In this post, I examine what the people in my small parish identified as the third most important reason why they attend our church when they filled out a survey used in my parish's endeavor to find a new priest.
As some might think, "The Book of Common Prayer" is not the Anglican Communion's bible. It is, however, the Anglican way of worship, a way that has kept Anglicans (including Episcopalians) together in the midst of adversity and division because its commonality cuts across divisions, classes, and can accommodate diversity by skillfully bringing to bear on our common form of worship what I have been referring to in my posts as the Impulse of Religion - the cognitive realization that humans need each other in order to survive.
THE POWER OF THE PRAYER BOOK
Perhaps a good example of its being a tool of cohesiveness is the Episcopal Church in America. The Church of England (C of E) had a prominent presence throughout the original thirteen colonies, especially in colonies like Virginia. During the Revolutionary War, many priests abandoned their pulpits because in order to be ordained in the C of E, priests took an oath of loyalty to the crown. It is estimated that about forty percent of the C of E members in the colonies left the colonies at that time, along with a good number of priests, but not all. Some priests served as chaplains in either the British forces or the Continental Army.
The first bishop of what became the Episcopal Church, Samuel Seabury, began as a priest in the C of E and served as chaplain to the British Army. He was later consecrated a bishop in Scotland because there was no requirement in Scotland for swearing loyalty to the crown and returned to the newly formed United States as the first Episcopal bishop. Another ordained C of E priest who would be ordained bishop, William White, however, served as chaplain to the Continental Army and would be consecrated bishop by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the bishops of Bath and York in the late 1780's because the English Parliament had recently changed the law requiring bishops swearing loyalty to the crown. One cannot but think that the impetus for doing such a thing was due to the influence C of E wishing to maintain the continuity of what would eventually become the Anglican communion in 1867.
What is not often discussed is how the common people of this new nation, who identified with C of E before the war remained loyal to their way of worship without the benefit of priests. The answer is simply that they had the "Book of Common Prayer." Services such as Morning and Evening Prayer could be conducted without priests and became for a time the principal service conducted in the newly formed Protestant Episcopal Church. It was these services and the prayer book that largely kept the doors of these former C of E churches open and its people in the pews as Episcopalians.
It should not be a surprise to anyone; especially Episcopalians, that the members of my small Episcopal church listed the "Book of Common Prayer" as a major reason they attend our services. It is what has kept us threaded together in times of plenty and want, a consistent resource that embodies the hallmark of Anglicanism: Scripture, Reason , and Tradition.
In this sense, I can understand that when my small congregation filled out a search committee survey to help us develop our church's profile in the pursuit of finding a new rector for our parish individuals who wrote a good many comments in the margins never mentioned anything about the need for a priest but mentioned the importance our prayer book as a reason for being part of our parish.
I am not a "Cradle Episcopalian," but I grew up with its language and it's collects as a Lutheran and since becoming an Episcopalian have developed a deep appreciation and respect for "The Book of Common Prayer." When our family joined the Episcopal Church, I was not the organist as I am today. I sat with my family in the pews just like everyone else. When the priest who brought us into the church departed, I was impressed how the congregation didn't miss a beat in conducting services; mostly Morning Prayer. I found myself having to quickly become acquainted with it as I was asked to lead the service from time to time. This was unlike anything I experienced in other denominations. In such churches, the loss of its pastor resulted in a decrease in attendance, not so in this little parish. We experienced vacancies three times since we joined this church. Members kept coming even though we had no priest. They still do, though we are fewer in number.
At the time we joined, most of the member were either Cradle Episcopalians or where longtime members. Many of these individuals have passed on. Some have moved on. During this most recent vacancy we have the services of an Interim Priest. He is wonderful and many of us wish he could stay, but he can't. There is a sense of urgency during this vacancy, that we are on the verge of dying out as congregation and that we are at a crossroads of sorts. The question being, "Where do we go from here?"
BEING CONTENT
In listening and reading closely the survey the search committee sent out to our parishioners, one actually can discern a sense of contentment where we're at. We're content with the place we're at. We're content with those who we worship with, and we're content with our prayer book form of worship. What causes us a sense of panic is the notion that we need a priest. We panic because we can't afford to sustain the cost of having one and are under the impression that we can't be a congregation, a parish without one. Perhaps in a technical, canon law sense that is true, but in an actual, real sense it is, at the very least subject to question, and there is historical and biblical precedent to defend the position that a congregation, a parish, can be such without a priest at the helm.
I am admittedly an odd duck co-chairing a committee that is searching for a priest when I personally feel the need for one is becoming more of a hindrance than a help in keeping our congregation together and viable. I am probably alone in thinking so. I know our congregation needs leadership and I'm not personally opposed to having a priest. I'm just not seeing the need for one at this juncture because we have the essentials of a parish, a place to worship the God who loves us, the people to express this love of God to one another in common worship together, and the means of worship that has sustained this parish throughout its existence. A priest, like an organist, is a luxury in the 21st century; nice to have but not essential to being a congregation.
Before we had an interim priest, I suspected that I would be giving a number of homilies. My plan was to base these homilies on the prayers and parts of the liturgy found in "The Book of Common Prayer" as a way of connecting us to God and to each other in the commonality of our way of worship; a way of getting back to the basics. Some of these homilies are found in my posts under the title of "Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi." I believe prayer is the truest form of confessing what we believe and hold true in our hearts. "The Book of Common Prayer" is amazingly expansive in what its prayers; its collects, litanies, and other prayers address. They are in part, meditative commentaries on our lectionary (Bible readings), they are didactic in how we should view God, each other, and the world, and they are reflective of the personal experiences that all of us encounter throughout life. All of which is addressed to a loving God who is worshiped and glorified throughout the pages of what I consider an amazing work of literary art and spiritual guidance.
MAKING A PIE WITH WHAT'S ON HAND
What our prayer book also contains are rubric (rules) as to who says what and who does what and when (sort of similar to following a recipe on how to make a pie). This is where the idea of needing a priest comes to play within the prayer book itself. This reflects centuries of traditional understanding of how the worship should be conducted, but traditional understanding is not the same as the traditions themselves. The means of grace, as expressed in the liturgies of most mainline churches has been tightly controlled by most as the domain of ordained clergy; as a way of keeping order in the church.
