Showing posts with label worship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worship. Show all posts

September Church Rhythms

“Where two or three are gathered in my name,
I am there among them.”
[Jesus, Matthew 18:15-22, NRSV]


This month, all over Indiana and Kentucky and across the country, congregations and other communities of faith, large and small, urban and rural and everywhere in between, return to the regular rhythms of congregational life. Sunday School and other education and formation classes crank up. Committees and councils begin to meet again at their appointed hour on whatever second Monday or third Thursday of the month is theirs. Worship attendance returns (we pray!) to its post-vacation season levels. Regular trips to the food pantry or other places of service ministry resume.

The month of September is a busy time, an exciting time, a hopeful and even a tense time in the life of the people of God.

It’s also a holy time.

I suspect – actually I know from my own experience – that in the midst of all the planning and preparation and publicity and implementation for this autumn advent we tend to forget that there is something more than just human activity going on. This is not just a class or coffee klatch or kid’s program or adult fellowship we are preparing or engaging. As incredible as it may sound given some of the things we do when we are together, it’s all part of the gracious reign of God come near and it’s steeped in promise.

Where two or three are gathered in my name, Jesus promises, I am there among them.

Where Jesus is, God’s reign comes near and things happen; people – and worlds – are changed.

Where Jesus is, forgiveness is offered, received, and shared. Tattered lives are held together in love and healed by grace. Deep, holy hospitality is offered to people who are lonely or wandering or hurting, including even those who show up every Sunday morning or Tuesday night. Broken-bodied, poured-out love is offered and available for all in Sunday School classes and discussion groups, in worship and the coffee hour, in prayer groups and committee meetings, in parking lot conversations and quiet moments in a corner of the narthex…Jesus is there; lives are changed.

This is holy time.

Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.

Interestingly, Jesus spoke this world-altering promise near the conclusion of a brief discussion about how to deal with broken relationships in the body of Christ. Surely somewhere along the way this fall, in the midst of the meetings and studies and conversations we now resume, something will go wrong, the fabric of our life together will tear. Even there, where some sin, some selfishness, some hurt or misunderstanding threatens to unravel our life together, even there the promise holds: I am among you. Even there the love we know from a wooden cross and an empty tomb draws near with life-changing, new-world rendering power and grace.

Thankfully, in the midst of all the busyness, the planning, the worry, the hope, the challenge, the joy, the brokenness of autumn days is Jesus, crucified and risen. These are holy days. This is holy work. Jesus is afoot.

Lent Again?!

The movie, “Groundhog Day” stars Bill Murray as an ill-tempered TV weatherman unhappy about having to cover, yet again, the annual emergence of the renowned groundhog, Punxatawney Phil from his den. While in Punxatawney, Murray’s character (also named Phil) gets caught in a time loop in which he repeats February 2 over and over and over again. Every duplication of the day is announced by his alarm going off at 6:00 a.m. with Sonny and Cher singing “I Got You, Babe.” Throughout the movie Phil travels from shock and dismay, into self-centered manipulation of the experience (and of others), through bored endurance, and, finally, into embrace of the transformation offered by seemingly endless reprisals of the day.

Sometimes moving through the church year (even weekly liturgies) over and over and over again can be something like Phil’s experience with Groundhog Day: Shock and dismay…self-centered manipulation…bored endurance…

Yet again, the alarm plays “I Got You, Babe” and Ash Wednesday approaches with its annual ashen imposition of mortality’s shadow. Yet again, we’re invited to engage six weeks worth of Lenten discipline (how many times do I have to give up chocolate, anyway?). Over and over and over we sing those dreary hymns, wonder whether Sundays are included in the fast, hear the stories of suffering and loss, worry that our congregation will do a foot washing…

It’s pretty natural for repetition to trigger everything from dismay to self-centeredness to boredom, even with something like the church year. Yet, repetition also carries promise when it’s rooted in the presence and promises of God. Hearing the stories again and again, engaging the ritualized behaviors over and over, walking the same path with Jesus and other members of his body time after time…all these and more can draw us through repetitious rehearsal into new life, transformation, and deeper engagement in God’s mission of healing and hope in the world.

Wartburg Seminary professor Craig Nessan puts it this way: What each of these ritual occasions provides is the opportunity to...articulate and rehearse what we ordinarily neglect...What we ritualize by means of the historic Christian liturgy is nothing other than the kingdom of God proclaimed and embodied in the person of Jesus…Worship affords the occasion to rehearse the role of one’s true self, a citizen of God’s kingdom [Beyond Maintenance to Mission, p. 37].

Blessed (and transforming) repetition be yours this holy season and always!

Bishop Bill Gafkjen

Passing Peace

A funny thing happened on the way to the altar...

Not many moments after I had preached on a Sunday morning in one of our synod’s congregations, as invited by the liturgy, I was moving down the center aisle of the worship space sharing the peace. As I turned this way and that offering and receiving that amazing gift among the good people of the congregation, I eventually noticed a gentle but persistent tug on the cincture (rope) hanging from my be-robed waist.

I looked around and, finally, down, to find the source: a 4 or 5 year old tow-headed bespectacled boy looking up with deep intention, his hand (the one not still holding the cincture) extended. I folded my 6 ½ foot frame to look him in the eyes. “Peace be with you,” he whispered. “And also with you,” I said, grateful for the mutual gifting his tugging evoked.

On the long drive home this experience brought biblically storied people tumbling to mind: priests hustling by a man who lies moaning in the ditch on their way to temple, a fragile woman grabbing at the fringe of a messianic cloak on the move, an alms-asker beckoning to pray-ers on their way to pray, a small boy standing among 5000 offering his boxed lunch to sate their hunger. I wonder how often I overlook either gift or need on my way somewhere else? As I look toward the horizon, the altar, the next task, whose need tugs for my attention just out of sight? Who waits patiently, persistently at my feet, by my side, to offer gift?

Turn our gaze, O Lord, to those nearby whose need or gift we will miss if we look only toward what’s ahead.
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Table Scraps by William O. Gafkjen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.