A Historic Sermon and the Quest for Christian Unity

Barton Stone, a founder of the tradition I call home, spoke of Christian Unity as our "polar star."  Thomas Campbell wrote that division among Christians was a "horrid evil."  To Campbell the "Church of Christ upon earth is essentially, intentionally, and constitutionally one; consisting of all those in every place that profess their faith in Christ and obedience to him in all things according to the Scriptures, and that manifest the same by their tempers and conduct, and of none else; as none else can be truly and properly called Christians."  Despite this heritage, even this tradition has been fraught with division. 

The church has always existed between a concern for unity and the reality of division.  A gentler way of putting it would be to say that pluralism has been our common experience.  But, unfortunately, this pluralistic experience hasn't always been gentle.  Christians have been known to turn on each other with exceeding violence.  At the same time, there have been, on a regular basis, voices of reason calling for unity.  One of those voices was Eugene Carson Blake, Stated Clerk of the United Presbyterian Church in the United States [predecessor to the Presbyterian Church (USA)], who was invited to deliver a sermon in Grace Cathedral in 1960.  In that famous sermon Blake called Presbyterians (at least the Northern Branch), Methodists, Episcopalians, and the United Church of Christ, to come together as one church.  From that sermon a movement/organization came into existence -- the Council on Church Union (COCU).  Later on other church bodies would join with those named by Blake, including the Disciples and the three African American Methodist bodies.

Keith Watkins, who is writing the history of COCU, has made excerpts of this sermon available at his blog.  I would like to invite you to check out this offering, to see what was being espoused.   It is interesting to note that Blake sought to bring together Reformed and Catholic impulses together.  He recognized the value of a common liturgy, but knew that such a thing could not be imposed.  He also recognized that if a united church was to emerge it would have to allow for theological diversity.  What he thought could be the foundation would be common recognition of ministry, suggesting that the churches embrace the principle of apostolic succession. 

What is interesting is that fifty years later we still haven't figured out how to handle apostolic succession.  My tradition, which now has a General Minister and Regional Ministers, who function in ways as bishops, struggles with the idea that these leaders have an episcopal role, and would likely find the principle of apostolic succession foreign.

COCU finally gave way to another movement, Churches Uniting in Christ (CUiC) about a decade ago.  It never fulfilled its promise, and yet it did raise the standard of unity.  Perhaps in our post-modern era, such a thing as a united church isn't necessary.  But, maybe we would benefit from heeding the call of those who came before us and raised the standard of unity.  

Keith has yet to find a copy that can be produced in full, but the excerpts are a useful introduction.  (http://keithwatkinshistorian.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/a-sermon-to-transform-the-american-church/)

Difference-Making Preaching

Except when I'm on vacation or have some other good reason for not preaching, I'm in the pulpit most Sundays.  I preach on average about 45 sermons a year, and have done so for the better part of the past 12 years.  That's a few sermons.  Some of them have been, with all due modesty, pretty good, while some have been duds.  Interestingly, some sermons that I think have fallen flat, have received the most positive comments -- and well you know the other side.  That says to me that the power of the sermon is not totally in the hands of the preacher.  Once the words leave one's mouth, we preachers must entrust them to the care of the Holy Spirit.   I think that has to be true even for the great orators amongst us. 

That being said, we preachers do have a responsibility to the text, to the recipients of our message, and to the God who has called us to this place, to be diligent in our work.  Keith Watkins has, this past week, offered a masterful essay on preaching from a progressive point of view.  Turning to a decades old preaching textbook written by H. Grady Davis entitled Design for Preaching.  In this book, written about the time I was born, Davis offers four questions for the preacher to consider:  "Is it true? Do I believe it? Will my people believe it? Even if it is true, what difference does it make?"

