Sunday, December 21, 2014
You can read him here: Liturgy: On Bended Knee.
Okay, if you can't wait, let me reprint a paragraph or two to whet your appetite. . .
“Unless you accept the kingdom of God as a little child,” says Jesus, “you shall not enter.” The lintel to that kingdom is low. We must be emptied of ourselves to be filled with God.
The language of our bodies is not wholly arbitrary. We cannot say, “We’ll stand on one foot and hold a forefinger to the nose, and that will signify that we long for the fragrance of grace.” No one will understand that. We ourselves will not believe it. We cannot say, “We will adore God by slouching in the pew, arms and legs spread-eagled.” It can’t work.
We cannot say, “We will emphasize the holiness of the Eucharist we are about to receive, by milling about the aisles to pass small talk with friends.” Our bodies will contradict our purported intention. The “emphasis” will be at best notional. We will not feel it in our pulses.
READ it. . .
Saturday, December 20, 2014
In the stir occasioned by the startling appearance of John the Forerunner, the question everyone wanted to ask was “Who are you?” This had nothing to do with John’s parentage but everything to do with what his coming signaled. “Are you the One?” In other words, we have been waiting a long time, are you the One whom we have awaited for so long?
It is our question, too. Like those long ago, we have found ourselves disappointed so often. We are almost afraid to hope. From political leaders to religious leaders, we have raised our hopes only to see them dashed upon the rock of disappointment. We are afraid to trust, afraid to believe, and afraid to hope.
So the question that came to John so long ago still fits. “Are you the One? Are you the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world? Can we trust you not to disappoint us? Will you fill our empty hearts? Will you repair our broken lives? Will you comfort our sorrows? Will you heal our sick and dying bodies?
We can relate. Too many have played with our hopes and dreams and left us cold and empty inside. We want to believe but we have been disappointed so often, it is hard to believe.
John does not shrink from the hard truth. I am not the One but the One whom you seek is coming. You will know Him not merely by His words and promises but by the way He keeps His promises and delivers what His words speak.
The Spirit of the Lord has anointed me. . . These are the words Jesus fulfills. He comes not as a wannabe but as One who was sent. Sent to bring good news to the poor, to bind up the broken, and to free the captives. Later when some of John’s followers have second thoughts, Jesus does not convince them with words or arguments but the prophetic word fulfilled. What do you see and hear?
Like the crowds of old, we want to know if Jesus can do it. Can He deliver upon all our needs and do for us what God has promised? The mark of Jesus and His answer is not words or promices but the actions of righteousness and redemption. This we know not by uncertain evidence but clear truth. Just as John was not sent with only his opinion to share, neither are we subject to mere opinions or hunches. What does Jesus say and do? What do you see and hear in Him?
Christ is not some distant deity whom we must find but the Savior whom the Father has sent. He stands among us hidden in the clothing of flesh and blood, born of the Spirit and the Virgin. If our eyes might miss Him, faith does not. Christ is the incarnate Word of God who does what He says. This performative Word does just what it says. It is powerful enough to speak and bring forth all creation and it is powerful enough to speak and rend our hearts to believe in Christ.
Christ is the incarnate Word who lives in baptismal water and makes it deliver to the dying who are brought to the font the fullness of Christ’s life and forgiveness. Baptism is not a symbol. In fact, as a symbol it offers us little of value. But it is water and Word, churning with the grace and mercy of God. It kills what the Law has already declared dead in trespasses and sin and it bestows eternal life so that death cannot overcome us.
Christ is the incarnate Word whose voice calls to bread and it becomes the very flesh of Christ for the life of the world. He is the incarnate Word whose voice speaks to wine and it flows red as blood. We meet a God who acts, who delivers, who transforms... And there is forgiveness for sins too many to name, righteousness to cover the darkest guilt and shame, and life strong enough to withstand all the forces of evil and death.
It is strange that the things most certain in our lives are not those seen with eyes or touched with fingers but that which we know, confess, and believe by faith. We hard the words of those who saw the glory of the manger and journeys half a world to meet Him who is born Savior of the world.
We heard the reports of those who heard the voice from heaven when Jesus came up out of the baptismal water. We heard from those who saw Him suffer and watched Him die on the cross. We heard from those who saw the body laid in the grave with all its coldness and death. We heard from those who went to the grave and found Christ risen never to die again.
In Advent we come – asking, begging, and pleading... “Are You the One, Jesus?” We want to know if He can do for us what we want and need. We want to know if He has stuck with us even when all we ever did was screw it up. We want to know that nothing and no one can drive Him away or cause Him to give up on us and our broken lives.
