Showing posts with label liturgy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label liturgy. Show all posts

31 March, 2015

How We Welcome; How We Worship--It Matters

For the first time in a decade I'm not involved in helping to lead liturgy during Holy Week.  It's an odd time and a weird sensation.  It has given me a lot of time to think--

Last Thursday two things happened that really have me thinking. First I read this blog, The Breadth of Traditional Worship.  The author of the blog Jonathan serves as the Director of Music for a United Methodist congregation in Texas.  I love reading him and his perspectives, some of which I agree with some I don't--all make me think.  I am so fortunate to have served with two of the finest musicians I have ever known--Mac Fogle and Eugene Lavery.  Not only are they incredible organist and director's of music, but they also have deep faith and are amazing liturgists (and they both happen to be very close personal friends).  I learn so much from them about music, worship and liturgy. Anyway,  I read this blog and then not two hours later I had a conversation.

The conversation went like this.  "______, didn't even have much of a faith.  Sometimes he didn't even go to church on Christmas and Easter.  Speaking of which--I'm glad I'm an usher on Easter. I'll already be there early and won't have to fight for a seat with all those people who only show up on Easter."  Truth is I didn't respond; I was kind of stunned.  Who are we to judge anyone's faith and don't we want our churches to be full; don't we want people to show up on Easter and any other time? I guess since I was speechless (something that doesn't often happen but that I'm learning is a good practice) I was actually treated to a monologue.

This week there will be a great many people attending church who aren't "regulars."  Will they be welcomed in our churches or more importantly will they feel they are welcome and even more importantly what will our worship say about what we believe--about our theology?  Jonathan writes, "Traditional worship is inclusive" and then goes onto to describe why.  (Seriously y'all read the blog; it's good.) He further writes, "Traditional worship is determined by our theology.  Everything we do in corporate worship should be dictated by what we believe about God and God's mighty acts in Jesus Christ."  (He is writing predominately about music so he continues, "Bluntly, music's job is to serve the liturgy and nothing else."  Yeah Eugene and Mac!)  EVERYTHING we do--break it down--it takes time, but it's so important.

Two great points that I'll try to separate although I think they are intrinsically connected.  First, do people feel welcome?  I truly believe we have to think about whether they feel welcome and not whether we consider ourselves welcoming communities.  Sometimes in an effort not to offend people, I know we do nothing.  I've heard people say, "What if I speak to someone as if they're a visitor and really I just don't know them and they've been members for a long time?"  So?  Chances are if you don't know them, they don't know you.  What a great time to meet one another.

Or, "what if I speak to someone and they are members but just don't come regularly; it just highlights they aren't here often." Here's the thing--if they are members who don't come regularly THEY KNOW THEY DON'T!!!!  You're not telling them something that's news to them, AND if no one speaks to them why would they come back?  "What if I embarrass them by speaking to them and they start apologizing for not being here more?"  How about try this, "I'm glad you're here when you are. Welcome back."  (Because wouldn't you rather them be a tad bit embarrassed than totally offended? Not speaking to them says, "We don't care if you're here."  Back to the monoluge--"plus when you're not here I get a better seat.")

"Some people like to be left alone to worship."  Yep, I've heard that too.  I am not saying interrogate someone or even give them your life history, just speak--introduce yourself--and if if that's too uncomfortable smile and wave, less than 30 seconds doesn't offend even the most introverted of introverts.

And finally, make sure they know what's going on--coffee hour, Easter egg hunts etc.  Don't assume they read the bulletin and when announcements are made just invite all--I personally like "All are invited to join us in the _____________ which is located ________________."  If we're really trying not to highlight who is a visitor, a lapsed attendee and a regular, then don't--just invite ALL.

Equally and possibly arguably more important is what our worship says about our theology.  We all have a theology and there are differences--differences between denominations and differences within denominations.  Our worship says something about our theology--not about our budget or our ability to hire the best musicians or to have the most impressive flowers but about what we believe about Jesus Christ.  All too often we as leaders in liturgy get so caught up in getting it right, in outdoing another congregation, or in wanting to stand apart from another congregation that we forget to sit back and ask the questions, "What does this say about who we are as a Christians, about what we believe?  What does this say about who we are as a congregation?"  I can guarantee that even though some of our regulars may take these things for granted, many of our lapsed members or guests don't.  (And that is not a slam on our regulars--I'm one of them--it's just easy to forget that every movement of liturgy can and does mean something. It's easy to allow the liturgy to be so soothing that we forget it is also supposed to challenge us--to shake us up--to get our attention.  If we don't deliberately pay attention to and give liturgy meaning, people will do it for us.)

An aside, when I was serving as an intern in a large parish I asked the rector, "Why does everyone place their hands on the altar when receiving Eucharist?"  He responded, "I have no idea but it's breaking my back; why don't you find out?"  So I did, and people thought it was the proper way, that it indicated humility, that it was penitential among other answers.  Most likely someone did it once and people over time followed suit. Meaning came from it--the rector was able to use it as a teaching moment in his next sermon. People certainly were more than welcome to continue the practice as their own personal piety (or comfort) but those who didn't now understood this was not a liturgical act required to receive.

