A Day to Re-Member
It’s not, of course, that I’m opposed to worshipping God. Personally, I’ve come to look forward to weekly times of worship. I find an hour and twenty-four (okay, twenty-six) minutes of praise, prayer, and reflection quite tolerable–even enjoyable. (That’s not something I would have said in the days of my youth when I spent much of the worship service calculating the lenght of each song and prayer so that I could have an accurate countdown to the final “Amen”).
Even so, as a worship planner and leader, I get nervous when a service goes long. I’ll be sitting there in the front row anxiously checking my watch, sneaking glances around at the congregation, thinking about the Sunday School teachers who have rooms to prepare, the older folks who need to catch a bus to get home in time for lunch, the visitors who might wonder why the preacher talks so long or we sing so many songs.
That being said, it should be acknowledged that there are many Christian traditions–both in the United States and around the globe–that would have been astounded by the brevity of Sunday’s service. (Only an hour and twenty-four minutes?! Imagine that!) Sunday morning, in between glances at my watch, I couldn’t help but think of a story I heard about one of those congregations.*
I can no longer recall all the details, but the story goes that a Presbyterian from a predominantly white congregation in the Midwest attended a black church in the South one Sunday. The Presbyterian took in the service with wide eyes. The dancing in the isles, the impromptu riffs on the organ that punctuated the preachers point, the shouts of “Amen” and “Hallelujah” from those standing around him–none of those things were a part of his normally reverant and mildly exubarant worship experience. But perhaps the most astounding thing to this Presbyterian was the length of the service. Two hours in and the preacher had yet to begin his sermon. Three hours in and he wondered if he’d be out in time for lunch.
After the postlude, when one of his fellow worshippers asked him what he thought, the Presbyterian straightened his tie and, with uncharacteristic bluntness, declared: “I just don’t understand why we had to go so long! “ That’s when one of elders in the group smiled, reached out and touched his Brother on the shoulder, and gently explained: “All week, people puttin’ us down. They tell us we ain’t worth a thing. Tell us we’re no good. So Sunday, we come to church and we worship so that we can learn to see the straight again. It takes a long time to learn to see straight. Takes a long time to be assured that we’re worth something, that we are children of God. That we are loved by him…”
I like that story because I think it helps see the gift of active Sabbath observance. As I tried to say on Sunday, many of us come to church every week feeling like we haven’t accomplished enough well enough. We feel dehumanized, worthless, degraded after busy weeks working, producing, consuming. We are taken apart by the messages we’ve heard all weak from others–or even ourselves. But when we practice Sabbath, we remember God and his grace. And when we remember God and his grace, we are re-membered. That is, we are put back together, made whole, renewed.
And when I look at it that way, it seems like going a few minutes “long” isn’t all that bad. Sure, it can be a little inconvenient for everyone (even preachers). But what a gift to come into God’s presence and take some time to re-member!
*This was a story I had considered including in my sermon but (perhaps ironically) cut for the sake of time.
Questions Worth Asking
I don’t remember many worship services from my childhood days. But I do remember communion Sundays. I remember them because they were infrequent in those days (six times a year, I believe). I remember them because the service was sure to go long (10:55!). I remember them because I loved to look down the long pews of our sanctuary and see arms lifting and heads tipping in one beautiful, unified motion as the adults in our congregation received the body and blood of the Lord. Their unity in that moment reminded me of the way bows would move together in an orchestra.
But the other thing I remember about communion is peering at the shiny silver trays as they passed me by. Sometimes I would get to touch them or help pass them. But usually not. In the CRC in which I was raised, the Lord’s supper was something for adults. Children were not invited.
As I’m sure many of you know, discussion in recent* years in the CRC has suggested that we change that. Synod has now suggested that it’s okay–even important–for children to participate in the Lord’s Supper. But this makes some of us (understandably )nervous. After all, we’ve “always” done things this way. And if was good enough then, why isn’t it good enough now?
Well, I have my own answers to that question. But I’d like to help all four of you who read this blog come to your own conclusions. So here are some questions I think you need to answer for yourselves in order to develop a theologically informed position on this matter.
- Our discussion ought to start with baptism: What actually happens to a child in baptism? What’s the main event? How does baptism relate to membership in God’s family (if at all)?
- What is the relationship between baptism and communion?
- What are some of the central “happenings” in the Lord’s Supper (I assume there is more than one)? Is it primarily an act of remembrance on our part? A way for God to nourish us? Something else?
- To phrase the previous question another way: who is the primary actor in the sacraments? Is the Lord’s Supper (and for that matter, Baptism) something that God does for us, or something that we do for God?
- What is the relationship between the “old” signs of the covenant (i.e. circumcision and the Passover Feast) and the “new” signs of the covenant (Baptism and the Lord’s Supper). Does the place of children in these “old” ceremonies suggest anything about their appropriate place in the “new”?
- What “body” is Paul referring to in 1 Corinthians 11? How might reading this passage as referring to the “body of believers ” affect what we do at the table?
- How does the gift of the Lord’s Supper strengthen us and build us up as followers of Christ? How might it do the same (or be different) for our children?
I think this ought to be enough to get you started. If you’d like to read what (I think) are some well thought out answers to these questions, as well some questions you may not have thought to ask (like the history of this issue) check out the latest issue of the Calvin Seminary Forum. (Also available at church. Ask me if you’d like a copy.)
*Walt A. , our expert on all things syndoical and church order, informs me that this discussion has actually been going on for over twenty years. That’s long enough that I actually could have participated in the Supper as a child if my church had been up to speed on the latest Synodical decisions.
