The Christian Response

Tags

Amos, Christ, church, Hosea, service, theology, worship

This is a difficult post, because it will be easily misunderstood, and so I’ll do my best to speak carefully. I want to discuss the issue of personal salvation versus following Jesus. The two are not the same.

As some of you know, I’ve been mulling over my own ministry work, trying to determine whether it is right and valid to withdraw somewhat  given my life at this point.  Of concern to me, is that this becomes a “me” thing, and as a Christian, I am called to be “other” oriented.

In my EFM studying, I’ve been focusing on Amos and Hosea, two of the earliest “classical” prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures. Both preached in the Northern Kingdom of Israel in the 8th century BCE. Both condemn the Israelites for their unfaithfulness.

Contrary to popular belief, monotheism did not arise as a finished thing with Abraham. For centuries, and probably into more than one thousand years thereafter, the Hebrews struggled with this concept. They believed that Yahweh was their personal God, but certainly not as the only God. The scriptures reflect this quite often.

Most of the prophets continue to rant about the failure of kings and people to give up their reliance on Baal and other Middle Eastern deities. In addition, during this period, both Amos and Hosea add another charge–the people are practicing their “religion” just fine, but it is not confined to worship of Yahweh, but is self-serving. People come to be seen, to make connections, to offer tithes in return for fertility of field and wife. In other words they come to church with a personal agenda to fulfill. They are here to buy through ritual and alms, the good life.

I had to ask myself, was this still an issue for us today? And the answer is most assuredly yes. Here is where it gets tricky, since I in no way wish to condemn people for having personal reasons for attending church and engaging in missionary work. The work of parishioners is the life blood and backbone of most every church. They could not function without all the offered volunteers quite simply.

But we know that people attend church for reasons of being seen–politicians and professionals are often guilty of this. People attend because they are lonely and church provides a social life for some. It alleviates boredom for others–they have something to do during the week. And of course people attend because they are fearful of the future, and wish to insure a better chance that they will be heaven bound upon death.

These are not bad reasons–indeed if the work of the kingdom is done, it does not matter greatly that personal motives are also in the mix. In fact, these occasions become spiritual to the degree that one thinks of them as such.  I in no way condemn nor chastise anyone who has “ulterior” motives in engaging in church work.

Churches themselves often contribute to this over-emphasis on “me.” Many denominations often focus on personal salvation as their main message. Others seek to be a home away from home to their congregants. They seek to provide every service imaginable, in some measure to draw in new members. Yet, one cannot deny that in doing so they are caring for the flock as directed.

But when do we cross the line from “feeding my sheep” to operating a country club? Surely one could argue that the “prosperity” gospel churches are entirely me focused, even though they often rail at the “secularization” of America and the world. What can be more secular than a me-oriented preaching that touts financial good as God’s desire?

I am blessed with a church whose focus remains constant. We are told that even though we fall, and fail again and again, we are loved and our duty is to love. We are urged to emulate Christ, by taking care of the world, little bit by little bit.  The most beautiful words are in the time of Eucharist, “come you who have much faith and you who have little. Come you who have come here often, and you who have seldom come. Come because the Lord invites you to meet him here. It is not the church who invites, but it is our Lord, who awaits all who wish him.” Or words to that effect.

Easter Sunday, numerous folks are in church whom we normally don’t see. The “program” explained some of the common activities of the service and how to negotiate the Book of Common Prayer and the Hymnal. Included was an explanation of the baskets used for offerings. It was explained that visitors should in no way feel compelled to make any offering. In fact, they were gently advised not to. “Let us serve you today.”

Such is the mission of my Church–to serve.  And with this serving is an unswerving dedication to leading its congregants to service to others. This seems to me to be worship at its best–teaching and by example, showing us how to put on the mind of Christ.

As individual Christians, I think we are called to examine ourselves regularly. How are we measuring up? Are our practices, rituals, and activities directed mostly for future benefit to ourselves? Or, are they aligned mostly to worshiping (showing our love and obedience) through emulation of our Savior?

It seems to me a balance needs be struck. It is proper and good that actions serve both of course, but I think that periodic evaluation is in order. Worship is judged aright when it is tied to service, for the proper way to obey is to do justice and equity within the land. Are we aware of what our practice is? I don’t know. I only ask the questions.

