the temptation to improvise or improve on the foot washing by doing something “cute.” For example, I recently heard about one attempt made to include the substance of the foot-washing by allowing people to keep shoes and socks on and instead wash hands. That, they decided, would be much less “distasteful” than bathing the feet. Of course that misses the original cultural point of foot washing in the first place. Changing feet to hands is moving away from meaning of Christ’s example with his disciples and the mandates he taught them. Some have even suggested hand-washing among Christians on Maundy Thursday can be liturgically linked to Pilate’s hand scrubbing. That is a stretch, to say the least.

If your congregation is going to have foot washing on Maundy Thursday as a worshipful action, there are some cautions.

First, be sure the congregation is educated in advance about the theological meaning and what it can mean for them personally as an act of devotion and worship.

Also, make sure worshippers have prepared their feet to be washed—they might best come not wearing stockings and have on shoes easily removed.

Finally, work out the choreography so people know where they’re going and don’t stumble or bump into one another—perhaps they may instead use the time for contemplation of Christ’s presence in the event they are celebrating.

This is, after all, Holy Week, and the journey to the Cross is the path our worship pilgrimage must take. Our Lord presides at the Table to offer us food for this life-changing journey.

Remembering the Saints

Today, as everyone surely knows, is “St. Patrick’s Day.” Unfortunately, it has become a civic celebration more than a prompt to prayer. For most folks, it’s an occasion for wearing green, being “Irish” even if you’re not, and sampling some brew of Emerald Isle origin.

For those who follow a calendar of daily prayer, however, remembering the saints of the church is important in a very different way. Those pilgrims who travelled before us are often models and mentors in prayer and practice.Today, as everyone surely knows, is “St. Patrick’s Day.” Unfortunately, it has become a civic celebration more than a prompt to prayer. For most folks, it’s an occasion for wearing green, being “Irish” even if you’re not, and sampling some brew of Emerald Isle origin.

On this day, March 17, the Christian calendar of commemorations presents St. Patrick (c. 390-461?), “Apostle of Ireland.” If you peel off the legend and lore about Patrick, you’ll discover a powerful story of diligent faith.

At the age of 16, while caring for his father’s sheep somewhere in the western shore of what is now Scotland, Patrick was kidnapped and taken captive to Ireland. After some six years of enslavement, he managed to escape to the continent where he found refuge and education in monasteries. It was about A.D. 432 that Patrick was ordained bishop, and returned to Ireland to bring his Christian faith to his former captors. He is credited with firmly establishing the faith on the Emerald Isle.

Patrick has always had a special appeal to me. His return to minister to those who treated him like a slave was extraordinary. It would be understandable if he never wanted to go back to the people who snatched him away from his home and kept him confined in a foreign land. Vengeance and hatred would be reasonable attitudes in which he might indulge. He is instead an example of forgiveness, grace and diligence in Christian discipleship.

I became aware of an even closer connection between Patrick and me as we were working on the Daily Prayer Supplemental Liturgical Resource. We were hoping to include a Calendar of Commemorations listing notable people and events of Christian history. This would help place us in the continuing journey of people of faith through the centuries.

Remembering the custom in many traditions, we would suggest that people identify themselves with the hero or heroine of the faith on whose remembrance date they were baptized. I was baptized, as it turned out, on March 17—Patrick was indelibly written into my life. In the years since, this day is a special one for me to remember my baptism, my calling by Christ to be his faithful follower, after the example of Patrick and many others.

The year’s calendar is full of celebrations of holy people of God, usually on the date in which they are baptized in death and raised again into heaven’s life. Do you know the date of your baptism? Have you found one of God’s heroes or heroines whose death date matches your baptismal date?

Signage

You’ve seen those digital signs, I’m sure, in grocery stores, on banks, at sporting events, even guiding travelers through airports.

Nowadays, at least in our neck of the woods, there seems to be a rash of these bright-bulb boards popping up in front of churches.

It’s not that they are simply for designating the denomination and hours of worship, but they also announce the current time and temperature, perhaps with a quick weather report, and sometimes wish passers-by a happy greeting regarding the next secular holiday. Of course, there is also the invitation to “join us” for worship and other church activities.

