It never ceases to amaze me...

Well, you'd think that I had said all that I have to say about churches and their Communion Tables.  And yet...

Yesterday was World Communion Sunday.  When I entered the sanctuary of the church I have been attending, the Table (at least it was on the platform, centered between a pulpit and a lectern) had a world map propped up across its front and small placards on the top, each bearing the name of one of the globe's continents.  I guess geopolitical notation must have something to do with World Communion Sunday, but for the life of me, I don't know what that might be.

Do you know what the perfect, the ultimate symbol for World Communion Sunday might be?  It is a bare table with the Body and Blood of Christ occupying its surface all by themselves.  Anything else takes away from the significance of the day.  A table with the elements reposing on it is free of distraction, devoid of indecipherable symbols and totally lacking in paraphernalia that needs interpretation in order to be comprehended.  What's the Table for?  Communion.  Where is it situated?  in a church.  For whom is the church and its sacraments intended?  The Body of Christ -- all of the children of God.  How does one enhance the significance of such?  It can't be done.

Bad worship symbolism is somewhere between confusion and heresy.  It's no wonder that United Methodists (yes, this table was in a UMC sanctuary) have so much trouble with their identity or with establishing what it means to be a part of the UMC in the twenty-first century.  

I believe that a lot of the Table-related "stuff" I have discussed recently is a result of poor thinking -- or no thinking.  We get back to the "appointments" versus "decorations" controversy.  I would have hoped we were past that by now.  

I'll be honest with you, a Communion Table with a placard on it that says "Antarctica" befuddles the life out of me, World Communion Sunday or no.  

I just don't get it.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Lessons while at table

 

Luke 14:7-14 reads:⁷ When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. ⁸ ‘When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; ⁹ and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place”, and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. ¹⁰ But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. ¹¹ For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’
 
¹² He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. ¹³ But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. ¹⁴ And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’
 
I could spend a lot of time commenting on the concept of “Table” as it appears in scripture.  The Bible uses the term over 150 times.  The beginning and ending of such a survey is what we now call The Lord’s Table.  By any estimation the table is a significant place.
 
So, Jesus has some practical advice regarding table behavior here.  We are free to take it at face value.  “This is how you act when someone invites you to their table.”  “This is how you conduct yourselves when you invite others to your own meal.”
 
At another level, Jesus extends rabbinical instruction for the living of our lives.   There are a couple of wrinkles in all this that I am trying to work out.  For instance, in the opening verse Luke states that Jesus “told them a parable.”  But literarily, there is no parable.  There is no “Who among you…” or “There was a certain man…”  the lack of proper identification does not negate the importance of these instructions.  But there is no way to construe these sayings as constituting parables.  I have found no reference work or listing of the parables of Jesus that includes this passage. 
 
In Luke 8:4-15 the gospel writer records the so-called Parable of the Sower.  When his disciples ask for the meaning, Jesus interprets it as an allegory: the seed has a particular meaning, as do the various kinds of soil and the weeds and the birds.  A parable makes a single point.  An allegory has multiple symbols within its narrative.  This is to say that upon occasion scripture may give a label such as “parable” (which sometimes merely indicates “story”) when the form is that of another kind of literature. 
 
So, to seek out the single thrust of a piece of illustrative material can sidetrack us in instances such as the text before us.
 
Another point with which I contend here is Jesus’ counsel in the first section.  He seems to be upholding humility: But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place…  That seems to be consistent instruction for those whom Jesus teaches elsewhere to be servants of one another or to carry no provisions for the road when his disciples embark on a missionary journey. 
 
But, look at what happens when Jesus finishes the thought: “…, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, Friend, move up higher” then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.  There is not much humility or servitude in that.  The motive for the instruction to go to the foot of the table is so that the host might extend an invitation to ascend to a position of greater honor.  There are some who interpret this to say that disciples should spend their lives humbling themselves and moving to the figurative foot of the table so that their exaltation might be their inclusion in heaven.  There may be some helpful advice there, but to offer it in this manner is a bit of a stretch.  If the point of all this is genuine humility, I would expect the person who sought the place of least honor to refuse the encouragement of the host.  “No, no, I am fine here.  Let your more important guests sit in the places of honor.”
 
