Liturgical renewal

Another in the series: Stories from Somewhere by me, Ken Gray
An index to other stories is here

“God be with you.”

“Oh Lord, not again. ‘God’ is so archaic. Surely ‘source of all being’ is better, more relevant, inclusive, and pleasing to the Divine.”

“But you just said ‘Lord.’ There’s a problem there pal. Pate-ree-ark-al.”

“It’s just a turn of phrase, something like ‘howdy friend,’ or ‘TaDa!”

“Sure. I know; ‘If it pleases, must be Jesus.’”

The morning’s officiant had uttered only four words of greeting and already congregants were stirring at this the first shared ministry service of the year, this one with a special purpose. More voices jumped in.

“Things were simpler when we limited our worship language to texts printed in the old dark green worship book. ‘God’ was there, and everyone understood who and what we were talking about.”

“For sure; ‘God’ is ‘doG’ spelled backwards” some wag offered.

“Never thought of that.”

“If we can’t say ‘God,’ then what can we say? Seriously, how many people are offended by any mention of you-know-who, or you-know-what?”

“I saw a bumper sticker the other day. It said: ‘What if the hokey-pokey is what it’s all about?’”

“You know what . . . I’m going to go with ‘God be with you” the minister decided. So here we go . . .”

“Actually, ‘here-we-go’ is pretty good when you think about it. I know one leader  who always starts with ‘gosh, it’s great to be here,” and finishes with ‘where do we go from here.’ Anyway, let’s not get stuck on what we say. Let’s think about congregational posture. Should we stand, sit, or kneel? Maybe we should raise our hands in the air; let’s have some fun and stamp our feet.”

“Here we go again. I saw a comedy routine once, where one person in church would stand up when everyone else sat down. Then the reverse happened; when the first person sat down everyone else stood up. It’s a funny routine, like a sort of poorly synchronized swimming, but without a pool filled with water.”

“The Good Book says we should ‘stand in the presence.’”

“It also says that Satan will be released after 1,000 years in order to deceive the nations. I think he just got out of jail, free, right here, right now.”

“All right, I repeat, feel free to sit, stand or kneel” as I tried to continue. “What about singing? What shall we sing, and from which book? Red, White, or Blue? We are fortunate to have so many options.”

“My eyes are blue so let’s go with that one, the old book with the incredibly small print, in which all the tunes are pitched high and paced slow, very S*L*O*W.”

“Absolutely not” someone cried. “I really, really prefer the Red book. As a symbol of a  failed church union project, it contains two tunes for many texts. So it’s really versatile.”

“And confusing; very confusing. Also the orange-red colour looks like a left-of-centre national political party.”

“Alright; forget those two. Let’s use the White book” I decided. “Lots of really progressive stuff in there — Songs for angels and anglers; chants for Fins and fiddlers — very multi-cultural, or is that inter-cultural? We’re a global church now; let’s sound like it.”

“Uh maybe not. Many of our congregants don’t know their way to the city let alone to the airport. We’re local here, and proud of it.”

“Buy local; live local; taking a stand for sure. So what about expression? Shall we raise our hands? Or clap? How about . . . wait for it . . . dancing.”

“What do you think we are? Baptists? I don’t think so.”

“Personally, I think we should revert to Latin, a supposedly ‘dead’ language that no one uses anymore. So we all approach it with equal ignorance. Kyrie eleison, Gloria in excelsis, Agnus dei. These words go deep.”

“You may have a point there. That said, should we gather in the morning or the afternoon? Timing is important, isn’t it?”

“Let’s not forget about daylight savings time. Where are we with that anyway? I thought we were getting rid of it.”

“Like we are supposed to get rid of fossil fuels; not gonna happen.”

“Or getting rid our mayor. A disgraceful performance at the town hall meeting the other night.”

“May I remind you, all of you, that is why we are putting this service together. We wat to help our community, and our churches, through difficult times — Community building; celebrating the common good; singing together; praying together” I feebly offered.

My group cheer fell on deaf ears. While we gathered together in one room, we certainly weren’t on the same page where worship was concerned. By this time, we had accomplished absolutely nothing, a demonstration, par excellence, that we cannot collaborate on anything. It’s pathetic. We should be ashamed of ourselves. We need to insert a rite of confession early in our service: We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs that fall from your table, O great spirit. Or should that be ‘great pumpkin?’

With a heavy heart, an aching head, and a hungry tummy I could stomach this farce no more. I had seen the light — it was time to go home. Actually . . .  I did see a light . . . floating through my bedroom window. White light; warm light; blue sky. A new day stirred; one eye opened; the other joined it. What time is it? Was this a nightmare? Or a dream? Either way I am glad to wake up, not exactly refreshed — coffee will help with that — I no longer called out “God be with you; I’m going home.” It’s “God be with me; it’s a new day; who knows what will happen next. Let’s all rejoice in it.”  And this I will.

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