I gave a talk yesterday on the future of the church, on the communion that exists between the Lutheran (ELCA) and Episcopal Churches (ECUSA). It was interesting to give a talk about the challenges facing many small congregations while standing in the one of the largest Episcopal churches in our area.
For many, the challenges facing churches are but a distant (and often denied) reality. As long as we are not personally touched by shrinking resources or threats to longevity we don't think about change or rethinking the mission of church. One of the indictments I shared with this group was the reality that Christianity can far too easily be reduced to a benefits plan: we get our "barcode" access for heaven, we focus on what Christ has done for us, and we are pleasantly satisfied with a sense of being the passive "elect" or the "frozen chosen."
But Christianity, being people of the Way, is far more than that. It is not a benefits plan. It is not subject to every wind of change or consumeristic preference. No, we are are not updating our prayer books to include light shows, fog machines or a break before communion to the cappuccino bar in the narthex. Remember the words we find in Sirach 39:
On the other hand he who devotes himself
to the study of the law of the Most High
will seek out the wisdom of all the ancients,
and will be concerned with prophecies;
2 he will preserve the discourse of notable men
and penetrate the subtleties of parables;
3 he will seek out the hidden meanings of proverbs
and be at home with the obscurities of parables.
4 He will serve among great men
and appear before rulers;
he will travel through the lands of foreign nations,
for he tests the good and the evil among men.
5 He will set his heart to rise early
to seek the Lord who made him,
and will make supplication before the Most High;
he will open his mouth in prayer
and make supplication for his sins.
In the Episcopal and Lutheran traditions our liturgical services largely remain the same and for good reason. Surprisingly, for many young people who have participated in very contemporary styles of worship, a return to the ancient pattern of Word and Meal service can actually be refreshing and fulfilling according to many polls.
When I ponder the deeper realities of authority and tradition and the mysterious contours of gift we have been given in our Word and Meal services, I am reminded of a conversation I heard in one of the In the Company of Preachers tracts. A gentleman asked “why do we keep doing this [worship], coming back here every seven days?” His answer was basically that we find it hard to go more than seven days and still remember and embody the promises of the Gospel. I find that to be honest and true.
As I understand the role and symbol of the priesthood of all believers, we are called to be people who understand that things are not as they should be and yet we are called to care for them as they are. Therefore, we are faithful to a tradition, and it requires of us to be entering and wandering, waiting and wondering, wading and sending in this world. And, thanks be to God, it is not as if we do not have a company of witnesses before us to look for inspiration.
In the tradition of Julian of Norwich and Theresa of Avila, I think we should learn to render ourselves vulnerable to the favors of God: those indescribable experiences that mock our dualisms and so saturate our imagination with abundance that it transcends our ability to convey the joy and wonder. In the tradition of John of the Cross, we should learn to survive the dark night of the soul without bitter resentment and hostility. In the tradition of the Wesleys (John and Charles) our hearts should be strangely warmed so that we refuse to pit head, heart, and hand against one another.
Then, and only then, the end goal of tradition can be met: the intellectual, experiential and spiritual come together as expressions of the one great love: the pure gift given, received, and then shared with a hurting and broken world.
A prayer from Walter Bruegemann:
With the energy we have,
we begin the day,
waiting and watching and hoping.
We wait,
not clear about our waiting.
But filled with restlessness,
daring to imagine
that you are not finished yet--
so we wait,
patiently, impatiently,
restlessly, confidently,
quaking and fearful,
boldly and daring.
Your sovereign decree stands clear
and we do not doubt.
We wait for you to dissolve in tender tears.
Your impervious rule takes no prisoners,
we wait for you to ache and hurt and care over us
and with us
and beyond us.
Cry with us the brutality
grieve with us the misery
tremble with us the poverty and hurt.
Attend to us--by attending in power and in mercy,
remake this alien world into our proper home.
We pray in the name of the utterly homeless one,
even Jesus.
Amen.
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