I am not criticizing Luke – or Jesus!  I am confessing that I am grappling with this text, seeking to come to a satisfactory conclusion regarding the instruction.
 
I’ll have more to say later.
 
The Peace of the Lord be with you.

But, the Bible says...

 

Luke 13:10-17
 
¹⁰ On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, ¹¹ and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all.  ¹² When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.”  ¹³ Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. ¹⁴ Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue leader said to the people, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”  ¹⁵ The Lord answered him, “You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water?  ¹⁶ Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?”  ¹⁷ When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing.
 
I could spend a lot of time reflecting on the modern world’s approach to the quasi-Sabbath.  Christians worship on Sunday, the “first day of the week,” the day in which Jesus rose from the tomb.  The historic church transferred a lot of Sabbath sentiment from the Old Testament to its current practice.  But, in the strictest sense, anyone who treats Saturday (the seventh day) as a regular day or a recreational day and then spends all day Sunday in church is still a Sabbath-breaker.  There is no way around it.  So, as I look at this passage from Luke as it informs our faith practice, the calendar considerations are inconsequential.
 
Some might say that Jesus coincidentally encountered this woman and healed her, and that Sabbath had nothing to do with it.  That is naïve.  The observation that the synagogue leader makes abut six days to work and the Sabbath to rest is spot-on.  If Jesus hadn’t come across this unfortunate woman, he would have found some other deed of mercy to perform.  He is obviously intentional in this work.  Luke prepares us for that in his opening words.  He begins, “On the Sabath…”  There is not reason to include that if it is not important to the narrative. 
 
And look at what Jesus does.  He addresses a woman, a stranger, in public, which in itself is counter to Jewish direction.  He touches her, which is again a taboo.  Then, he speaks his word of power and heals her.  This is not a tale about calendar.  It is a declaration that love trumps law. 
 
Yes, this healing act is intentional.  Yes, it is premeditated.  Yes, Jesus goes into this act with his eyes wide open, appreciating its consequences.
 
I see Bible-thumping conservatives cherry-picking from a handful of out-of-context verses and using those isolated lines to say, “Look at them (not us); they, THEY are sinners and enemies of God and people who have no place among us!”  At this point you can pick your cause, because haters use these passages like Legos, popping one cause out of the base and snapping another in place.
 
Jesus says, “No.”  This woman may not be a leader of the synagogue, but she is a daughter of Abraham.  That gives her a place in the realm of the redeemed, the community of those made whole by the grace of Jesus Christ.  Jesus held no truck with people who drew lines and erected fences.  He says to the children of Abraham – literal and spiritual – “I have a place for you.”
 
People counter, “Yeah, but… how about people who…?” and Jesus says, “Everybody.”  “But how about folks that…?” “Everybody.”  When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated.
 
Now, there are folks in today’s world who have built up a thick enough skin so that they are pretty difficult to humiliate.  They make an idol of their hate and intolerance.  Jesus caused this woman to stand up straight.  The first thing she did, the FIRST thing she did, was praise God.  I don’t know how anyone can make their hatred more important than that.
 
The peace of the Lord be with you.

Monday morning coffee

 
Picture this scenario: a group of pastors is having coffee together on a Monday morning.  A Baptist minister says, “I woke up Sunday morning and found a note from my wife on the kitchen table.  She has left me and is putting divorce proceedings in motion.  I told my church officials about it and they replied, ‘Divorce, huh?  That’s rough.  We’ll need you out of the parsonage by the end of the week.’ ”  What am I going to do?  No Baptist church in the world will take on a divorced minister.
 
A congregational colleague says, “I feel for you, brother.  My people met me at the door of the church after service yesterday and said that they just didn’t like the cut of my jib.  I don’t know where I’m going to find another congregation.”  How do I go about finding another spot?
 
A third pastor adds, “My Finance Committee told me Sunday evening that times are tough.  They are going to have to cut my salary by a third.  I’m not getting any younger.  How am I going to set anything aside as a next egg on so much less money?”
 
They turn to the fourth member of the group – a United Methodist – and say, “How about you, Brother?  How do you deal with these things?”
 
