Yesterday was Valentine’s Day – a lovely little moment in time that could be an occasion of gentle sharing and affection – but is too often just a mandatory display of
sentimentality and crass marketing. Don’t get me wrong, my honey and I had a sweet, little date because we both love those times when we can refresh our commitment. But our celebration was a sanitized and reimagined version of that sappy and manipulative thing we now call Valentine’s Day.That is to say, like many of our holidays and traditions that have been infected by a love and obsession with money, we have had to rediscover what is at their core – their heart – in order to experience their blessing. You see, the depth psychologist, Carl Jung, once noted that people need rituals and celebrations in their lives. We are hard wired for making connections between heaven and earth. When religion works, our rituals are life-giving and take us deeper, but when they fail, people create other experiences that are often pathological.
+ Think of what has happened around food. Once we supported a calendar of feasting and fasting – celebration and lament – but now that we are significantly more secular we obsess on dieting.
+ The same true with young people and gangs: once we had very clear rites of passage for boys becoming men, but now there is just the driver’s license and first job – hardly the stuff that tries and shapes a soul.
Gertrud Mueller-Nelson wisely writes:
Without a conscious way to feed and express our naturally religious nature, we create a vacuum, a void which is quickly filled in with its unconscious counterpart. Our religious hunger, you see, is not passing away; rather, our loss of a religious nurturance only makes us more aware of this hunger. We want meaning and fulfillment and wholeness. Rushing in to fill the void are the low-grade religious experi
ences which bedevil and taunt… In place of the periodic, holy fast, we have become slaves to our perennial diets. In exchange for carrying our cross in the constructive suffering that every life requires, we complain of low back pain… The neurotic is religious material done unconsciously. Compulsive behaviors are the rites and ceremonies of the unconscious which have taken control of our nature… they are begging to be translated and heard and enacted… so that we might embrace the sacred. (To Dance with God, p. 13)
And what has become true for Valentine’s Day – or Christmas and Easter for so many – has also become true for worship: when the dominant metaphor in America is “the bottom line” – an economic and utilitarian concept, not a spiritual one – it should not surprise us that American worship looks more like a “purpose driven” performance than the Sabbath.
For Sabbath, says Rabbi Abraham Heschel, symbolizes the sanctification of time. Listen carefully: Creating holiness in time requires a different sensibility than building a cathedral in space: “We must conquer space in order to sanctify time.” There is a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord. Life goes wrong when the control of space, the acquisition of things of space, becom
es our sole concern.”
In our daily lives we attend primarily to that which the senses are spelling out for us: to what the eyes perceive, to what the fingers touch. Reality to us is thinghood, consisting of substances that occupy space; even God is conceived by most of us as a thing. The result of our thinginess is our blindness to all reality that fails to identify itself as a thing, as a matter of fact.
Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world, on the seventh day we try to dominate the self. That is why the Sabbath has no time for personal anxiety or care, for any activity that might dampen the spirit of joy. The Sabbath is no time to remember sins, to confess, to repent or even to pray for relief or anything we might need. It is a day for praise, not a day for petitions. Fasting, mourning, demonstrations of grief are forbidden… for it is indeed a sin to be sad on the Sabbath day.
Like Huston Smith once observed, perhaps the saddest loss in the blessing of Christianity has to do with forgetting to truly observe the Sabbath as our Hebraic forbearers: we don’t dance, we don’t feast and we certainly don’t sanctify time. For the love of God we can barely sit still in church for 60 minutes – and Lord have mercy should worship go much beyond!
What happened to the time when we could join the Psalmist and proclaim: All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face… for the Lord changed wild lament into whirling dance; you ripped off my black mourning ban
d and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. O God, my God, I can't thank you enough!
es our sole concern.”In our daily lives we attend primarily to that which the senses are spelling out for us: to what the eyes perceive, to what the fingers touch. Reality to us is thinghood, consisting of substances that occupy space; even God is conceived by most of us as a thing. The result of our thinginess is our blindness to all reality that fails to identify itself as a thing, as a matter of fact.
Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world, on the seventh day we try to dominate the self. That is why the Sabbath has no time for personal anxiety or care, for any activity that might dampen the spirit of joy. The Sabbath is no time to remember sins, to confess, to repent or even to pray for relief or anything we might need. It is a day for praise, not a day for petitions. Fasting, mourning, demonstrations of grief are forbidden… for it is indeed a sin to be sad on the Sabbath day.
Like Huston Smith once observed, perhaps the saddest loss in the blessing of Christianity has to do with forgetting to truly observe the Sabbath as our Hebraic forbearers: we don’t dance, we don’t feast and we certainly don’t sanctify time. For the love of God we can barely sit still in church for 60 minutes – and Lord have mercy should worship go much beyond!
What happened to the time when we could join the Psalmist and proclaim: All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face… for the Lord changed wild lament into whirling dance; you ripped off my black mourning ban
d and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. O God, my God, I can't thank you enough!Part of the answer to this lament is clear: somewhere along the way we got trapped in the trappings of religion and forgot that worship is for the WHOLE people of God. Not the clergy or the choir, not the professionals or intellectuals, but the WHOLE people of God: children as well as adults, insiders as well as guests, those who are wounded and those who are well, those who are lost and those who are found. And we’re talking about the WHOLE people of God in all the ambiguity of that expression.
