Holy Chaos and the Kingdom of God

A couple of weeks ago during the singing of the Psalm, a young boy looked at me and waved.  I waved back.  Suddenly I was overcome with an urge to engage more with that young man, so during the sequence hymn (Episcospeak for hymn before the reading of the Gospel), I marched (and in 4 inch heels march is the only thing you can do--tiptoeing is nor permitted), down the side aisle.  My 18 year old's eyes grew (he was sitting behind him); he may have been my son for 18 years, but I think he's still not quite sure what I'm usually up to.

I leaned across the young man's mama and daddy and whispered (again this is me--whispering is not part of my usual repertoire), "Do you want to help me?"  He grabbed my hand and we marched back to the altar where we processed with the Gospel book.  I read the Gospel as this young man held the Gospel book for me.  (It was a bit of an adventure in aerobics--the book is very heavy and it was a long Gospel....) I finished, "The Gospel of the Lord"; all responded, "Thanks be to God" and then that young man and I high-fived.

The next week I again found a young child to hold the Gospel for me; this time it was a very little girl.  She was so eager--note to self, eager does not mean fully capable of holding a heavy Gospel book for a long Gospel.  Not a problem--motion to the acolyte who came and stood behind my 3 year old friend assisting with the book.  "This I thought is what church is--multiple ages, helping one another.  All together worshipping together.  And an idea began forming...

Monday I headed to Chicago to present my final project for the year long program I have been a part of--Certificate for Leadership in Lifelong Christian Formation.  (Find out more here--Certificate for Leadership in Lifelong Christian Formation )  As we gathered we were sharing moments when formation occurred in our parishes--intentionally or unintentionally.  I shared this story, and I said, "I have no idea why I did it.  It just happened."

Later that evening several of us were casually talking.  One of the other participants and I have been friends since our time together at St. Paul's Mt. Lebanon.  We were telling stories about the years when our children were little there.  We were all laughing as Lisa and I told stories about Caroline tap dancing into the service following the peace--yes even then she was something else--in fact I think the mothers of the teenagers of that parish might be responsible for a large part...I told a story of how Caroline used to stand in the middle of the church trying to decide which family to sit with for the Eucharist.  (It was never her own family...)  One Sunday she marched to the altar during the principal service and Father Bob (or Father God as she called him) didn't flinch.  Lisa said, "That's why you did what you did that Sunday. You were beginning to be formed as a priest long before you were even in seminary."  And my idea continued to form...

This past Sunday at Trinity we had blessings of the backpacks for back to school.  For the Gospel I brought a young girl up who is quite shy.  As we walked to the altar her hand in mine, I could feel it trembling and I really would not have been surprised if tears had begun spilling down her face.  She was terrified--amen sister sometimes I am too. But when she turned around and held the Gospel--when she was only looking at me and not the 155 people in the congregation, the smile on her face went from ear to ear.  After the Gospel she scampered back to get her backpack.

We prayed for students and teachers.  I was thrilled to see all ages coming forward.  And then, then I put my idea into practice (I did ask the staff at staff meeting what they thought and all gave the thumbs up...).  As the children left to go to Children's chapel and before the sermon I said, "Today we will be doing something a little bit differently.  Today seems like a

good day to invite the children to gather around the altar during the Eucharistic prayer."  I warned the parents that I knew there would
be movement, maybe some giggles but they were to stay put--if there's one thing having four children in four years has taught me it's how to handle chaos.

The peace came; I invited the children; no one came.  I began setting the table and was thinking to myself, "Well that was a flop." but then in my formation minded self instead of turning red in embarrassment I asked myself, "What can I learn from this? Perhaps we need to do this more slowly. Perhaps people aren't ready for this."  I looked up as two children brought the offering forward with the ushers (Organic training from the adult ushers--y'all are amazing.  Thank you for doing that!) I told the acolyte to invite those children to stay.  They didn't.

I looked out at the congregation and suddenly it was clear--MOST OF THE CHILDREN WERE
ALL IN CHILDREN'S CHAPEL!!!  What to do? What to do?  As everyone began to stand up for the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer I said, "Before we start, just so you know, when the children return I will still invite them forward.  There will be a pause--God can handle pauses.  Think about life!"

The children did return and miraculously it was at a time when a pause was barely noticeable.  The children came running down the aisle and gathered all around.  One small boy was jumping up and down trying to see (it's a very high altar--my heels help me); his sister was trying to help him but it wasn't working.  I reached over, lifted him into my left arm and continued.  (Again thank you Father Rob Banse).

I really had no plan--this was semi planned but more organic in nature.  It came time to distribute

communion to those serving on the altar and I decided to serve the children first.  As I leaned down and served them looking into their bright shiny eyes, tears filled mine.  They were eager; they knew what to do; they knew this was a holy time.  I finished with the bread and began with the chalice. One young boy said, "I forgot we got to do this part.  I'm not allowed to drink from that.  Can I have another one to dip?  I want that too."  My heart melted as I reached onto the altar and gave him another wafer.  He got it...

I'm calling this blog Holy Chaos, but I'll tell you I created the chaos not the children.  They were quiet and still (for the most part), but I hadn't planned on distributing to them all (I hadn't planned for there to be SOOO many--where did they all come from?).  Nonetheless, it was good and it was holy. Before the post communion prayer I made an announcement.  "For anyone new here today, I have to tell you it's not always this chaotic around the altar.  We don't always have the children up here, but...but I'm going to tell you--I believe what we all just witnessed was the Kingdom of God."

As I've been reflecting on this past Sunday, I've been thinking about all my formation that went into what I keep saying, "I don't know why I did it or why I did it the way I did; it just happened." I was being formed--unintentionally in many ways. Rob Banse all those years ago modeled what it meant to have children included in worship; Barbara Brown Taylor's words that I have read over and over--(not quoted exactly) "on the night before Jesus died he didn't tell the disciples what to believe, what to think about--no he told them what to do."  These messages have become part of my very being...

Formation happens--formation happens in all we do--intentionally and unintentionally, formally and informally.  Sometimes we get to see how it happens and sometimes it takes years, but it happens.  It sometimes takes risks; it sometimes takes adjustments, but it happens.  And we are all called to form and to be formed--we are ALL called.

You may be wondering what the people of Trinity thought--I'll leave it to say we're going to work out the kinks, but on the first Sunday of every month, you'll see the children gathered at the altar--their altar, our altar--the altar of the Kingdom of God.