In the emerging Post-Christian world we are now entering, it is becoming increasingly apparent that there is a need to change with changing times, including, an examination of how worship is conducted and how the 21st century liturgical church continues to maintain its traditional form of worship and functions. Our little parish has entered the territory of this changing world; as such, the models and dynamics of parish life must also adjust and change. As I continue this series of posts, I will focus and explore how a small, traditional liturgical church, such as the one I belong to, can go it alone and build from where it is.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
Friday, March 29, 2019
Thursday, March 21, 2019
THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE DEBATE - GUTTING THE CONSITUTION
Back in July 2018, I began a series of posts on democracy which ended with a discussion on the "Electoral College," a term not found in the Constitution. I am somewhat surprised to see what I wrote about back then emerge as a potential issue for political debate in the upcoming presidential election in 2020. In this post, I would ask that my readers revisit what I said in the posts on democracy which I posted last July. Click here, here, and here to take an excursion on how I understand democracy as defined by the United States Constitution to get up to speed with what I will be addressing in this post.
Pure democracy is like pure oxygen. It sounds good until one realises how combustible it is when exposed to the unreasoned flame of populist passion.
I am a registered Democrat, who supports many liberal and progressive ideas. In saying that, most could reasonably assume that I am in favor of eliminating or effectively gutting what has become known as the "Electoral College."
Let me be very clear: I am not in favor of doing any such thing!
It horrifies me that liberal politicians and some states are not only advocating doing so but are in the process of doing just that. The motive to do so is obvious; avoid the travesty that resulted in the last presidential election and is embodied in person of the current incumbent. The idea of ridding this nation of presidential electors has been a can kicked around the alleyway of the United States for some time. The problem is that any move to eliminate or further minimize the role of electors is nothing more than an ill-thought reaction to an election or elections gone wrong. The problem is not with the elector, but the way states have used them throughout this nation's history as political pieces to weigh a states' popular vote in presidential elections.
THE ELECTOR PROBLEM
How we elect the President of the United States is a concern; so too is the mindless way of treating electors as numerical pawns to weight a given state's popular vote in presidential elections. If states wished to remedy this problem, they would do well to de-politicize the role of electors by freeing them from the obligation to vote for a particular party's nominee should an elector consider it a bad idea for the nation. Unfortunately for the nation, the role of the elector has never been given a meaningful role or purpose apart from providing political gravitas to a state during a presidential election year.
GUTTING THE CONSTITUTION
The Second Article of the U.S. Constitutions, in identifying electors as the means to elect the President is deficient in defining the role of electors, as I have mentioned in past posts. The lack of constitutional definition needs to remedied by amendment of the role via state legislative action, not by circumventing or exploiting the role as exhibited by current liberal leaning states to use its electors as counting pegs to do the bidding of the popular, national majority. Such an attempt accomplishes nothing more than to gut the Constitution by rendering much of the Second Article useless and setting a precedent for states to further circumvent and dismantle the distilling process of democracy and the rule of law that is the beating heart of the U.S. Constitution.
To put it bluntly, the U.S. Constitution exists, in large part, to protect the Republic of the United States of America against the tyranny of democracy via a populist insurgency that can arise within the nation's electorate. We've had a taste of that type of insurgency in our most recent presidential election precisely because the role of the electors is so poorly defined in the Constitution. Considering that a hostile foreign entity was able to manipulate a section of the electorate in the most recent presidential election to the extent that state electors were used to elect a president that favors such an entity should give the nation pause to think about the role of electors. The answer, however, should not be a quick fix by consigning the role of the elector as being some sort of constitutional oddity.
Consider the possibility and the probable likelihood of an effort to undermine an election, as has been done by a hostile entity (i.e. Russia) through social media, being applied on a much larger scale; let's say in a variety of populated areas throughout the nation. Eliminating electors or neutering their role does not eliminate the problem of a hostile entity's interference. It will merely result in that entity casting a wider web and shifting the direction of such efforts to a broader and perhaps diverse population. Treating the role of electors as the problem is taking away the one constitutional means of remedying the cancer of enraged populism via the use of propagating false and misleading information via social media to a vast majority of the populace.
A TEMPERATE BARRIER
As mentioned in my previous posts on democracy, it is my belief that the role of the elector was meant to create a temperate barrier against populist sentiment that is often focused on narrow minded, self-serving political interests posed as threats to various demographic groups within the nation's electorate. The unfortunate reality in this country is that voters are more likely to pay attention to a message that appeals to their fears rather than their hopes and aspirations.
I believe the role of the elector was intended to be as apolitical as humanly possible; that is, above the fray of the mash and sludge of a common political sentiment found in the initial stages of the democratic process that ultimately results in selecting a President and Vice President. I see the role of the elector as using factual information, a keen understanding of the Constitution, and a stringent vetting process in determining the persons who are best fit to hold the highest singular offices in the land; that of the President and Vice President of the United States.
FIXING THE PROBLEM
Through constitutional amendment and definition, electors should be required to forfeit any ties to political parties, should not be involved in running any state or federal agency, should not hold or have held any state or federal office for a designated period of time, and should not have been a lobbyist or directly connected to any business the utilizes lobbyists. The Elector's sacred duty to this nation should solely be that of choosing the President and Vice President of the United States from amongst the nominees who have risen to a percentage level of popular votes that merits consideration by a true Electoral College.
In other words, the popular vote would be instrumental only to the extent of elevating candidates to the level of a nominee worthy of consideration by the Electoral College. Once the decision as to which nominees merit the College's consideration is made, the decision who should hold these offices would be turned over to the electors. It's a tall order, but the fact that the role of the elector is being brought to the surface of political debate requires that before gutting the Constitution, we take a long hard look at what it contains and, in particular, why it includes the role of electors in choosing who should occupy the highest offices in the land.
SWINGING THE PENDULEM
The "Electoral College" debate as it is currently emerging is a good thing, however, roles identified in the Constitution; particularly, those related to the branches of government should not be reduced or eliminated by a reactionary moment or a reactionary movement to elections perceived as "gone wrong." Our republic works best when the pendulum of government swings rhythmically at a steady beat that is neither too far left nor too far right. Democrats would do well to avoid attempting to swing the pendulum too far left as a means to correct or compensate for it having swung too far right in the last presidential election. The mid-term election has given the legislative pendulum some balance and though we are far from enjoying a truly bi-partisan effort in calming things down and getting back on track in the performance of their Constitutional duties, there are signs of recovery at work.