I know pastors and other people responsible for congregations are eager to get the word out so that new folks might find their way in on some Sunday morning. That’s perfectly reasonable. But so often these signs seem so crass that the invitations look like the welcome at Loew’s theaters, to “sit back, relax and enjoy the show.”

Church people are much too quick to jump on the latest marketing bandwagon. Those digital billboards on major highways have begat progeny in the form of smaller church signs. If it works on super highways to get people to go to the movies, it should be even better to draw a congregation for Lord’s Day worship.

Besides, a bright animated sign demonstrates how modern we Christians are, and just might impress the younger generation.

It took me a while to figure out why I really don’t like those blinking signs on church lawns. In front of a preacher-personality driven church, it seems appropriate, perhaps. But when one shows up at the front door of a mainline church in the Reformed tradition my issues come clear.

First of all, such digital signs advertise the worship service as entertainment. I have ranted about this problem sufficiently before, and so have many other people since Søren Kierkegaard. Christian worship is not for the congregation; the true Audience is the Almighty, and we come to perform our prayers and praise. Somehow if we don’t have worship as the fundamental act connecting us with our triune God, whatever else we do is in jeopardy of being vain and empty of purpose.

Secondly, the cute and clever flashing signs out front verge on false advertising. They indicate a nice, safe and pleasant place where one can come to relax. They glow with affluence. Such a sign signals a successful church—at least financially. It’s a comfortable church, and who wouldn’t want to go there with all they must have to offer.

The problem here is that such advertising is more about what the worshipper will get than what he or she will give. There are plenty of televangelists to have the easy solution to all problems, and you can tune in and get a feel-good gospel. The Gospel of Jesus, on the other hand, says something about “taking up a cross” in order to follow him. To be a disciple of the Risen Christ today is, or should be recognized as being, just as dangerously risky as it was in the early church and ever since. And it’s still all about giving, and then giving more.

Of course, if you put that on the sign, it just might scare off a few prospective members. So what does one do to fill the pews?

Telling the truth is a good start. Many of the heroes and heroines of the faith found that following Jesus was often rough traveling on a very bumpy road. Doing what needs to be done in this world, in our society, in your town and mine, to “prepare the way of the Lord” takes a heap of energy and effort.

The way we market our faith is to follow the most obvious principle of retail: The best advertising for anything is the endorsement of someone who owns one. Demonstrating our faith by action is more convincing than any blinking sign, no matter how bright and beautiful it may be.

It’s prudent for us not to get so enchanted with modernity and all the electronic do-dads and gizmos that flash so brilliantly that they blind us as we try to follow where Christ leads.

Does your church have a digital sign?

Sermonizing

During the heady days of the 1960s following Vatican II, Presbyterian clergy were urged by higher authorities to initiate conversations with Roman Catholic priests. When we did so locally, our newly discovered colleagues were more than willing to discuss anything with us, but especially worship.

The concern we Protestants had was to understand the liturgical elegance of the Romans. What did all that mean? How do you do it? In the years that followed we learned a great deal from our colleagues, locally and world-wide.

On the priests’ minds, however, was a question for us about a different aspect of worship: “How do you manage preaching week after week?” Actually, the issue was larger than that. For it also raised the issue of defining preaching for them, and for us. What is it that we do when we go to the pulpit and speak forth?

I like to think that fifty-plus years out of seminary I’ve learned how to preach, but every sermon is a challenge and an opportunity to do it better. It is during my retirement, however, that I’ve discovered new insights on a way of describing preaching, if not exactly defining it. The “view from the pew” has been very informative.

When I was a preaching pastor, I rarely had the opportunity to hear other preachers. Looking back on that lack of experience, I’d now recommend strongly that every pastor regularly (say, four times a year at least) be sent off to other churches to worship. Then they’d listen to sermons in a very different way—as pew-sitters rather than as preachers.

So far, I’ve found that sermons I hear fall roughly into four “categories.” These are not rigid groupings, but sorts of Sunday preachments that I’ve heard, not just from Presbyterians, but from other Protestants, Roman Catholics and Orthodox. Often a sermon would reflect more than one type, yet usually one would dominate.