They utter mere words;

With empty oaths they make covenants;   (Hosea 10:4)

A Convenient Truth

Tags

church, empathy, faith, God, joy, paradox, worship

A number of things have been rattling round the old noggin the past day or so, and let me try to set them down in some coherent form. Try is the operative word here.

I’m reminded that coherence depends on the audience. To an atheist, much of what I might be saying would be not so clear. As I’ve said in the past, proselytizing has a major draw back. There is no “logical” fool proof “proof” of that which is offered as truth, one sees the truth because one believes. If one doesn’t, other explanations make as much sense.

All I can say, frankly, is that I’ll do the best I can to ‘splain what I mean, but if it’s not convincing, don’t blame me. Faith is not subject to cold hard facts as they say, which prompts the average atheist to exclaim in the best church lady voice, “How con VEEEE nient for you.”

 It’s a well known fact that new converts are exuberant and suffer from saint complexes. They are “excessively” in love with their new faith and with their new God. This generally wears off in time, and church leaders are well versed in slowing down such people before they get into ministry and church activities way over their heads, only to find that there is still “life” out there to be lived.

I suppose the same is true when one joins another faith tradition. As  a new Roman Catholic, I suffered or enjoyed, your choice, the traditional, more Catholic than the Pope, attitude. In time, it subsided. Mass became the norm it is for most, an obligation, which one can take seriously or ignore as one is wont to do.

I’ve been an Episcopalian for nearly a year and a half, and frankly, my holier than thou period seems to be getting more so than less. I’m inclined in some manner, to believe it has a lot to do with my particular church. It is something special, and I cannot explain it adequately. All I know is that forces have come to play in one place and time to bring together an extraordinary array of people who seem in some amazing way to uplift and uphold each other in ways that infuse us all with deeply felt awe and awareness that we are a very special congregation.

With each passing week, I find myself more drawn to the liturgy of the day, more reverent in my prayer and worship, more deeply aware of the holiness of this place, these people, and my God. He fairly permeates this building, oozing love and blessing from every inch of it.

I fairly don’t know what to think of all this. It has not happened to me before in so strong a fashion.

Concomitant with this, is of course, a growing knowledge and friendship with so many individuals. With that comes an awareness of the ups and downs of others lives. I find myself learning about illnesses and losses, setbacks and triumphs of various members. I begin to know who are those who are suffering, those who are in delicate circumstances, carefully navigating new jobs, careers, life changes. I share their joys but also their sorrows.

And, the paradox of it all, is that, even in the midst of all this empathy, I feel an increasing joy. This causes a great deal of consternation to me, and I’m not sure how to feel. I mean, when a friend is suffering, how can I feel happy? How can I feel joy when I carry the burden of sadness that some of my friends are going through great difficulties?

What happens, is that I feel the shame of my own meagre complaints. I complain about wind and snow and frigid temperatures. I complain about fairly minor digestive issues. I complain about lack of funds to buy laptops and high speed connections. They are nothing in comparison to what others are living with. They would cry with joy to have such “complaints.”

So I feel this joy, that my troubles are minor in comparison, and the shame of feeling the joy.

It’s all jumbled up in some rat’s nest of complicated thought that I cannot unravel. I can only try to explain it to myself, and to you. There are no right words to describe it. Poets and prose writers do that for us. I scribble my thoughts and hope in some way that I touch a cord with others, that I explain in my faulty way what they too feel. For I never think my thinking is unique in a general sense.

As people of faith, we attempt to describe, explain, and often convince others that what we believe is real and important. We mostly fail, as it relates to the unbeliever, and I don’t argue that it should succeed. Faith comes to one who desires faith I think. It cannot be logically transferred to the mind of the unbeliever and convince them.

The bible is no more than these attempts over and over again. There is seldom a point in the bible where plain facts are stated. It is, in parts, and in total, writings that have a point of view. The stories, whether actual events, or offered to express over arching theological principles, always are persuasive. They are not neutral.