That is Advent’s promise. He is still there. He has not abandoned us or written us off or forgotten us. He has come to us with great power and He still wields that power to redeem and save us. He who calls you, He is faithful and He will do it. There are few things in life that are sure – death, taxes. . . and Jesus, even more sure. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!
What impressed me most was the delight of parents whose sons had chosen to become priests. They clearly honored their sons and their faith with the greatest of joy and reverence for those whom the Lord calls. Some may call it old fashioned. I think it is inspiring. So also the stories of these young men were inspirational moments that spoke well to the very Lutheran understanding of vocation or calling.
What troubles me is that while this chronicled the ascendency of seminarians and new priests in a church body that has heard too much bad news, we Lutherans are finding the numbers of seminarians down, along with the numbers of those preparing for pastoral vocations (at least at Synodical colleges and universities). This is indeed troubling. Enrollment to the residential programs at both Fort Wayne and Saint Louis are down (though the drop is somewhat countered by the growth of the non-residential SMP program). I am greatly troubled that we as a church are not urging the brightest and best to consider church work vocations (especially men to the pastorate), that parents are neither as thrilled by their children's choice of church work vocations nor as supportive as they once were, and that the church has further dampened the enthusiasm by foisting more and more of the total cost of education upon seminarians and those in undergrad programs of church work.
Maybe we need to watch more stories like this one by Lisa Ling. I know that I was inspired by figures in the media in my era (going back almost to Bing Crosby and the Going My Way and The Bells of St. Mary's along with Shoes of a Fisherman, The Cardinal, etc.). Church work, and specifically the pastoral vocation, are noble callings and we need to encourage all our children (especially our best and brightest) to consider the calling. The support of the family is key to anyone's consideration of the pastoral ministry or other church work vocations. I know it was a major help to me.
Friday, December 19, 2014
|check out cartoons here: http://www.cartoonchurch.com/|
It all served to jog my memory about a conversation with someone in the South who did not have a clue who Lutherans were. After describing briefly what Lutherans believed, confessed, and taught, the Southerner replaced his knurled brow with half a smile. Oh, he said, you are fundamentalists with a liturgy. So that is who we are. I am glad somebody finally clued me in. But seriously, that was the response. Either I did not do a credible job of describing who Lutherans were (are) or else it is so odd as to defy understanding and to require a simple caricature to define us to the Southern world of religion and faith. I am not sure which is more accurate.
I fear that this is exactly how many within Lutheranism see themselves -- at least those on the conservative side of things. They see us as Bible Baptists when it comes to Scripture, Reformed when it comes to identity, Methodists when it comes to piety, and semi-Roman Catholics when it comes to worship. In other words, they do not see consistency between the faith confessed and the faith lived out on Sunday morning. That is troubling.
Lutherans were, at least when I grew up, an odd lot of people who were duller than dull on Sunday morning (slavishly following the page numbers), led by a preacher in a black robe, subjected to 40 minute sermons on texts other than the lessons read for that morning, and a people with a high view of the sacraments yet somewhat distant since baptisms often took place other than Sunday morning and the Sacrament of the Altar was more absent than present in the life of most parishes. If you liked this kind of church, well, each to his own, I guess. What got me going was not the experience of being Lutheran on Sunday morning but the theology that defined us (often fairly distant from Lutheran Sunday mornings of the 1950s and 1960s).
Lutherans are not the same -- at least the confessional kind! We are more and more insistent that if we believe it, confess it in our Concordia, we ought to live it on Sunday morning. That is unsettling to the folks who were comfortable with the Lutheran split personality of the past but I think it is a good thing for Lutherans facing the world around us. We will not succeed being a country club or social group or Lutheran lite version of ourselves in a world expecting and even demanding authenticity. So we must be who we are.
This means reaching back beyond pleasant memory, reaching back even beyond institutional identity (LCMS), and reinvigorating ourselves and our life together around the Word of God and the Lutheran Confessions. When this happens, we will outgrow the misnomer of fundamentalists with a liturgy and just maybe grow into the identity we claim for ourselves in the Confessions: evangelical catholics!
Thursday, December 18, 2014
|check out cartoons here: http://www.cartoonchurch.com/|
On one recent full flight the airline had to bribe the passengers with free booze to exchange seats so a mother could sit with her young daughter. What is in it for me to be kind. On another flight where we were warned over and over again there would be no free seats, the early birds on the plane insisted upon getting the aisle seats and making it nearly impossible for people to get into the empty inside seats. In fact, the delay in getting people into their seats and carry-ons stowed caused us to take off late.