Presidential politics must change. Using the "Eliminating the Electoral College" mantra to stir popular/populist sentiment is wrong and wrong-headed. Above all, choosing the President must not become a popularity contest. True campaign reform is written into the Constitution already; particularly, with regard to presidential elections as hinted at in the role of the elector. Defining the use of electors as independent guardians of the Constitution to ensure that whoever holds this powerful office is right for the job is greatly needed.
I firmly believe that this is what the framers of the Constitution had in mind when they created this role. As mentioned in other posts, I also believe that it was left undefined because they lacked the political clout at the time to bring it to the level I have described in this post in order to ensure the Constitution's ratification by the original thirteen states. Instead of trying to use electors to weight the nation's popular vote in Presidential elections, states should define the role of its electors (as allowed by the Constitution) to be independent and free to deliberate who best would serve this nation as its chief executive in the cause of preserving our Republic by protecting and defending the Constitution of the United States.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
Pure democracy is like pure oxygen. It sounds good until one realises how combustible it is when exposed to the unreasoned flame of populist passion.
I am a registered Democrat, who supports many liberal and progressive ideas. In saying that, most could reasonably assume that I am in favor of eliminating or effectively gutting what has become known as the "Electoral College."
Let me be very clear: I am not in favor of doing any such thing!
It horrifies me that liberal politicians and some states are not only advocating doing so but are in the process of doing just that. The motive to do so is obvious; avoid the travesty that resulted in the last presidential election and is embodied in person of the current incumbent. The idea of ridding this nation of presidential electors has been a can kicked around the alleyway of the United States for some time. The problem is that any move to eliminate or further minimize the role of electors is nothing more than an ill-thought reaction to an election or elections gone wrong. The problem is not with the elector, but the way states have used them throughout this nation's history as political pieces to weigh a states' popular vote in presidential elections.
THE ELECTOR PROBLEM
How we elect the President of the United States is a concern; so too is the mindless way of treating electors as numerical pawns to weight a given state's popular vote in presidential elections. If states wished to remedy this problem, they would do well to de-politicize the role of electors by freeing them from the obligation to vote for a particular party's nominee should an elector consider it a bad idea for the nation. Unfortunately for the nation, the role of the elector has never been given a meaningful role or purpose apart from providing political gravitas to a state during a presidential election year.
GUTTING THE CONSTITUTION
The Second Article of the U.S. Constitutions, in identifying electors as the means to elect the President is deficient in defining the role of electors, as I have mentioned in past posts. The lack of constitutional definition needs to remedied by amendment of the role via state legislative action, not by circumventing or exploiting the role as exhibited by current liberal leaning states to use its electors as counting pegs to do the bidding of the popular, national majority. Such an attempt accomplishes nothing more than to gut the Constitution by rendering much of the Second Article useless and setting a precedent for states to further circumvent and dismantle the distilling process of democracy and the rule of law that is the beating heart of the U.S. Constitution.
To put it bluntly, the U.S. Constitution exists, in large part, to protect the Republic of the United States of America against the tyranny of democracy via a populist insurgency that can arise within the nation's electorate. We've had a taste of that type of insurgency in our most recent presidential election precisely because the role of the electors is so poorly defined in the Constitution. Considering that a hostile foreign entity was able to manipulate a section of the electorate in the most recent presidential election to the extent that state electors were used to elect a president that favors such an entity should give the nation pause to think about the role of electors. The answer, however, should not be a quick fix by consigning the role of the elector as being some sort of constitutional oddity.
Consider the possibility and the probable likelihood of an effort to undermine an election, as has been done by a hostile entity (i.e. Russia) through social media, being applied on a much larger scale; let's say in a variety of populated areas throughout the nation. Eliminating electors or neutering their role does not eliminate the problem of a hostile entity's interference. It will merely result in that entity casting a wider web and shifting the direction of such efforts to a broader and perhaps diverse population. Treating the role of electors as the problem is taking away the one constitutional means of remedying the cancer of enraged populism via the use of propagating false and misleading information via social media to a vast majority of the populace.
A TEMPERATE BARRIER
As mentioned in my previous posts on democracy, it is my belief that the role of the elector was meant to create a temperate barrier against populist sentiment that is often focused on narrow minded, self-serving political interests posed as threats to various demographic groups within the nation's electorate. The unfortunate reality in this country is that voters are more likely to pay attention to a message that appeals to their fears rather than their hopes and aspirations.
I believe the role of the elector was intended to be as apolitical as humanly possible; that is, above the fray of the mash and sludge of a common political sentiment found in the initial stages of the democratic process that ultimately results in selecting a President and Vice President. I see the role of the elector as using factual information, a keen understanding of the Constitution, and a stringent vetting process in determining the persons who are best fit to hold the highest singular offices in the land; that of the President and Vice President of the United States.
FIXING THE PROBLEM
Through constitutional amendment and definition, electors should be required to forfeit any ties to political parties, should not be involved in running any state or federal agency, should not hold or have held any state or federal office for a designated period of time, and should not have been a lobbyist or directly connected to any business the utilizes lobbyists. The Elector's sacred duty to this nation should solely be that of choosing the President and Vice President of the United States from amongst the nominees who have risen to a percentage level of popular votes that merits consideration by a true Electoral College.
In other words, the popular vote would be instrumental only to the extent of elevating candidates to the level of a nominee worthy of consideration by the Electoral College. Once the decision as to which nominees merit the College's consideration is made, the decision who should hold these offices would be turned over to the electors. It's a tall order, but the fact that the role of the elector is being brought to the surface of political debate requires that before gutting the Constitution, we take a long hard look at what it contains and, in particular, why it includes the role of electors in choosing who should occupy the highest offices in the land.
SWINGING THE PENDULEM
The "Electoral College" debate as it is currently emerging is a good thing, however, roles identified in the Constitution; particularly, those related to the branches of government should not be reduced or eliminated by a reactionary moment or a reactionary movement to elections perceived as "gone wrong." Our republic works best when the pendulum of government swings rhythmically at a steady beat that is neither too far left nor too far right. Democrats would do well to avoid attempting to swing the pendulum too far left as a means to correct or compensate for it having swung too far right in the last presidential election. The mid-term election has given the legislative pendulum some balance and though we are far from enjoying a truly bi-partisan effort in calming things down and getting back on track in the performance of their Constitutional duties, there are signs of recovery at work.