Consider this morning’s gospel text in Mark where Jesus expresses compassion, tenderness, hope and anger as he brings healing to the leper. A social outcast who is a threat to the community approaches Jesus and begs for healing: “If you want to cleanse me,” he pleads, “you can do it.”
+ Filled with compassion the Lord reaches out to touch the pariah saying, “I do want to bring you healing and wholeness.” And when the blessing comes Jesus instructs the man to go back to the priests to show them he can now re-enter society.
+ Now did you catch that: go back to the priests? This is one of the key par
ts of the story; apparently the leper had already been to the gate-keepers of the spirit and they had sent him away. They condemned the leper to a life of pain and loneliness because for very good reasons, lepers were banned from the community. They were required by law to warn others that they were dangerous and unclean only to become the living dead.
But Jesus believed that God was breaking into creation in a whole new way – a way that both interrupted some of the old rules and rendered many others obsolete – including anything that separated real people from the love and support of God’s community. So Jesus acts like a priest – assuming authority and power that was not his to claim – but still touching the unclean man that he might be restored to wholeness. And when this happens, the leper rejoices. He tells everyone he meets about this blessing. He goes back to the priests to be officially welcomed back into town. And he starts to live a life that sounds a great deal like the psalmist who said: Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face… For the Lord changed wild lament into whirling dance; you ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. O God, my God, I can't thank you enough
So let me suggest to you four insights about worship that I discern in all of this that speak to us as the whole people of God. First music is essential in helping us worship the Living God. It is best when our music is participatory rather than passive for the only function performance
has in worship is to draw us deeper into contemplation and prayer – never ego. That means our choirs and ensembles have a ministry to strengthen not replace congregational singing. Our hymns and responses must be accessible, beautiful and meaningful. And all of our music is to be God directed lest we reinforce the self- serving ways of the culture.
Second humor that is humbling and honest is needed in worship now more than ever. Not sarcasm or cruelty, not harsh or crude jokes, but that sweet Zen-like self-deprecating humor that can help us laugh at our self and own our brokenness. Jesus used it all the time: it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Be like this child – let her be your rabbi – for unless you become like one of the least of these you shall miss the blessings within and among you. I am a particular fan of the Sufi wise fool, Nasrudin, who so often helps me laugh at myself. One story puts him in a café drinking tea with a friend late one afternoon. And as they spoke of life and love, his friend asked, “Why did you never marry, Nasrudin?”
“Well,” the old one said, “to tell you the truth I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo, I met a beautiful and intelligent soul with eyes like dark olives, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a wom
an who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no interests in common. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would always be something mission. Then one day, I met her: she was beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind in thought, word and deed. We shared everything in common and it was clear to me that she was, in fact, perfect.”
Consider this morning’s gospel text in Mark where Jesus expresses compassion, tenderness, hope and anger as he brings healing to the leper. A social outcast who is a threat to the community approaches Jesus and begs for healing: “If you want to cleanse me,” he pleads, “you can do it.”
+ Filled with compassion the Lord reaches out to touch the pariah saying, “I do want to bring you healing and wholeness.” And when the blessing comes Jesus instructs the man to go back to the priests to show them he can now re-enter society.
+ Now did you catch that: go back to the priests? This is one of the key par
ts of the story; apparently the leper had already been to the gate-keepers of the spirit and they had sent him away. They condemned the leper to a life of pain and loneliness because for very good reasons, lepers were banned from the community. They were required by law to warn others that they were dangerous and unclean only to become the living dead.But Jesus believed that God was breaking into creation in a whole new way – a way that both interrupted some of the old rules and rendered many others obsolete – including anything that separated real people from the love and support of God’s community. So Jesus acts like a priest – assuming authority and power that was not his to claim – but still touching the unclean man that he might be restored to wholeness. And when this happens, the leper rejoices. He tells everyone he meets about this blessing. He goes back to the priests to be officially welcomed back into town. And he starts to live a life that sounds a great deal like the psalmist who said: Sing your hearts out to God! Thank him to his face… For the Lord changed wild lament into whirling dance; you ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. O God, my God, I can't thank you enough
So let me suggest to you four insights about worship that I discern in all of this that speak to us as the whole people of God. First music is essential in helping us worship the Living God. It is best when our music is participatory rather than passive for the only function performance
has in worship is to draw us deeper into contemplation and prayer – never ego. That means our choirs and ensembles have a ministry to strengthen not replace congregational singing. Our hymns and responses must be accessible, beautiful and meaningful. And all of our music is to be God directed lest we reinforce the self- serving ways of the culture.Second humor that is humbling and honest is needed in worship now more than ever. Not sarcasm or cruelty, not harsh or crude jokes, but that sweet Zen-like self-deprecating humor that can help us laugh at our self and own our brokenness. Jesus used it all the time: it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Be like this child – let her be your rabbi – for unless you become like one of the least of these you shall miss the blessings within and among you. I am a particular fan of the Sufi wise fool, Nasrudin, who so often helps me laugh at myself. One story puts him in a café drinking tea with a friend late one afternoon. And as they spoke of life and love, his friend asked, “Why did you never marry, Nasrudin?”