How do we avoid this?  Here's a possible suggestion--have some lay congregants who do not serve on the altar on the worship committee to review services and ask the questions, "Why do we do this and not that?" It's a great time to teach as well as to hold ourselves accountable.  It's a great time for us to really think about what we are saying and doing and what we believe. Our guests, our non-regulars, they're paying attention; they may not know what we intend to mean, but they are probably asking the questions, and how they answer them may determine whether they come back.

It's hard work; it takes time; it takes extra effort, but I believe as liturgist as well as the priesthood of all believers we are all responsible for our collective message.  I understand this Holy Week I have a lot of time to think about this because I'm not having to put together numerous services; I'm not totally sleep deprived; I'm not completely frazzled (well not beyond what any mother of four teenagers plus an exchange student is). My hope, my prayer is that I can remember this, that this time this period of what I call my "fallow time" will help me to bear fruit in my next call.

In a priest's ordination the Bishop addresses the ordinand and says,
"As a priest, it will be your task to proclaim by word and deed 
the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to fashion your life in 
accordance with its precepts. You are to love and serve the 
people among whom you work, caring alike for young and 
old, strong and weak, rich and poor. You are to preach, to 
declare God's forgiveness to penitent sinners, to pronounce 
God's blessing, to share in the administration of Holy 
Baptism and in the celebration of the mysteries of Christ's 
Body and Blood, and to perform the other ministrations 
entrusted to you.

In all that you do, you are to nourish Christ's people from the 
riches of his grace, and strengthen them to glorify God in this 
life and in the life to come."

He also asks,

BishopWill you endeavor so to minister the Word of God
and the sacraments of the New Covenant, that the
reconciling love of Christ may be known and
received?
AnswerI will.

(BCP, 531-532)


To nourish Christ's people--I believe that means all people no exceptions--regulars, lapsed attendees, and guests.  The reconciling love of Christ is known in how we welcome and in how we worship.  The ordained made these vows; the ministry of all believers promised to seek and serve Christ in all--regulars, lapsed attendees and guests.  Dare I go so far and say even those who don't attend even on Christmas and Easter?  It matters.

29 March, 2015

Palm Sunday at Big Boy

I'd say this post is a confession except that Merriam-Webster defines confession as:

  1. a written or spoken statement in which you say that you have done something wrong or committed a crime 
  2. the act of telling people something that makes you embarrassed, ashamed, etc.
  3. the act of telling your sins to God or to a priest
I committed no crime; I perhaps should be embarrassed and there is a slight tinge of it but not enough for the full definition, I don't believe I committed a sin even though I am a priest.  But here it is, our family didn't go to church today--we had Palm Sunday at Big Boy.

Truth is, we planned to go to church.  But this morning when I got up and started waking the children, it wasn't going well.  Caroline really couldn't go because of the stimulation (concussion regulations), Boss has been working so hard and late and has to work again today--he was beat, and William, well he's just tired from long days of lacrosse and late nights studying.  Perhaps those aren't good reasons.  They are certainly not reasons I ever thought I would allow to be used in our home, but I did.  

Chris has been traveling non-stop; Boss has been working non-stop; and I'm leaving tomorrow to visit my sister and then my mother (where I am looking forward to going to Tenebrae and Maundy Thursday service) before being joined at the beach by Chris and only 2 of our children for Easter. (Boss is going to the beach with his girlfriend's family--developmentally appropriate but heartbreaking for a Mama; and Caroline is going to New York with a friend--again appropriate but sad.)  We haven't all been together as a family for weeks, and it won't happen again for weeks.  (Don't remind me SK wasn't here, I try to forget that and just live in Katherineland during these memories when all four children are around the table preferably in matching smocked jon-jon's and bishop dresses--instead we were all in sweatpants, sweat shirts and baseball caps.)

So we decided to go to Big Boy.  I will admit I pouted for a few minutes and said I wasn't going. Truth, yes I missed Palm Sunday.  I love the liturgy, and I love our community of faith.  I miss sitting with my family in the pew something we cannot often do anymore; we could have today.  But I also believe that while churches everywhere were re-enacting Jesus riding into Jerusalem, waving palms and chanting "Hosanna", Jesus was also present around our table at Big Boy.  This was one of those times spending time in relationship was more important than the "rule" of going to church.  Chris and I will spend many Palm Sundays over the next decades going to church, more Sundays than we will spend sitting around a breakfast table with our children sharing our lives, laughing and loving.

So, no, this isn't a confession.  This is just the truth of how we spent our day.  I suspect this will become one of those stories our family tells for years to come, probably every time we are getting ready for Palm Sunday services (and perhaps one our children will swear us to secrecy about so their children don't use it against them) "Remember that Palm Sunday Mama and Daddy let us skip church and just go to Big Boy?" We'll all smile remembering that day and the love around the table.