Presidential politics must change. Using the "Eliminating the Electoral College" mantra to stir popular/populist sentiment is wrong and wrong-headed. Above all, choosing the President must not become a popularity contest. True campaign reform is written into the Constitution already; particularly, with regard to presidential elections as hinted at in the role of the elector. Defining the use of electors as independent guardians of the Constitution to ensure that whoever holds this powerful office is right for the job is greatly needed.
I firmly believe that this is what the framers of the Constitution had in mind when they created this role. As mentioned in other posts, I also believe that it was left undefined because they lacked the political clout at the time to bring it to the level I have described in this post in order to ensure the Constitution's ratification by the original thirteen states. Instead of trying to use electors to weight the nation's popular vote in Presidential elections, states should define the role of its electors (as allowed by the Constitution) to be independent and free to deliberate who best would serve this nation as its chief executive in the cause of preserving our Republic by protecting and defending the Constitution of the United States.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
Monday, March 18, 2019
THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - THE PEOPLE IN THE PEWS
This post is a continuation of the post on the three main reasons my congregation identified as a reason most people in my congregation attend my church. In this post, I examine the second most cited reason, the people in the pews.
BECOMING A FAMILY
Small congregations are like families in many ways. Like the members of one's family, members of the congregation don't get to choose who walks through the door and takes a seat at the metaphorical table; at least not technically speaking. Unlike families, people who take a seat and stay are not necessarily well known to each other apart from showing up during worship services. This is true in my small parish where average attendance hovers around 35 people.
Apart from our Sunday services, most of us don't associate outside the church's walls. I feel I know three or four families fairly well; been to the the home of a couple for social visits, but beyond that, my relationship with our congregation is largely confined to being their organist and occasional preacher on Sundays. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm not complaining. I'm merely differentiating between the type of family relationships I'm talking about.
What leads me to compare small congregations to families is the fact we don't have to be social friends who are into each other's business, but rather that we have a family-like commitment to each other, to be there when needed and to get together on occasion to enjoy each other's company in the comfort of our common spiritual home, our church. Our common form of worship is the tie that binds. Being a small congregation has actually allowed us to become more family-like.
COUNTRY CLUB MEMBERS ONLY
Ours was never a large congregation during the time my family joined this parish, but it wasn't family-like either when we joined. Average Sunday attendance would have been more around the 50 to 60 range at the time. The congregation had more of a social club or country club feel to it back then. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, local and state politicians, and established businessmen were prominent. They and their families socialized together beyond the church's walls, belonging to the same Masonic lodge, other service organizations, and the country club. In that sense there existed a less familial feel to the congregation. What existed at the time was a palpable sense of social stratification in the pews, with some in the higher tier literally claiming territorial rights to "their pew."
In the lower tier were people like my family; lower middle class, and some falling into the poverty level. This is not an uncommon phenomenon in Episcopal churches nationwide. This sense of marked social stratification in a congregation was a hallmark of Episcopalian churches up to the last decade of the twentieth century, but that is changing rapidly and is dramatically being played out in my parish's small congregation. Emblematic of this switch is the fact that when our church was built in 1882, it had a bell tower that never had a bell in it. It looked like a church, but it didn't sound like one. It looked inviting on the outside, but there was no call to come inside.
People who lived in my community their entire life expressed not knowing this church existed when I told them I was a member of it. Then in the early 2000's a member donated a digital clarion with a full battery of digitally sampled, free swinging bells. Interestingly, it was around that time, the social dynamics of our congregation began to shift.
I'm not suggesting that the bells made the difference. That was merely a coincidence, but around that time the sense of social stratification began to dissolve, as prominent members whose children had long ago moved away began dying off or stayed away when it became clear that things were changing, because the priest at the time began inviting new people in who weren't bankers, attorneys, or prominent businessman belonging to the same social clubs. He was bringing in people with less money, who truly worked for a living and weren't cradle Episcopalian and knew nothing about the Episcopal Church before they joined.
The church was no longer the country club it once was. When the doors of our church became noticeably open and the bells said we are here to the community, the first thing to happen was an exodus by those who liked their private and privileged pews preserved and finding them no longer reserved. In addition, some found their traditional sensibilities being affronted by a priest who employed unconventional ways of getting newcomers outside their social sphere to check us out that made leaving a more palatable choice.
REGAINING THE IMPULSE OF RELIGION
Of course, not all of those I referred to in the past as the "Old Guard" left. A few stayed, but in doing so they changed or appear to have changed; perhaps, because the environment is different from the time my wife and I joined. Social stratification is a thing of the past. As a congregation, we are more down to earth, coping with the reality of life as it is for most people. The religious impulse, "We need each other" that is the hallmark and motivation for humans to be religious, has been reestablished in our dwindling congregation, and that is a precious gift amidst all the gloom and doom predictions about having to close our doors and so on if we don't come up with enough financial support to merit our existence.
This religious impulse was expressed both pragmatically and sentimentally in our congregation's search survey at the beginning of its search process for a new priest. Pragmatically, it was expressed as a reality; that in order to exist as a church we needed more people so that we could afford being a church. Sentimentally, it was expressed in the description of our congregation as being friendly, open-minded, welcoming, a safe place, and inclusive. All of which is currently true in marked contrast to one status conscious member who, when my wife and I joined informed us "The Episcopal Church is not for everyone" - an attitude of a bygone era that symbolically departed when that member left our church.
There is a reason why researchers, studying congregational demographics refer to the size of our congregation as a family-sized church because at the level we are at we can act and function more like a family in a positive sense of the word. We know we have to rely on each other to make things work. We know we need each other and that every member is important to keeping our congregation alive and well, even though, by the same studies our church also falls under the category of a church on "life-support" which I will get to in another post.
For the moment, however, I feel confident that our small congregation will survive; that by God's grace and good favor it will be able to keep the old roof of our church over our heads, and we will continue to pray and worship our good and gracious God as we have done within the liminal space surrounded by its aging walls for over 130 years.
COME AND STAY
Smallness has its advantages as well as its disadvantages. The advantages often are overlooked because of those things we call practical concerns, money, carrying on as we always have, and the like. Being small literally give us the ability to reach out to everyone in the pews.
During the peace, our small congregation rises and people literally get out of their pews and greet everyone who can't. It's, at best, orchestrated mayhem for several minutes, but one can tell that it is a highpoint of our worship services. It truly demonstrates the family nature of our congregation, handshakes, hugs, and an occasional kiss on the cheek to people we see every week - love at work in worship.