Keith notes that progressive/liberal preachers, especially at a time when there are an abundance of conservative theologies present and when so many eschew faith because of its supposed anti-intellectualism, work hard on the first three questions.  We are, he suggests, intent on offering something to people that is believable, so we attend to this task with great relish.  And we do this in at least four ways:

We work at this in at least four ways: 1) Discount, deny, or argue against the ideas and practices which we think are inadequate; 2) Extract from the biblical record or theological tradition those kernels of truth that we think can be believed and practiced by people today; 3) Ignore the archaic or unbelievable elements, even if they include central elements of the biblical tradition, and replace them with elements from our own time; 4) Develop each text in the light of the major Christian story.

Where we have trouble is with the fourth question.  Even if we come up with a believable message, replacing for instance an ancient cosmology with a modern evolutionary one, does it actually make a difference?  At the end of the day, have we ended up with an intellectually pleasing lecture, but not something that makes a difference in the lives of the other.  Keith goes into greater detail, offering links to longer pieces that he has written, at his blog, which I would encourage you to read in its entirety.  Many preachers do offer a dry intellectualism devoid of spiritual benefit, but this isn't true of all.

As Keith notes:

Fortunately, however, many sermons in progressive worship do focus on the life-giving center of the gospel text and on the difference that this can make. On every Sunday in progressive churches, including those intended to be something other services, the work of preachers is to speak the central story of God’s love in Jesus Christ so that people can understand and experience it. Just as we translate the gospels from Greek to the vernacular speech of people in the worshiping assembly, so we search for metaphors and ideas from the cultural world in which the preacher and congregants live to translate the Word of God into the words of the people.

Our task is to do more than simply diagnose and prescribe, but also spend time "proclaiming, professing, and experiencing."  Some of this happens in a service outside the pulpit, but "the solo voice of a preacher will continue to be the most often heard. May its message speak the living Word of God to people in a way that gives life to all who hear it."

What Keith has done here is offer those of us who preach a word of encouragement to recognize that our voice is an instrument of God.  Whether it is booming (mine tends toward that direction) or soft, whether witty or not, the encouragement here is to continue looking to make the word intelligible, but not stop there.  The goal of preaching isn't education, it is offering a gospel that transforms lives.  That is, a word that is spiritually oriented.

Why the Bible in Progressive Worship?

I must confess that my own faith journey is deeply rooted in the evangelical tradition (I am, after all, a Fuller Seminary graduate, twice over.  I may not be an inerrantist or even an infallibist anymore.  I understand that the science and the history present in the text may not be "accurate" in the modern sense of the word.  I affirm evolution as the means by which the world we know today came into existence.  That said, I still find myself unable to move outside the biblical witness.  In my own preaching I have sought to root the sermons each week in the biblical text, which is why I once sat dumbfounded in a personnel committee meeting at a former church and heard that one of the complaints was that I didn't preach from the Bible -- in conversation I discovered that what they wanted was the kind of proof-texting sermons you get in some conservative churches. 

For some Progressive Christians, the Bible is problematic.  Not only is it an ancient text but it can give support to all number of regressive views, including the submission and suppression of women, genocide (read Joshua), and slavery (remember that 19th century evangelical preachers in the south were quite adept at defending the "peculiar institution" from Scripture).  So, why not just jettison it and start over?

Keith Watkins, Professor Emeritus of Parish Ministry and Worship at Christian Theological Seminary, in his continuing series of essays on Worship in Progressive Churches takes up this very issue in this week's contribution.  He writes that the Bible "is the book with which Christian conversation always begins. It provides a set of stories, interpretations, commands, and promises that all Christians hold in common, argue about, mix together in various ways, profess, sometimes reject, and which to some degree shape everything else that we read and incorporate into our lives of faith."

Keith acknowledges that we should read and study the entire Bible "with historical, theological, and devotional methods," but we should also recognize that "some sections are more suited than others for use in public worship. The Bible is a grand epic, which in highly stylized ways, portrays the story of God’s interaction with the world, a story that begins with creation and continues with the establishing of humankind in God’s own image."  It is for this reason that he recommends the lectionary -- a device that allows for a three year tour through this grand narrative, but which is seen by some as truncating the story -- and even pulling out parts that we'd rather not deal with.  But, the point here, in terms of worship, is that the people of God hear the basic story, so that they may see themselves and God in that story.