We don't pay much attention to others -- except to complain -- and are not very tolerant of others. For example, on Sunday morning a new family slipped in and out without being greeting but they did sit next to regular members. When I asked the regular members if they saw or met or even passed the friendship register to them to sign in, the response was "No, we did not see or notice them." In many respects we work very hard NOT to see or deal with strangers. Perhaps this is a reflection of our culture but it is a problem in churches.
At the same time we are avoiding contact with strangers, we also complain loudly that churches are not friendly enough, that we are all so lonely, and that nobody seems to know us or pay attention to us. So often we live within this seeming paradox rather than take the effort to get to know so that we are known. There is something rather sad about this. We want to be known and noticed by others but we do not want to take the initiative to know them.
I do not think it is simply meanness or rudeness -- at least not intentionally. But I do think we have allowed the culture of fear to enter the nave and that we have grown as a culture and as Christians too complacent about the ordinary routines of friendliness. Now, to be sure, some folks do not want to be noticed and prefer anonymity. I understand that. But most of us crave personal attention. I like the bank branch where they know me by name and call me by name. I don't think we are all so different here. I think those who desire anonymity are a minority. Most of us yearn for others to know us -- even though we tend to be naturally suspicious of strangers. Most of the time all we need is a little encouragement -- not so much from the pulpit as from our friends and neighbors in the pews.
Most of the time I am a talker -- too much of a talker for most in my family who wish I was quieter in public. I got in naturally -- both my mom and dad are outgoing folks. This is a helpful trait if you are a Pastor. I would encourage you to think of it as helpful to those who are not Pastors but folks in the pew. Open your mouth, say hello, introduce yourself, begin a conversation, and get to know the folks around you in church (whether old timers or new folks). This is a personal campaign to end the criticism that churches are unfriendly (which is really to say that Christians are not friendly).
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
You can read it for yourself or you can listen to a wonderful presentation of what Lutherans believe, confess, and teach about worship. . .
Thanks be to God for Issues, Etc. and, particularly, for this presentation.
It will open the eyes of many on what Lutherans have obligated themselves to say and do and what personal preference means to all of this -- both from clergy and lay!!
The vestments were heavy and hot but no one, including acolytes, fussed with them. They were vested in different colors and styles (especially the headgear of the clergy). Yet no one seemed to notice this seeming contradictions. There was an ease about it all -- an informal formality -- so that even though it was long and they did not have a neat little service folder or hymnal to guide them, they were content. They knew those leading the worship knew where they were going and when they would get there (and they were content to join in the journey of that liturgy).
Both in terms of rite and ritual, Western Christian liturgy is remarkably different from Eastern. In the West we tend to focus on the words -- printing out every word spoken and then following the well scripted service from service folder or hymnal. We tend toward more uniformity -- even rehearsing the rites so that we are all always on the same page. We are much more concerned with and economical about the time we invest in worship -- especially as Lutherans who spare the ritual and the ceremony for a more compact and cerebral worship experience. Sometimes I think we could learn a thing or two from our Eastern kin. I am NOT saying we should adopt their liturgy, architecture, music, or ritual BUT I think it would be good if we would learn from their patience.
We are many things on Sunday morning but we are seldom patient. We don't tolerate much wandering on our liturgical journey and prefer a more direct and faster paced pathway from beginning to end. We like a quicker gait to the music and the words. We tend to have a single focus on what happens in worship and who is going it. We want to watch (liturgist, assistants, choir, etc.) and we expect to have something good to watch (a good show). We like it when each one does his or her own part and things move along quickly. We do not tolerate silence well. If there is a pause in the action, we tend to think somebody missed his cue.
In other words, we are not very patient people in the pews -- or in the chancel. This is not a good thing. We tend to race through worship toward the finish line and dinner at Cracker Barrel. If we don't, we tend to get restless. I guess I am also guilty. Many of us do not feel all that much guilt about demanding that things stay focused and head quickly to their conclusion on Sunday morning. We should feel more guilt about rushing through to the finish line.
Perhaps this is merely a symptom of our problem with God. He is patient -- even long suffering. He has the long view always in sight while we see only what is directly in front of us. We confuse His patience with ambivalence -- and God is not ambivalent! I think it would be a good thing if we learned some patience from our Eastern kinfolk and paid as much attention to the middle as we did to rushing the end.