Love at work was something that wasn't immediately apparent when my wife and I first joined; although the reason we joined was some good people literally whispering to us, "Come" or "Stay" from the pew behind us or as we walked out the door. Simple, loving words said in a whisper by a few - an inviting spirit that has grown even though our numbers have diminished. "Come" and "Stay" are no longer terms whispered, but are openly and blatantly said to anyone who enters our church's doors.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
BECOMING A FAMILY
Small congregations are like families in many ways. Like the members of one's family, members of the congregation don't get to choose who walks through the door and takes a seat at the metaphorical table; at least not technically speaking. Unlike families, people who take a seat and stay are not necessarily well known to each other apart from showing up during worship services. This is true in my small parish where average attendance hovers around 35 people.
Apart from our Sunday services, most of us don't associate outside the church's walls. I feel I know three or four families fairly well; been to the the home of a couple for social visits, but beyond that, my relationship with our congregation is largely confined to being their organist and occasional preacher on Sundays. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm not complaining. I'm merely differentiating between the type of family relationships I'm talking about.
What leads me to compare small congregations to families is the fact we don't have to be social friends who are into each other's business, but rather that we have a family-like commitment to each other, to be there when needed and to get together on occasion to enjoy each other's company in the comfort of our common spiritual home, our church. Our common form of worship is the tie that binds. Being a small congregation has actually allowed us to become more family-like.
COUNTRY CLUB MEMBERS ONLY
Ours was never a large congregation during the time my family joined this parish, but it wasn't family-like either when we joined. Average Sunday attendance would have been more around the 50 to 60 range at the time. The congregation had more of a social club or country club feel to it back then. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, local and state politicians, and established businessmen were prominent. They and their families socialized together beyond the church's walls, belonging to the same Masonic lodge, other service organizations, and the country club. In that sense there existed a less familial feel to the congregation. What existed at the time was a palpable sense of social stratification in the pews, with some in the higher tier literally claiming territorial rights to "their pew."
In the lower tier were people like my family; lower middle class, and some falling into the poverty level. This is not an uncommon phenomenon in Episcopal churches nationwide. This sense of marked social stratification in a congregation was a hallmark of Episcopalian churches up to the last decade of the twentieth century, but that is changing rapidly and is dramatically being played out in my parish's small congregation. Emblematic of this switch is the fact that when our church was built in 1882, it had a bell tower that never had a bell in it. It looked like a church, but it didn't sound like one. It looked inviting on the outside, but there was no call to come inside.
People who lived in my community their entire life expressed not knowing this church existed when I told them I was a member of it. Then in the early 2000's a member donated a digital clarion with a full battery of digitally sampled, free swinging bells. Interestingly, it was around that time, the social dynamics of our congregation began to shift.
I'm not suggesting that the bells made the difference. That was merely a coincidence, but around that time the sense of social stratification began to dissolve, as prominent members whose children had long ago moved away began dying off or stayed away when it became clear that things were changing, because the priest at the time began inviting new people in who weren't bankers, attorneys, or prominent businessman belonging to the same social clubs. He was bringing in people with less money, who truly worked for a living and weren't cradle Episcopalian and knew nothing about the Episcopal Church before they joined.
The church was no longer the country club it once was. When the doors of our church became noticeably open and the bells said we are here to the community, the first thing to happen was an exodus by those who liked their private and privileged pews preserved and finding them no longer reserved. In addition, some found their traditional sensibilities being affronted by a priest who employed unconventional ways of getting newcomers outside their social sphere to check us out that made leaving a more palatable choice.
REGAINING THE IMPULSE OF RELIGION
Of course, not all of those I referred to in the past as the "Old Guard" left. A few stayed, but in doing so they changed or appear to have changed; perhaps, because the environment is different from the time my wife and I joined. Social stratification is a thing of the past. As a congregation, we are more down to earth, coping with the reality of life as it is for most people. The religious impulse, "We need each other" that is the hallmark and motivation for humans to be religious, has been reestablished in our dwindling congregation, and that is a precious gift amidst all the gloom and doom predictions about having to close our doors and so on if we don't come up with enough financial support to merit our existence.
This religious impulse was expressed both pragmatically and sentimentally in our congregation's search survey at the beginning of its search process for a new priest. Pragmatically, it was expressed as a reality; that in order to exist as a church we needed more people so that we could afford being a church. Sentimentally, it was expressed in the description of our congregation as being friendly, open-minded, welcoming, a safe place, and inclusive. All of which is currently true in marked contrast to one status conscious member who, when my wife and I joined informed us "The Episcopal Church is not for everyone" - an attitude of a bygone era that symbolically departed when that member left our church.
There is a reason why researchers, studying congregational demographics refer to the size of our congregation as a family-sized church because at the level we are at we can act and function more like a family in a positive sense of the word. We know we have to rely on each other to make things work. We know we need each other and that every member is important to keeping our congregation alive and well, even though, by the same studies our church also falls under the category of a church on "life-support" which I will get to in another post.
For the moment, however, I feel confident that our small congregation will survive; that by God's grace and good favor it will be able to keep the old roof of our church over our heads, and we will continue to pray and worship our good and gracious God as we have done within the liminal space surrounded by its aging walls for over 130 years.
COME AND STAY
Smallness has its advantages as well as its disadvantages. The advantages often are overlooked because of those things we call practical concerns, money, carrying on as we always have, and the like. Being small literally give us the ability to reach out to everyone in the pews.
During the peace, our small congregation rises and people literally get out of their pews and greet everyone who can't. It's, at best, orchestrated mayhem for several minutes, but one can tell that it is a highpoint of our worship services. It truly demonstrates the family nature of our congregation, handshakes, hugs, and an occasional kiss on the cheek to people we see every week - love at work in worship.
Love at work was something that wasn't immediately apparent when my wife and I first joined; although the reason we joined was some good people literally whispering to us, "Come" or "Stay" from the pew behind us or as we walked out the door. Simple, loving words said in a whisper by a few - an inviting spirit that has grown even though our numbers have diminished. "Come" and "Stay" are no longer terms whispered, but are openly and blatantly said to anyone who enters our church's doors.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
Sunday, March 10, 2019
HERE'S THE MAN - A Homily
This homily was delivered by this blogger at Christ Episcopal Church, Yankton, South Dakota on March 10, 2019. The Gospel reading this post refers to is the Temptation of Jesus as found in Luke 4:1-13
“It is said, ‘Do
not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
Luke 4:13
On this first Sunday in Lent, we pick up where we
left off on the first Sunday after Epiphany; with Jesus being driven into the
wilderness by the Holy Spirit after emerging from John the Baptizer’s water of
repentance and hearing himself declared to be God’s Son in whom God is
well-pleased.