“Well,” replies the pastor, “I am a United Methodist.  While we don’t encourage divorce, in our church that doesn’t automatically disqualify a person from the ministry.  We also have guaranteed appointments for our fully-credentialed clergy.  If a congregation gets so dissatisfied with us that they demand our removal, we have another place to go.  And, we have a guaranteed minimum salary and fully-funded pensions for our preachers.”
 
There is quiet around the table for a few moments.  Then, simultaneously, the first three ask, “How do you get to BE a Methodist preacher?”
 
I wish I could say that this is fanciful.  But, the roster of United Methodist ministers is chock full of pastors who have come in from other denominations for reasons that have nothing to do with personal theology or the practice of mission and ministry.  They have found what they consider to be a secure spot for the rest of their active careers.  They are still Baptist or Congregational or whatever they used to be.  And, they preach and teach and administer the affairs of the church as if they were in their former communions.  They are (United) Methodist in name only.

And a lot of these wolves in sheep’s clothing have been at the forefront of the recent disaffiliation movement within The United Methodist Church (UMC).  I say this not out of speculation, but as a result of first-hand observation and conversation.  The church hasn’t properly vetted or suitably held these pastors accountable, but have been set them loose on congregations that were vulnerable to the self-serving leadership of these folks.
 
So, we have lost countless congregations, and maybe even multitudes of souls, due to the lack of vigilance on the part of our church.  We have diluted our Wesleyan heritage and our Methodist theology for the sake of administrative convenience.  How many disaffiliating congregations have been led down that path by pastors who did not grow up in the UMC? 
 
We have paid a terrible price for expediency.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Another Communion Table

I understand that some might say that I am obsessing.   That is an observation that it is becoming harder and harder to dispute.  For those who haven't previously heard my rant(s), I have a huge issue with the above graphic.  It is the Communion Table located within a United Methodist church building in which I recently worshipped.  I once again recall the words of James F. White, a giant in the realm of United Methodist worship and in the worship reform movement in general:

        Show me a church that has an open Bible 

        on the Communion Table 

        and I'll show you a church that doesn't use either one.

This is beyond mere "style" or "preference."  The image above is no less than than an idolizing of a Bible.  I hesitate to us the word idolatry outright, but I would be greatly interested in a dialog with someone who claims that the label does not apply.  In recent posts dated July 14 and 16 I made my case.  But, I go to another church and see the same practice again.  I have to ask, "From what does this practice arise?"

Researching this practice is difficult, and one is hard-pressed to find any positive recommendations for this display.  There are some authorities that report that having a Bible on the Table is a Reformed practice, but a history of the custom is sketchy.  Within those communions there is currently more than a little  discussion concerning the idol-worship aspect of the practice, particularly as it relates to the impression it makes on non-Christians and those who are new to those churches.

My own belief is that it is a confusing method of appointing a sanctuary at best.  With an open mind, I ask, "What does a church say by doing this?"  Does the Table of the Lord become a display stand?  How is this particular Bible, removed from both lectern and pulpit, employed in worship?  What does this mean practically to worshipers who gather in the presence of this arrangement?

One of the worst of arguments falls under the heading of "Decoration."  Proponents would say, "Well, it just looks nice.  It's pretty.  It shows a respect for the Bible."  First, we DO NOT decorate our worship space.  Those things that appear throughout the room are appointments.  We "appoint" our sanctuaries.  That is not to say that these appointments might not also be attractive.  But they are not there because of their aesthetic value.  They serve -- individually and collectively -- to point the worshiper to God.  How does an open Bible propped up on a space that should be reserved for the Body and Blood of Christ fulfill that function?

And, I circle back to, "Where does this come from in the first place?"  I am afraid that in some churches it was a matter of someone desiring to place a memorial -- a memorial of their choosing -- in the sanctuary.  An open Bible out where everyone can see is a weekly reminder of the honoree and the giver.  Because the donor is influential or wealthy a Board of Trustees or pastor or worship committee or altar guild gives in to this travesty in the name of not making waves.  I'm sorry, but I see the spinelessness or ignorance of clergy as being a major factor.  (I have a separate rant reserved for that topic -- watch this space.)