This essay too, is not logical, not neutral. It will hopefully be understood by the believer, who too has traversed this paradox of sympathy, empathy and joy, all at once. I continue to ponder. I listen carefully for God’s whispered encouragement. I look for the signs that direct me to a better understanding. Until then, I sit with my convenient truth,  on the edge of the razor, living the paradox.

Opening our Arms and Hearts

Tags

Anglican, Catholic, Episcopalian, faith, ritual, social concerns, theology, worship

It’s funny to me how a church picks me. Yes, you read that correctly, a church picks me. I don’t believe I pick it. I simply come into it and wait, with patient hope. Is this the one?

Plenty have not been the one, and I have tarried a few weeks, seldom longer before moving on. Sometimes I know it at the first step inside the door. This is not my place. God doesn’t speak to me here. I listen. I act. There are plenty of places to wrangle about truth and comfort. I follow the Spirit on where to church myself.

Similarly, the attributes of a church are not always apparent early on. Much must often be worked through, experienced and digested before the finer points of a congregation and its structure can be realized for the precious pearl that it is. Such has been my experience anyway.

I could write volumes day after day of the joy I find in Christ Church. Most of it, I was unaware of until months had gone by. As I become more and more a part of this family, I learn new things that make my choice (the Spirit’s choice) to reside here among these people of faith, the right thing for me.

One thing I realized recently is that Christ Church is a radically open atmosphere in which faith is tenderly received and nurtured. For those of you unacquainted, an Episcopal church is often referred to as “Catholic light,” meaning that we look a lot like a Roman Catholic church in ritual. Dogmatically we are not so much alike.

That means there is a rather extensive list of physical actions that are available. There is genuflecting,  deep bowing or head bowing, curtsying, kneeling, sitting, standing, crossing. There is worship with heads and hands uplifted, or not. There are those who sing during communion and those who don’t.

All of these are practiced in my church. Everyone does “their thing” as it were. Most anything is acceptable, though I suspect anyone dancing down the aisle speaking in tongues and waving snakes might meet with some shocked looks and sharp intakes of breath. But you get my point. Rituals are broad, and people execute them as they see fit, more or less.

We in a word, tolerate, some significant differences in our congregation and the means by which they wish to worship. (We actually have two rites, one much more conservative than the other.) Yet we are one family, and we come to, I believe, rejoice in our differences. They cease to be matters of tolerance and become the beauty of the diversity that we are.

We are told each week, that Jesus calls us to the table, not the church. He calls us whether we have been “good” or not so good. The church provides the facility for God’s call and serves in the capacity of “hands” for God.

While this is all well and good as is, there is more to this type of openness I believe. By supporting and upholding us all in our varied personal ritualistic practices, the church draws us toward being more tolerate of each other’s theological differences.

Indeed we have theological differences. And some of them are deep and painful to us. Some of them you know for they are published by article and lawsuit. Yet, we have come to find in the faces of those with whom we disagree fundamentally on some issues, more places where we are able to agree.

I don’t want to make more of this than there is. The disagreements, as I said, run deep. Yet, we are able to still look upon each other as persons with sincere feelings and beliefs. We are not judging each other as evil or intentionally mean spirited. We see the humanity, the face of Jesus more clearly in the faces of those whom we have difficulty understanding.

I have concluded that the openness of our worship practices, the willingness not to be stultifying in our routines, stretches us in ways that pay off when we are called to work out the real issues that divide our faith tradition. It may not make the critical difference, but it helps.

It is another of the many reasons that I find myself so happy in Christ Church. Last Sunday, we were asked to group together in small numbers and discuss briefly why we are here, in this place, in this church. Joyously, I laughed as I turned and realized that my conversation would be with a couple of “visitors” from Minnesota. I was so happy to share my joy with them, and I could see from their faces that my words had an impact.

They are not contemplating driving from Minnesota every weekend of course, but I suspect they will take something home to their parish. Joy spreads, and the reasons for it become known. New ways of seeing and relating are explored. Opportunities become available. We must and should take advantage of each one in furthering the mission of Jesus.

Jesus was about compassion, forgiveness, and in including those who have so often been denied and turned away. We are a welcoming church. We welcome you, should you ever find yourself with nothing to do on a Sunday morning in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.