To help us understand today’s Gospel reading, I want
to page ahead and start with how this Lenten story, this journey into the
spring of new life ends. Specifically, I
want to begin with something Pilate said at Jesus’s trial as found in the
Gospel of John.
Pilate, pointing to Jesus after having him scourged;
his flesh torn, his body oozing blood and sweat said, in the common language of
Greek to the crowd demanding Jesus’s crucifixion, “ίδου ό άνθρωποσ,” “Here’s
the man,” or to be contextually precise, “Pay attention to this man;”[1]Pilates
way of saying, “Take a good look at him because this horrific spectacle
standing before you could be you,” which in the Gospel of John becomes the
gospel writer’s nuanced way of saying, “This man is you.”
It is so easy to push aside the fact that during his
earthly ministry this flesh and blood Jesus was exactly like us, in every sense
of the word – A FACT that has been sadly drummed out of us by roughly two thousand years of theology
and bickering over how to define Jesus as being both True God and True Man with
the result that the God part of that equation ended up getting most of the
attention; getting center stage. Even
the New Testament and the Gospels demonstrate the difficulty of putting into
words how this “just-like-us” man is just like us in the light of the
resurrection.
For example, when we come to the Fourth Sunday in
Lent, we will hear Paul say in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “For our sake
he (God) made him (Jesus) to be sin who knew no sin….”[2] When we hear those word, our minds immediately
embrace the upfront, literal meaning of those word; that Jesus never sinned –
never made a mistake – was sinless, and, in
that respect Jesus of Nazareth was so unlike us, was so un-human because if
anything defines us as humans, it seems to be our flaws more than our virtues.
We need to remember, however, the importance of
historical criticism when reading scripture; that the authors of the New
Testament had particular theological points they were trying to make and
explain in what they wrote and how they wrote it. In addition, we need to remember that Paul
never knew the flesh and blood Jesus of Nazareth. He only knew Jesus as the Risen Christ of God,
which occurred in a vision on his way to Damascus.
Paul would agree, however, that we cannot understand
our connection to the surprising, earth shattering, re-creating big bang event,
we celebrate as Easter unless we can come to grips with the notion that Jesus
is one of us; that in essence, Jesus is
us.
For the moment, let us reflect on our being human in
the light of Jesus being human, as his being truly one of us; as his being
truly one with us. Permit yourself to
imagine, if you will, Jesus before his death and resurrection as having the
same flawed thought processes that we all encounter, moments of egotism,
lustful desires, of falling into temptation, of having doubts, of making mistakes
in judgement, of being lazy, depressed, of being selfish, of sinning; the things
that most religions associate with being human.
After all, “To err is human…
Jesus clearly understood sin from personal
experience. For instance, as a twelve
year old Jesus runs away from Mary and Joseph to teach in the Temple without
telling Mary and Joseph that he was doing so.[3]
Think about that for a moment. I wonder
what Mary and Joseph thought about that after frantically searching for Jesus
for several days or what they said to him when they found him. The Gospel of Luke gives us a hint. Luke tells after that fiasco, Jesus was “obedient”
to Mary and Joseph. What does “obedient”
imply in this context? Which of the Ten
Commandments is Luke implying Jesus violated?
Throughout his ministry, Jesus was seen as doing
those things I asked you to imagine by the people of his day, including his
disciples; that at the time, they did not consider Jesus to be some flawless
perfect human because there were times he acted all too human. Of course, all these instances of
questionable (human) behavior on Jesus’s part get explained away as means
towards facilitating a righteous end or a deeper purpose that is redacted and
understood in the light of Jesus’s resurrection.[4]
Paul was right, however, in saying Jesus of Nazareth
did not know and did not treat sin in the way that most of us have been taught
to understand and treat it. Jesus did
not know sin to be a barrier between God and humankind, between God and
himself, or as a barrier between himself and his fellow human beings that we
have made it and keep making it out to be.
Jesus understood through the prophets Isaiah and
Jeremiah that God really didn’t give a hoot about our obsession with sin, was
tired with our inane, placating ways; that God said centuries before Jesus
entered the world stage, “For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will
remember their sin no more.”[5]
Jesus’s actions towards others demonstrated his faith in this being God’s
stance on the subject of sin and that God would remain faithful to that stance.
Jesus clearly knew the effect of sin because, like
us, he experienced it. We should not be
surprised by that notion, shocked by it, or offended by it because he clearly
describes the experience of personal sin and the remorse it causes in his most poignant
parable, the Prodigal Son, a corollary to his own experience of running off as
a twelve year old son to do his own thing.[6]
Only a person who experienced sin first-hand, experienced its effects,
experienced the remorse it caused, and experienced the unquestioning
forgiveness and the unconditional love of God could speak about it with such
personal clarity as this man Jesus does in that parable.
Like the father in that story, Jesus never allowed
sin to be a barrier between him and those who came to him. He broke right through it, forgave it before
the thought of asking for forgiveness ever crossed anyone’s mind, and he
virtually came running to the sinner, like the
father in that parable. His
blanket, unconditional bestowal of forgiveness without question on everyone he
ran across was seen as an act of blasphemy worthy of death by the religious
leaders of his day and ultimately, it would serve to condemn him.
This
man – this Jesus forgave and forgave and forgave as a human – as one of us –
until forgiveness became his last pronouncement on the humans who crucified
him.
It is important to understand that fact; that truth,
if one it to understand anything about Christianity. Yes,
to err is human and to forgive is to be truly human.
It is in the moment of his dying breath that Jesus
affirmed his faith in the Father of us all, and it is in that dying moment that
Jesus fully lived into being the Son
that pleased God at his baptism in the Jordan.
It is in that moment that Jesus became the seed of a new creation that
burst to life on Easter morning as the Christ, the reset point of what it truly
means to be a human made in the image of God.
With that said, we can return to the importance of today’s Gospel
reading.