In terms of the visual, the particular Bible can sit front-and-center and be a distraction.  But, what better optic than to have that same Bible on the lectern or pulpit and have the preacher/liturgist/lay reader physically open the book, turn to the desired place, and begin to read, concluding with, "This is the Word of the Lord!" ?

That's powerful.  That takes that copy of scripture out of the realm of the static and places it dynamically in the center of the worship assembly.

We have no way of establishing uniformity in the worship of The United Methodist Church.  There is no governing document or standard set of "best practices."  And even when our Book of Worship (or Book of Discipline!) makes a suggestion, churches and clergy feel free to ignore what they don't like, or don't understand, or what they think might ruffle some feathers.  The sign outside our buildings says "United Methodist Church," implying that our historical connection means something.  And it does somewhat when we are looking to find a new preacher or grudgingly pay our Connectional Giving.  But we have become stunningly congregational, with churches and clergy saying -- overtly or by implication -- "I'll do what I want to.  No one is going to tell me what to do."

And we end up with pictures like this.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Teach us to pray

 

The Gospel Lesson for the seventh Sunday after Pentecost according to the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) is Luke 11:1-13.  The reading begins, He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.”

 
This fascinates me at a lot of levels.  One of the striking points is the nature of the request.  By chapter 11 the disciples have seen Jesus teach insightfully from the scriptures, exorcize a demon, heal the sick, grant a great catch of fish, cure a man afflicted with leprosy, make a paralytic well, restore a man’s withered hand, teach in parables, healed the servant of a Centurion, raise a widow’s dead son at Nain, calm a storm, drive a legion of demons out of a man in Gerasa, performed other healings, raised the daughter of Jairus from the dead, fed five thousand people with a handful of loaves and fishes, exorcised another demon, and instructed people with further parables.
 
That is quite an impressive roster of activity.  Imagine hearing Jesus unlock the truth of the Bible in a way that they had not heard before.  What an extraordinary thing to be able to overcome storms and illness and even death.  The disciples of Jesus witnessed all of this – and more.  Yet, when they approach Jesus collectively, they ask for instruction in one thing.  It might be that they would desire to learn how to heal.  Think how much they could accomplish with that knowledge.  We would understand if they expressed a desire to learn how to multiply a little food into enough to feed a great number.  Hunger in that region would be a thing of the past.
 
But when they approach Jesus, they don’t ask for any of these things.  Instead, they make only one request.  They say, “Teach us one thing.”  To pray.
 
In Luke’s gospel, the prayer life of Jesus is central.  Jesus frequently withdraws from the commotion of people, even removing himself from his disciples.  His prayer is intense and lengthy, sometimes lasting all night.  He prays at times of great significance in his ministry.  He prayed at the time of his baptism.  He prayed before selecting The Twelve.  He prayed before leaving the comfortable setting of familiar places and setting out on his travelling ministry.  There would be other examples subsequent to this reading.  But, the prayer life of Jesus made a deep impression on his disciples. 
 
Let’s be clear: prayer is communication (or communion) with God.  It is coming into the presence of the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.  Jesus demonstrates that there is a way to do that, and a way not to do that.  Prayer is not giving God a laundry list of things we want done.  Earnest, fervent prayer is primarily an activity of listening.  When we DO speak, it is an event of gravity.  I hear people pray about, or report on praying about, some of the most trivial things.  I would ask anyone, if you were physically face-to-face with God, would you still spend your time asking for good picnic weather or for help in finding a desirable parking space?
 
When Jesus prayed, he asked things like, “How can I be more faithful?  When I am gone, who are the people in whose hands I should place the care of the church?  To whom should I take this gospel message?”  Jesus prayed big things.  And, while not always comfortable, he received big answers.
 
The disciples of Jesus come to him and say, “Lord, we have seen you heal sickness, overcome death, calm storms.  So, Lord, teach us to pray.”
 
This may be one of the greatest marks of discipleship.
 
The peace of the Lord be with you.

Where do I begin?