“Well,” the old one said, “to tell you the truth I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo, I met a beautiful and intelligent soul with eyes like dark olives, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a wom
an who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no interests in common. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would always be something mission. Then one day, I met her: she was beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind in thought, word and deed. We shared everything in common and it was clear to me that she was, in fact, perfect.”“So what happened?” he friend shouted, “Why didn’t you marry this wonderful blessing?” To which Nasrudin sighed as he sipped his tea reflectively. “Well, it is a sad thing: it seems that she was looking for the perfect man.”
(Spiritual Literacy, p. 430)
Music and humor can help the whole people of God become more and more whole and holy. Third, the language we use must be broadly inclusive and accessible. When we shrink our words to what we know the best, we start to create God in our image, when we know that it was really the other way around. That’s why Brian Wren, one of the finest contemporary hymn writers, tells us of God’s creative power like this, “Bring Many Names.” There is a strong mother God, a warm father God, an old aching God, a young growing God
– and a great living God, never fully known, joyful darkness well beyond our seeing, closer yet than breathing, everlasting home: hail and hosanna, great living God. Our words speak of the God we know: and in an era filled with fear and judgment I choose to emphasize grace and light, paradox and hope, community and healing.
And that brings me to the fourth insight, namely that movement matters in worship: it helps us honors our bodies and respect the diversity of abilities within the whole people of God. We believe that the Word became Flesh – that the Incarnation is one of the deepest mysteries of our faith – so we are called to use our bodies in worship to reinforce this radical truth. We clap our hands and snap our fingers; we use our eyes to read, our tongues to sing and our totality to get up and embrace one another for the peace. At the same time we make certain that there is space for those with different abilities: nobody has to clap or move around for the peace.
You see, there is a place for everyone at the table – and if you aren’t as mobile as you once were, then the whole people of God will come to you. Music, humor, careful and loving God talk and movement are very important elements of our worship in the 21st century.
+ They lure us away from “bottom line” thinking and so-called “purpose driven” lives.
+ They help us reclaim Sabbath with healing, encouragement and humility us so that we might discern how to be our best selves in a harsh and often lonely world.
+ And they do it gently – like Jesus touching the hand of the wounded man in exile – and it restores us all to community.
So let me teach you a song that I would ask you to sing with me at the close of worship each week over the next few months. It is lovely and accessible, it is grounded in scripture and could help us go out of worship with the same joy as the healed leper or the Psalmist of old.
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ
And the love of our Creator
And the fellowship – the fellowship –
(Spiritual Literacy, p. 430)
Music and humor can help the whole people of God become more and more whole and holy. Third, the language we use must be broadly inclusive and accessible. When we shrink our words to what we know the best, we start to create God in our image, when we know that it was really the other way around. That’s why Brian Wren, one of the finest contemporary hymn writers, tells us of God’s creative power like this, “Bring Many Names.” There is a strong mother God, a warm father God, an old aching God, a young growing God
– and a great living God, never fully known, joyful darkness well beyond our seeing, closer yet than breathing, everlasting home: hail and hosanna, great living God. Our words speak of the God we know: and in an era filled with fear and judgment I choose to emphasize grace and light, paradox and hope, community and healing.And that brings me to the fourth insight, namely that movement matters in worship: it helps us honors our bodies and respect the diversity of abilities within the whole people of God. We believe that the Word became Flesh – that the Incarnation is one of the deepest mysteries of our faith – so we are called to use our bodies in worship to reinforce this radical truth. We clap our hands and snap our fingers; we use our eyes to read, our tongues to sing and our totality to get up and embrace one another for the peace. At the same time we make certain that there is space for those with different abilities: nobody has to clap or move around for the peace.
You see, there is a place for everyone at the table – and if you aren’t as mobile as you once were, then the whole people of God will come to you. Music, humor, careful and loving God talk and movement are very important elements of our worship in the 21st century.
+ They lure us away from “bottom line” thinking and so-called “purpose driven” lives.
+ They help us reclaim Sabbath with healing, encouragement and humility us so that we might discern how to be our best selves in a harsh and often lonely world.
+ And they do it gently – like Jesus touching the hand of the wounded man in exile – and it restores us all to community.
So let me teach you a song that I would ask you to sing with me at the close of worship each week over the next few months. It is lovely and accessible, it is grounded in scripture and could help us go out of worship with the same joy as the healed leper or the Psalmist of old.
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ
And the love of our Creator
And the fellowship – the fellowship –
of the Holy Spirit
Be with us – for evermore – and evermore
And evermore – Amen
The first time we sing it in unison – reminding ourselves that we are all in this together – and the second time a Capella in parts – as a way of embodying our gifts and the joy of God’s grace within and among us. Are you ready to give it a try...?
Be with us – for evermore – and evermore
And evermore – Amen
The first time we sing it in unison – reminding ourselves that we are all in this together – and the second time a Capella in parts – as a way of embodying our gifts and the joy of God’s grace within and among us. Are you ready to give it a try...?
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