To help contextualize what was at play when the man
Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, I would like to paraphrase another
familiar temptation story found in the Bible:
The
serpent said to Eve, “Did God say, “You shall not eat of any tree of the
garden?” Eve said, “God told us, ‘You
shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the middle of the garden,
neither touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said, “You will not die. God knows that when you eat of it your eyes
will be opened, and you will be like God.”
So Eve ate; and gave some to Adam and he ate.”[7]
The temptation of Jesus, like the temptation of Eve,
was to get both to test God’s word; in essence, to test God. The difference is that Eve, the “mother of
all living things” gave into the temptation, but her seed, Jesus, didn’t. The temptation of Eve resulted in the garden
scene becoming paradise lost and the temptation of Jesus resulted in the wilderness
scene, the cursed land of the first son of God, Adam, becoming the staging
ground for paradise regained.[8]
Jesus remained faithful to God’s word; taking
seriously the admonishment found in the Book of Deuteronomy, “Do not put the
Lord, your God to the test.”[9]
Testing God is the foundation upon which sin is
defined, and, in that respect Jesus did not sin.
In quoting Deuteronomy, Jesus declared that he would
not be swayed by the desire to become like God on the face of this earth, as
Eve was tempted to do, like so many are tempted to do and continue to be
tempted to do. In that moment, Jesus
chose to be a man; a son of Eve and a son of God. In doing so, Jesus affirmed not only for
himself but for us also that being created in God’s image and living into that image is sufficient.
This Jesus of Nazareth offers us no out to avoid
being just like him in every way, because this flesh and blood Son of Man,[10] this
Jesus of Nazareth shows us what a true human looks like and that the realm of
God expressed in and through his humanity is within our reach, if only, like
Jesus, we would let God be God and be the people God intended us to be and
redeemed us to be. As such, we would do
well to heed Pilate’s advice and pay attention to this man – this Jesus.
Amen.
* * * * * * * * * *
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
[1]
John 19:5
[2]
2Corinthians 5:21
[3] Luke
2:41-51
[4]
For example, see Mark 7:24-30; John 11: 1-44(pay attention to verses 4 &5
with 4 explaining 5); Mark 14;3 and John
12:3
[5] See
Isaiah 33:24 and Jeremiah 31:34
[6]
See Luke 15:17-32
[7]
See Genesis 3
[8]
See Luke 3:38
[9]
Deuteronomy 6:16
[10] The
term “Son of Man” when used by Jesus is in keeping with the way the prophet
Ezekiel used it to define himself; simply meaning, I am human.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - THE LIMINALITY OF PLACE
In my previous post, I talked about the members of my parish most referenced reason for being a member as the place where we worship, the people we worship with, and the prayer book we use to worship. In the next three posts, I will address the value of these in connecting us to Body of Christ.
HOLY GROUND
All religions have their places of worship or places of significance. The importance of an identified place of worship is often downplayed in American Christian culture; especially, in North American Christian culture. After all, the psalmist reminds us, "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. " (Ps. 24:1) In other words, from the perspective of God, all creation is sacred turf.
Added to this, is a strong Protestant ethic that tended to take a dim of view signs and symbols and ritual as a somewhat heathen distraction. In this sense, place is no more liminal than then kneeling beside one's bed to say one's bedtime prayers which, in my opinion, qualifies. Still, over time, place becomes important, even though the thought of it being a liminal environment never crosses one's mind.
Humans, on the other hand, tend to mark those places where encounters with the divine occur as their sacred turf. In the Book of Genesis, Noah, Abraham, and Jacob build altars to God at the places they encountered God. There is not only a sense of sacredness associated with these places but a sense of the sacramental, as sacrifices or ritual in one form or another were performed in order to connect the mundane with the divine.
Many European churches and cathedrals occupy places that have been held sacred long before Christianity. These sacred places were considered so because they were places of encounter with the "other," the holy. In Celtic tradition, such places were considered thresholds between this world and the world of gods and other mystical beings.
Many of these places have fallen into ruin, but they still retain their liminality and some remain places of pilgrimage. Although held in reverence by some as active portals to the other, they are referenced by others as a place of collective memory. In the United States, the church edifice that has been around for some time can be seen as a place of collective memory.
MY CHURCH
My parish church is such a place. It's historical and very connected to my state's history. Governors, legislators of various kinds, a university president, etc. have all been members of this parish. It's neo-gothic, cruciform, and traditional Anglican architecture transports one immediately to a different place: Narthex, Nave, Transept, Rood Screen, Chancel, and Sanctuary, are of a different time and different place, but the materials that built this church are largely local, a stone foundation, bricks made at a local quarry, timber brought in, but fashioned by a local wood craftsman. The environment is dark wood and stained pine. If swallows have not nested their young here, bats have made it their home since as long as anyone can remember. They're not all that intrusive, but do make an occasional fly through to let us know their still hanging around.
It is a warm place, there is an eclectic array of stain glass windows that are unique to this particular structure. There is no thematic scheme to them. They reflect their patron's preference. We have a Masonic window that reflects the fact that our first priest established the Masonic Order of the Scottish Rite in our state. My favorite is a beautiful stained glass portrayal of St. Cecelia holding a hand held portativ organ.
The altar, pulpit and furnishings were all locally made and reflect the craftsmanship of on very talented local man. The organ is well designed for the space and capable of playing any genre of church music. It too is tonaly warm, but has a full tonal palate for this space. It is a beautiful space and I can see why the members of our parish listed it as a reason for their worshiping there. There is a liminal feel to it.
LIMINALITY
The past is present here, even to the point that one could say the place is slightly haunted. Organists know these things because we tend to practice when no one else is around; sounds like footsteps walking along the North side aisle, people taking a seat in the pews, doors opening or closing, hushed voices coming from the sacristy when you know the doors are locked and no one answers when you say "Hello" just in case someone came in and didn't know I was practicing. It's not frightening. In fact, I get a sense of comfortable presence when such things occur.
I get why my congregation loves this place. It has a memory of worship and prayer that has soaked into it warm wooden ceiling, its rafters, and its pews. That sense is very powerful and sitting there alone, as some members of my congregation will do at times, lends itself to prayer. It is, above all, a house of prayer.
The facility has its own ministry, like the ancient cathedrals and churches in Europe. It's there to tell story through it very structure, the symbols (variant forms of circles) carved into its wooden beams, repetitious patterns that are numerically significant: things in two's, threes, fours, fives, sixes, and sevens abound in its wooden shadows. Diamond shapes and the ever present circle motif that surround more familiar Christian symbols in its Windows. It's like reading a coded book.
