Church has been made safe, comfortable and non-threatening. We leave our messy and damaged selves outside freeing us up for Worship Aerobics. We greet, bow, kneel, sit, stand, sing, bow, kneel, recite, pray, hug, sit, stand, stare, judge, wiggle, squirm, and day-dream – then go home for a nap.
Rev. Gretta Vosper shared these thoughts with a reader who left her church and feels disconnected, “It is so hard to realize that you are no longer drawn to a community of faith by the faith of the community.” She then offered opportunities to consider for community and service outside the church: “Many places need a helping hand, from food banks to women’s shelters to garden centers and reading programs. Any one of them would lift your heart and connect you to that great power of love filled by so many needs in the world. In the process of finding that new ministry, be open to the new friends to whom it will introduce you. They may not look like what you’re used to, but your heart, next to theirs, will soon beat with a common rhythm.”
Walking away from the church was a formidable and uncertain experience. I thought I had everything figured out – I was wrong. Now, here I was, packing up a Master’s Degree that hadn’t even had time to collect dust.
Then came the guilt. My Graduate School education was completely paid for by a grant. When I was accepted into the program, it was expected that I would return to my parish and begin work as a Pastoral Associate. What seemed to be forgotten, or missed all together, by those establishing the program was the stubborn refusal of Priests to accept us…you know… women as part of the leadership team. Apparently, the times they were not a-changin’.
I spoke to some pastors, my own in particular, who told me they weren’t interested in what I had to offer even though I said I would work as a volunteer. I was shown the door and given a man-sized boot.
I’m sure the discouragement and frustration I felt were palpable. I couldn’t fight that male-dominated, power-hungry, muscle-flexing attitude. It exhausted me and made me cuss more frequently, so I gave up. It was a short walk from there to totally leaving the church, but I left brokenhearted.
THE PROBLEM WITH DONUTS AND LATTES:
How about you?
If, as a youth, going to church was nothing more than an obligation and the only time you didn’t drag your feet and complain was Donut Sunday – that’s a problem.
If the only thing that set your heart on fire at Youth Group were the cute girls/boys – that’s a problem.
If you quit attending church the minute you came of age because it was never your “thing”, whose failure is that? The Churches’? Your parents? Yours? Or….
STUCK IN ORDINARY
In the Catholic tradition we have what is called “Ordinary Time” – basically the times before and after Easter and Christmas. I would imagine that resembles other traditions even if it isn’t named as such.
Perhaps the word “ordinary” is a problem. “Hey, I live ordinary, monotonous, boring every day of my life! Why on earth would I want to get up early, dress up, squeeze into a pew full of strangers and listen to irrelevant “stuff” that puts me back to sleep and causes me to snore and drool out the side of my mouth? Why?
Megachurches have tried to fill the gap with music and light shows that could rival “Jesus Christ Superstar”.
The problem is, while folks are swinging and swaying and belting out thirty minutes of music (albeit beautiful music), Jesus left the building, and no one noticed.
TRANSCENDING ORDINARY IS RISKY:
Is it the Church’s responsibility to turn “ordinary” into extraordinary? And what exactly is “extraordinary? Can we even define “church” in the context of what we do know about God?
God is: Magnificent, gracious, merciful, and forgiving. His gratuitous love spills into the heart and souls of every one of us. He cares deeply about the lost and forsaken. Is that what we experience in church? Is that what we hear from the pulpit? Is that what we base our actions and attitudes on? From the daily news of the violence and hatred emanating from many “Christians” today, it wouldn’t seem so.
How many of us would feel culpable if we stood by and watched but didn’t actively participate in that violence? How many of us hate in silence?
Mary Collins shares the words of the British writer Monica Furlong: “It has been customary to talk as if the purpose of the Church has been to put people in touch with God, or to keep them in touch with God….although on the face of it the church seems to exist to help its adherents into a relationship with God. It equally, and perhaps essentially, plays the opposite role of trying to filter out an experience of transcendence which might be overwhelming.”
Collins continues with a striking question, “What did she (Furlong) judge to be one of the church’s key filters for helping people avoid too great an intimacy with God? Liturgy. Liturgy as ‘keeping in touch’ without getting too close. Yet the bravest among us allow ourselves to wonder. Dare we agree that liturgical practice itself, in whatever form, conceals the truth about God that we are unable to bear?”