 

You may be familiar with the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL).  In a nutshell a lectionary is a table of prescribed scripture readings for each Sunday of the year.  A more expanded lectionary may have readings for individual days of the year.  Lectionaries have been in use throughout the history of the church.  In some denominations the use of these readings is mandatory, though in most communions use of a lectionary is an option.

The RCL lists readings for Sundays and Special Days over a three-year period.  There is a lesson from the Old Testament, a reading from the Psalms, a portion of one of the Epistles, and a pericope from the Gospels.  Churches that employ the RCL can plan worship well in advance, and can easily involve multiple participants in the worship preparation.  This facilitates the work of musicians, liturgists, those who work with visual arts and others who labor together in the organization of worship. 

When planners use the RCL they do so knowing that other churches and denominations embrace this tool as well.  It is not unusual for people to fall into conversation mid-week and find that the worship in their churches mirrored the experience of other congregations as the several Sundays' activity centered around the same lectionary selection.  There is a Christian unity in such moments that spreads beyond individual church walls or the bounds of a particular denomination.

Those who utilize the RCL can easily find resource materials that relate to a particular day’s reading.  Preachers who make some kind of commitment to following the RCL avoid repeating sermons on their favorite passages over and over again.  I have observed that, in my own preaching, if left to my own devices and desires I would probably end up preaching from the Sermon on the Mount about 45 Sundays out of the year.  So, as regards the RCL, it would be safe to say that I am a fan.

I say all this in reflection of my attendance in worship the last couple of weeks.  I have been worshiping in various locations since my retirement, hoping to experience different takes on worship after having been in a leadership role for so long.  In the last two churches I attended, neither congregation followed the lectionary.  I wouldn’t say that a church “must” or “ought” to pursue that path, but I can’t help but ask “Why?”  Secondary to that query is the question, “How?”  What I mean by that is I wonder what the decision-making process might be when each week the preacher begins with a blank sheet of paper.  The lectionary user knows what the suggested text will be for next week, and next month, and next year.  I would find that blank page intimidating.  Those who do not follow the RCL sometimes consider me lazy.  That might be a fair point.  But, after making a decision on the text, we all begin (or take the next step) from the same place.

Now, there are exceptions.  Circumstances may dictate a departure from the lectionary, of course.  When the Twin Towers fell, or when the Covid-19 pandemic first hit, some of us took an alternate approach to the sermon in those days.  That is part of being a pastor.

But, in the normal course of things, I can’t help but wonder what gets preaching – and worship planning – kick-started.  There are seasonal considerations.  In liturgical churches the preacher would gravitate to those texts that we traditionally associate with certain seasons.  I would be hard-pressed to find a justification for preaching the Parable of the Prodigal Son on Christmas Day.  So, if a leader embraces the cycle of Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and Pentecost, that preacher can make some decisions more easily. Congregational circumstances have a voice in the preaching decision.  The local church stewardship campaign, a significant congregational anniversary, the school term and the season of graduation might inform the direction a particular Sunday might take.  A death in the faith family or a tragic accident might prompt pulpit reflection. 

I suppose that sometimes the preacher might desire to scratch a homiletical itch.  Gossip, immorality, dissention, political bickering, economic depression and other circumstances might spur the preacher to an address from the pulpit.

I am good with all this.  But, in the churches where I have worshipped recently there was none of any of this.  I was present on garden-variety Sundays where there were no discernable winds of need blowing around and arbitrary texts were at the center of the worship.  “Why?”  “How?”  I can’t help but wonder.

It would be insensitive of me not to allow for genuine Divine Inspiration.  A preacher with a blank page might honestly say, “As I began the preparation process for Sunday’s sermon, I started as I always do, with earnest, fervent prayer.  In the course of my praying, I perceived that God was directing me toward this particular text.”  The preacher might also contend that the preacher  engages in a conscientious discipline of Bible study, and that sermons grow out of that immersion in Holy Writ.  How do I argue with that?  Such a response clears up “why? And “how?” pretty efficiently.

I hope that in the congregations with which I have worshipped these last weeks that this has been the case.  I would love to fall into conversation with the preachers and get their take.  But I probably won’t get the chance.  So, I’ll be content with my questions.

For now.

The peace of the Lord be with you.