The Answer Was Always There--in the Music

"You don't really care about the music in worship, do you?"  It was a casual question-or maybe more of a comment--a rhetorical question.  The comment/question came right as a meeting was about to start, so I didn't have time to answer; frankly, I didn't know how to answer.  There was no judgement meant in the comment (at least I don't think so), but it rankled me.  

That question was two years ago, and I still think about it--a lot (I'd say I obsess about it, but I do have a life, fine, I admit it--I obsess--remember I have a therapist).  Why didn't I answer?  How would I answer? What did I really think about music in worship?  Several months ago I ran across a wonderful blog (Ponder Anew); I read it religiously (pun intended) hoping it would help me answer the question.  Honestly, I love it--I love the comments, I love reading how other people are wrestling, but it has not give me closure for the question....it hasn't given me an answer.

Last month during spring break, I drove over to see my dear friend Mac (or as our family calls him Mac-a-doodle--they're kinda crazy too!)  Mac and I worked together at St. Marks in Louisville for a number of years.  I was the intern/communications/pastoral care person, and he was the music director.  We have stayed close friends despite time and distance.

I was as excited as a middle school girl on her first day of school--I had so many questions to ask Mac and my other dear friend Gary.  They are wise and faithful, and most importantly they know me and yet they love me--the exact combination I needed.  After we had lunch and they imparted their wisdom (I had to resist the urge to ask if I could take notes--they know I'm crazy but that seemed over the top), Mac and I went for a walk through the city.

We went into the The Cathedral of St. John the Baptist where he is the music director.  He first introduced me to the lady who works in the kitchen--that is so Mac--friends with everyone.  She was amazing and I told her I was trying to steal him back.  "We'll fight over him," she laughed.  Next we went into the wedding coordinator's office.  "This is my best friend from Louisville," Mac said.  My heart burst--seriously back to the middle school girl--I'm thinking I'll sign everything to him BFF. (Truthfully, I needed that affirmation--needed to hear that I was loved and true or not that I was someone's favorite, that I mattered to someone--but that's another blog.)  "I'm going to go play some for her."  FOR ME!!!! (Did you hear that?  He was playing FOR ME!!!)

The cathedral is beautiful and a popular tourist attraction.  People were milling about as I followed Mac through the "Do not enter" signs; I was secretly feeling superior.  We went up into the choir loft and he began to play.  I admit my first thoughts were, "All you people get to hear this, but it's really FOR ME." I really am a middle school girl in a middle age body....

As Mac began to play, the tears began to fall, and I remembered.  Mac was new at St. Mark's.  We were in the middle of the Eucharistic prayer; I was standing at the altar next to the The Rev. Dr. Charles Hawkins (another amazing man) and I looked up.  Standing next to the organ was Mac, not sitting, but standing and quietly and inconspicuously participating.  His personal piety and mine seemed to be the same (over time I learned that we did indeed share a high Eucharistic theology--again another blog.)  In that moment I fell in love with Mac; I fell in love with his reverence and with his humility. I fell in love with a man who gave his gift to the church not to promote himself but as a prayer to God. In that moment, I began to fall in love with sacred music, because in that moment I understood...

Over the next few years I learned so much about sacred music from Mac.  He patiently explained to me how he chose different pieces and why certain anthems were appropriate for different seasons. There were many times that I was almost paralyzed during service as a piece washed over me and deepened my worship experience.  (I got to use those very pieces during my ordination.)  Mac chose service music to be a part of worship not to overtake worship--not to be a concert.  Make no mistake, it was concert worthy, but what I learned from Mac, what I loved and love about Mac is knowing that music during worship is his gift to the people. Mac didn't try to put himself in the spotlight; he let the music be the gift not himself.  He is humble, faithful and good.  What I learned from Mac was we all have different ministries.  Mac's ministry is music, mine is not.  It doesn't mean I don't care about the music it just means I leave it to those whose gift it is.  I have my gifts to offer worship, to offer ministry in the world and Mac has his.

As I sat there the tears falling, I realized I finally had the answer to the pseudo question/comment.  It wasn't about caring or not caring--that's what rankled me.  I absolutely cared about music in worship. I, in fact, have my preferences, but what I don't have is the need to, the desire to, the skill to, the gift to choose sacred music.  Music is not my ministry, and that's okay...

Thinking back on that day last month I realize Mac taught me or at least reminded me of more that day.  We each have a ministry that God has given us--for some of us it's being vested and serving on the altar during services, but for many other people it's in the world, in the ordinary every day world. No one's ministry is more important than another's,  and no one's ministry should be co-opted by another, controlled by another--rather it is by owning our own ministries and by working together, as the entire body of Christ, together and co creating with God that one day the Kingdom of God will truly reign.

I've spent the past couple of years trying to find the words to answer the question, but the answer, the answer was already there...the answer was in the music.

Thank you Mac-a-doodle; I love you.

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,

Bishop	Will 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?
Answer	I 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.