I'm not sure that most people in our small congregation pay much attention to the details, but I would venture to say they feel the unique atmosphere of the place. It's has the feel of Holy Ground that more modern unadorned worship facilities frequently lack. It is easy to understand that should something destroy this place the congregation would rebuild on the same spot.
Holy ground is about destination, a homing device, a place to get one's bearings, GPS for the soul. It is geographical because humans are geographical. Like the totality of what we call God, we cannot possibly embrace the full meaning that all creation is holy ground, so we break it down to places where for a moment in time we can encounter and contemplate such vastness. All such places bring a tangibility to the transcendent, a place where all five senses can engage in a reality that emerges through the meaning of place.
As such, places of worship are a means of worship, not the end of worship. The distinction is sometimes difficult to make for some. What makes a place Holy Ground is the experience of being drawn to or drawn into something larger than oneself.
Liminality in the Christian experience is sensing the Body of Christ. My congregation has a sense of this mystery in their confirmation that "people are the church" during a recent congregational meeting. Yet, there remains an interplay between place and people, place and prayer, and people in a place at prayer that defines and gives a particular shape and meaning to the incomprehensible mystery called The Body of Christ.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
HOLY GROUND
All religions have their places of worship or places of significance. The importance of an identified place of worship is often downplayed in American Christian culture; especially, in North American Christian culture. After all, the psalmist reminds us, "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. " (Ps. 24:1) In other words, from the perspective of God, all creation is sacred turf.
Added to this, is a strong Protestant ethic that tended to take a dim of view signs and symbols and ritual as a somewhat heathen distraction. In this sense, place is no more liminal than then kneeling beside one's bed to say one's bedtime prayers which, in my opinion, qualifies. Still, over time, place becomes important, even though the thought of it being a liminal environment never crosses one's mind.
Humans, on the other hand, tend to mark those places where encounters with the divine occur as their sacred turf. In the Book of Genesis, Noah, Abraham, and Jacob build altars to God at the places they encountered God. There is not only a sense of sacredness associated with these places but a sense of the sacramental, as sacrifices or ritual in one form or another were performed in order to connect the mundane with the divine.
Many European churches and cathedrals occupy places that have been held sacred long before Christianity. These sacred places were considered so because they were places of encounter with the "other," the holy. In Celtic tradition, such places were considered thresholds between this world and the world of gods and other mystical beings.
Many of these places have fallen into ruin, but they still retain their liminality and some remain places of pilgrimage. Although held in reverence by some as active portals to the other, they are referenced by others as a place of collective memory. In the United States, the church edifice that has been around for some time can be seen as a place of collective memory.
MY CHURCH
My parish church is such a place. It's historical and very connected to my state's history. Governors, legislators of various kinds, a university president, etc. have all been members of this parish. It's neo-gothic, cruciform, and traditional Anglican architecture transports one immediately to a different place: Narthex, Nave, Transept, Rood Screen, Chancel, and Sanctuary, are of a different time and different place, but the materials that built this church are largely local, a stone foundation, bricks made at a local quarry, timber brought in, but fashioned by a local wood craftsman. The environment is dark wood and stained pine. If swallows have not nested their young here, bats have made it their home since as long as anyone can remember. They're not all that intrusive, but do make an occasional fly through to let us know their still hanging around.
It is a warm place, there is an eclectic array of stain glass windows that are unique to this particular structure. There is no thematic scheme to them. They reflect their patron's preference. We have a Masonic window that reflects the fact that our first priest established the Masonic Order of the Scottish Rite in our state. My favorite is a beautiful stained glass portrayal of St. Cecelia holding a hand held portativ organ.
The altar, pulpit and furnishings were all locally made and reflect the craftsmanship of on very talented local man. The organ is well designed for the space and capable of playing any genre of church music. It too is tonaly warm, but has a full tonal palate for this space. It is a beautiful space and I can see why the members of our parish listed it as a reason for their worshiping there. There is a liminal feel to it.
LIMINALITY
The past is present here, even to the point that one could say the place is slightly haunted. Organists know these things because we tend to practice when no one else is around; sounds like footsteps walking along the North side aisle, people taking a seat in the pews, doors opening or closing, hushed voices coming from the sacristy when you know the doors are locked and no one answers when you say "Hello" just in case someone came in and didn't know I was practicing. It's not frightening. In fact, I get a sense of comfortable presence when such things occur.
I get why my congregation loves this place. It has a memory of worship and prayer that has soaked into it warm wooden ceiling, its rafters, and its pews. That sense is very powerful and sitting there alone, as some members of my congregation will do at times, lends itself to prayer. It is, above all, a house of prayer.
The facility has its own ministry, like the ancient cathedrals and churches in Europe. It's there to tell story through it very structure, the symbols (variant forms of circles) carved into its wooden beams, repetitious patterns that are numerically significant: things in two's, threes, fours, fives, sixes, and sevens abound in its wooden shadows. Diamond shapes and the ever present circle motif that surround more familiar Christian symbols in its Windows. It's like reading a coded book.
I'm not sure that most people in our small congregation pay much attention to the details, but I would venture to say they feel the unique atmosphere of the place. It's has the feel of Holy Ground that more modern unadorned worship facilities frequently lack. It is easy to understand that should something destroy this place the congregation would rebuild on the same spot.
Holy ground is about destination, a homing device, a place to get one's bearings, GPS for the soul. It is geographical because humans are geographical. Like the totality of what we call God, we cannot possibly embrace the full meaning that all creation is holy ground, so we break it down to places where for a moment in time we can encounter and contemplate such vastness. All such places bring a tangibility to the transcendent, a place where all five senses can engage in a reality that emerges through the meaning of place.
As such, places of worship are a means of worship, not the end of worship. The distinction is sometimes difficult to make for some. What makes a place Holy Ground is the experience of being drawn to or drawn into something larger than oneself.
Liminality in the Christian experience is sensing the Body of Christ. My congregation has a sense of this mystery in their confirmation that "people are the church" during a recent congregational meeting. Yet, there remains an interplay between place and people, place and prayer, and people in a place at prayer that defines and gives a particular shape and meaning to the incomprehensible mystery called The Body of Christ.
Until next time, stay faithful.
Norm
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)