In my own faith, which has grown from non-existent to something beyond my imagining, God-filled AHA moments did not happen while I was sitting in the pew on Sunday. Possibly because I was always on guard for lightning strikes against me or the guy next to me.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved certain aspects of being a part of a church community. What frustrated me was not seeing the most central expression of our faith – communion –forgotten the minute we (myself included) walked out the door.
When we share communion, we are reminded of Jesus’ words at the Last Supper, “Take this bread and never forget me. Never forget how much I love you! Never forget“. But, we do forget.
We stroll in late, haul purses, coats, and kids through the communion line, and straight out the door for the important stuff of the day: Soccer, brunch, bingo, whatever.
We forget that more must occur the other six days of the week. God’s call to take what we were just fed into a hurting world rings hollow in hearts that are not transformed.
We refuse to accept that the problem has anything to do with us, and we certainly don’t want to get close enough to God to hear the truth. That’s too scary. It may expose us to the real God, and it’s that real God we go to great lengths to avoid.
Many come to faith the same way we come to our day-to-day world. We bring our narcissistic attitude that the world revolves around us. The God we worship must meet our expectations and demands. The world is a mess – He must fix it. People are suffering – He must help them. I am a Christian – He must put me first. So our worship amounts to praise if things are going well and complaining if they’re not.
Those “bravest among us,” Collins calls God-seekers who risk. She says: “Monica Furlong, speaking about liturgy as keeping in touch without getting too close to God, distinguished between ordinary churchgoers and “god-seekers”. She observed that god-seekers risk more than the ordinary. They risk their sanity – their healthy adjustment to conventional thinking – by opening themselves to powerful disclosures of the divine. The rest of us, less adventurous, go to church. But it is possible to be both.”
WOULD WE LAY DOWN OUR LIVES? (JOHN 15:13)
Saint Oscar Romero was a bishop in El Salvador. He was gunned down at the altar while celebrating Mass. He knew that was likely to happen when he pleaded on the radio the night before for the violence and murders to stop.
He called out the National Guard troops in particular. They had already killed six other priests, so he was sure he would also die at their hands. But he spoke out anyway, and he celebrated Mass anyway. And the people came anyway! He passionately and fearlessly upheld the gospel mandates to care for his brothers and sisters in Christ – all of them!
The poor among him who suffered and the soldiers heard his plea, “No soldier is obliged to obey an order counter to the law of God. Therefore, in the name of God, and in the name of this long-suffering people, whose laments rise to heaven every day more tumultuous, I beseech you, I beg you, I command you! In the name of God: ‘Cease the repression!’”
The purpose of the church is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. We, as Christians and the preachers who are called to lead, should hear and ACT ON Romero’s powerful words, or our profession of faith is a lie: “A church that doesn’t provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn’t touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed — what gospel is that? Very nice, pious considerations that don’t bother anyone; that’s the way many would like preaching to be. Those preachers who avoid every thorny matter so as not to be harassed, so as not to have conflicts and difficulties, do not light up the world they live in. … The gospel is courageous.”
God wants us to know that every bit of pain and suffering that we see or experience calls for our response. Without us, nothing will change. Nothing!
Annie Dillard also presents a harsh reality, “There is no one but us. There is no one to send but only us. There never has been.”
What is required of us but to do justly and to love mercy (Micha 6:8). We are called to be the instruments of justice and mercy in this world. There is no one but us. If we can ever come to a place where we “get it,” our worship will become the action that will resound in a world that suffers.
We will sing through our hurting, rejoice through our suffering, and be a beacon to a world that is yet to “get it”.
JUST WHO ARE YOU, GOD?
Can we ever be brave enough to accept the reality of a God we can’t imagine?
Even though every theological method of putting a label on God has been tested through the ages, one fact remains, and it’s one we as human beings refuse to accept: We will never figure God out! And I am certain (metaphorically) he rolls his eyes at our feeble attempts at it.
WHAT’S THAT SMELL?!
We can affect change in the world if we become bold enough. God is searching for people hot after his own heart, like David. Yes, that David, the adulterer and murderer. He was a screw-up who hobbled through life, often missing the mark. But, when he got it right and was on fire for God, there was no stopping him! And people took notice! They smelled something burning and came to check it out.
Now, dear friends, it’s our turn.