The Lecture

One preacher I know was especially good at this. He came out of a ministry focused on social issues, and his sermons were loaded with illustrations of the implications of the Gospel in the world around us.

Mind you, these were informative lectures. He could have included an extra insert in the morning bulletin offering footnotes and citations of resources—instead he spoke them, which lengthened the lectures.

From my position in the pew, however, I did not find his lectures relevant in any personal way. Perhaps some were caught up and inspired by his words. My reaction as I left was that it was a good lecture, but it was all about something “out there,” distant and beyond my reach.

The Lesson

Sometimes I’ve been treated to a Bible-study lesson in place of a sermon. The congregation was instructed to grab a Bible from the pew rack, or look at the screen to have the text at hand. Then we went through it verse by verse with homiletical bits thrown out along the way.

On a couple of occasions, a separate sheet has been provided with an outline of the text, and spaces in which to scrawl your notes.

While there were times when this was very informative, and the interpretation of the preacher/teacher was fascinating, this also was a distancing experience. The connection between the speaker and the pew-sitters was not made; on the contrary, it was blocked by the intrusion of printed materials.

The Essay

There are those preachers who offer a theological essay. They may be sharply reasoned, clearly stated, and theologically profound. The diligence of the speaker’s study and depth of wisdom is often impressive. It can be the kind of speech you’d like to have in print to take home and ponder at length.

And therein lies the problem. The distance from the listener is because of the complexity of the thought processes. The theological essay is often too much for most people to absorb in one sitting. To many, it will come off as abstract and remote, maybe making the speaker seem arrogant and aloof.

The Sermon

So if those are the problems, what might the solution be? Someone* once said, “Sermons are intimate conversations with people you love.”

What I welcome as a worshipper is the sense that the preacher is speaking to me, and to everyone else in the room. This means that the preacher really cares about us, has a pastoral attitude, and wants to share something very personal, something of life-and-death importance. What is more, the person in the pulpit speaks from personal experience and is human like the rest of us.

The bridges between preacher and people are crossed and the barriers are broken down in a good sermon. The Gospel is shared, passed along by word of mouth, to be carried out the door and lived.

In the interest of candor, I will admit that I’ve delivered my share of what I’d hoped would pass as sermons, but included some of the stuff of Lectures, Lessons and Essays. When I let the Gospel speak to me, when I heard the Word in my heart, and then boldly let it speak through me to others, then a real sermon was given.

What kind of sermons do you hear where you are? What kind do you preach?

*This was attributed to Frederick Buechner, although he did not own it when I interviewed him for the Reformed Liturgy & Music journal in 1994. If you’d like to have a copy of the interview, drop me an email at dwstake@aol.com.

Christmas Is Personal

Canticle of Simeon
Nunc Dimittis; Luke 2:29-32

Now, Lord, you let your servant go in peace:
your word has been fulfilled.
My own eyes have seen the salvation
which you have prepared in the sight of every people:
a light to reveal you to the nations
and the glory of your people Israel.


If there is one person with whom we can identify, especially we older folks, it is the old man Simeon. He just knew in his heart of hearts that he would not leave this life without coming face to face with the Messiah of God.

Sure enough, when Mary and Joseph brought their child Jesus to the temple to fulfill the requirements of dedication, Simeon met them. He recognized the infant as the One he was waiting for. The encounter had an enormous impact on Simeon’s life—in fact, it gave meaning to Simeon’s many years of worshipping God.

The tradition of the church calls us to sing Simeon’s song each night as our day comes to an end. When we give ourselves up to sleep, we surrender our lives into God’s keeping, confident in the promise of new life when morning comes. Like Simeon, we are prompted by the Spirit to recognize the presence of God’s Messiah, remembering how we, too, have prayed and longed for what our Christ will bring us.

Simeon’s Song is a canticle for Christmas, a personal message to each one of us. Christmas is the reminder that God has come to us in Jesus Christ, to each one personally, even in the darkest of times, revealing the brightness of God’s glory.

Sometimes the personal impact of Christmas gets blurred by the busyness of the season. Put Simeon's Song on your list to sing this year. Take Christmas very personally. As Simeon took the child Jesus in his arms, each one of us can embrace God’s gift of grace with joy, and then, wherever God will lead us, we will go in peace.

Why Do We (Not) Sing Psalms?

It’s a double-barreled question.

Way back when, it was the custom of Presbyterians to sing psalms. In fact, in church they sang only psalms. Anything other than the biblical Psalms was unfit for human singing, because the Psalter had divine authorship, or, at the very least, God’s seal of approval.

Songs of mere human composition just didn’t measure up. This was true at least until people like the brothers Wesley and Watts took pen to paper and came up with psalm-like hymns that were seductively singable. Their success provoked the true-blue Psalm-singers to recast the Psalms into hymn-like metrical settings. Sometimes it must have been difficult to tell the difference between biblical songs and songs crafted by humans.

As hymnody increased in popularity for Sunday morning singing, the use of Psalms waned. Why bother with the old when you could have the new?

This very sketchy historical review helps us understand how we Presbyterians (and some other Protestants as well) got to the situation we’re in. The Psalter has been neglected if not abandoned. A Psalm is too rarely sung in worship in some churches, unless it sneaks in masquerading as a hymn. That’s the answer to the question, “Why do we not sing the Psalms?”

If it weren’t for the monastics persisting in singing the Psalms day and night, and the resurgence in local congregations and individual Christians to pray the Liturgy of the Hours, we might have forgotten about Psalms on Sunday morning altogether.

So, now we ask the question, “Why do we sing the Psalms?”

The Psalms are part of our spiritual history. They were collected to be the song/prayer book of Judaism, the anthology Jesus knew, used and quoted. They continued to be the source of prayer and praise for the early Christians.

The Psalms are candid, honest prayers. They cover the full range of human needs, express emotions from one end to the other, and have an intimate and personal quality that touches people in the depths.

The Psalms (at least many of them) are used as responses to the Old Testament reading in Sunday Christian worship. Yet they have also been recognized to speak of Jesus Christ, and in this usage, they show the continuity of God’s revelation throughout the Scripture. In this role, the Psalms serve as a historical and theological bridge between the Old and New Testaments in the pilgrimage of Lord’s Day worship.

When the Psalms are sung on Sunday mornings, the congregation has the opportunity to be the “true choir” as the Reformers thought they should be.

I’m sure there are many other reasons to be cited, but you get the idea. We don’t use the Psalms in worship as well as we could and should.

In my travels in retirement, I’ve confronted this delinquency in various forms. In many churches there simply is no Psalm. Others might include the Psalm, but they will read it (not sing it) responsively. Some will sing a Psalm, but in place of a hymn. Rarely will the Psalm be sung following the Old Testament reading. Even more rare is the chanted Psalm.

Congregational singing of the Psalms can be intimidating, of course, yet with proper training and leadership of church musicians, it can also be tremendously inspiring. I remember well the occasion decades ago when I had the chance to attend a large Lutheran church in Minneapolis. The Psalm that morning was to be chanted, according to the tones recorded in the hymnal. The people had been taught well. The music was uplifting, stirring, even exhilarating as the tones of prayer rose heavenward.

The objections are likely to come quickly when psalm-singing is suggested. “How can we expect the people in the pews to sing anything more demanding than simple hymns?” That’s a good place to start, and move on to chants with congregational responses and refrains, or specially composed pieces, to everyone chanting the full psalm text.

Of course, this does not happen without some exertion on part of worship leaders, clergy and musicians. It requires their liturgical and musical education in order to educate and train the congregation to praise God with sung Psalms.

Psalms are available in many modern settings (and some ancient ones) that lend themselves to congregational usage. Two resources are highly recommended for your perusal: The Psalter: Psalms and Canticles for Singing, Westminster/John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky, 1993; and Psalms for All Seasons, Calvin Institute of Christian Worship, Faith Alive Christian Resources, Brazos Press, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2012.

A Lesson from the East

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?

"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?

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.

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?