So, he continues:

This epic tells of God’s work in history, especially with the people of Israel, and reaches its climax in Jesus of Nazareth in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell and through whom God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things” (Colossians 1:20). The Bible’s grand narrative anticipates a time, in this world and the next, when all of God’s intentions for the world and its peoples will be fulfilled.

This dramatic narrative takes time to tell, which is the underlying principle in the year-long pattern used by many churches to determine which parts of the Bible to read in their weekly services of worship. I have long been persuaded that “the ecumenical hermeneutic of the three-year lectionary,” to borrow the words of Fritz West, makes sense. Sundays feature a sequential reading of the four gospels and provide additional readings from the biblical canon that serve as a commentary on the principle text.

The ability for these words to bring us the Word of God is affected and enhanced, Keith writes, "by the way they are read, by the music and devotions that surround the reading, and by the interpretation—whether in silent pondering, sermon, discussion, other readings from non-biblical sources, or dramatic-musical form."  In other words, the reading of Scripture and the proclamation of the Word doesn't happen in a vacuum.  There is a connection, which is why I take great care in how the service is constructed.  It doesn't always work but that's the intent. 

I invite you to join both Keith and me in this conversation about the importance of Scripture to worship in progressive contexts. 

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Progressive Christian Worship -- The Starting Point

Keith Watkins is in the midst of an ongoing discussion of what an alternative worship for progressive churches might look like.  Keith is a theologically liberal/progressive Disciple with strong commitments to the historic liturgical tradition.  In setting out a starting point for our discussion, he asks whether we will start with a "music/message" position, which has been common among Protestants since the Reformation -- that is, we sing and then we finish with a sermon -- or will we choose the "Word/Table" position that has ancient roots.  Being that he is Disciple, a tradition that places great emphasis on weekly communion, it's not surprising (at least to me), that Keith chooses the Word/Table position.

In this week's post he suggests three bases for this choice.

• He notes the early Christian dependence on both the synagogue  worship practices using Torah and Prayers, which were then combined with Jesus' Table fellowship practices.
• Noting dependence on Margaret Mead, he points out that bathing and eating are basic to human life, and can become important bearers of meanings that are distinct from the actual functions of these acts.  He writes:    

It is easy to understand why the ritual bath of regeneration (baptism) and the “bread of heaven” (eucharist) are the basic sacramental forms of the church’s life. Meal ceremonies generate are used to remember the past (anniversaries and birthdays), anticipate the future (weddings), celebrate important events, delimit and manifest family and associational connections. It is no surprise that some of the most complex theological and sociological discussions in the Pauline epistles are stimulated by meal imagery in 1 Corinthians (especially chapter 11). Similar challenges face progressive Christians today.

• Finally, intertwined with this pattern of Word and Table one can find the basic theological affirmations of the Christian faith -- the nature of God, the person of Christ, sin, salvation, atonement.

Keith goes on to say:

What these three points imply is that developing an alternative way of worship for progressive churches is a specific form of the task that faces every generation, which is to inculturate Christian worship. The work has to progress at several levels: theological (how we define and explain our faith), artistic (how we embody faith and theology in rites, ceremonies, song, dance, and drama), practical (how we form and maintain communities) and missiological (how we live our faith in the world “groaning in travail waiting for its redemption).

As I read this, Keith is saying that there has been a historic pattern that provides us with the key elements by which worship can be formed, but these patterns must be re-inculturated in each new day.  Starting with this perspective one can look at what is happening today.  Much "contemporary worship" is of the music/message variety, while many mainline churches have the Word/Table pattern but remain stuck in the 1950s as far as the culture part of the equation.  By placing the focus on Word/Table, however, the emphasis is not placed on music, which is not to say that music isn't important.  I believe that music is critical to vital worship, but music supports the pattern, while not forming the pattern itself. 

You can read the entire piece at Keith's blog by clicking here.  While there you will find a link to a lengthy paper dealing with the question of inculturation that Keith wrote several years ago.  As you read this post I invite you to engage in conversation at Keith's blog and here as well. 

 

Worship and the Progressive Christian Church -- laying out a new pattern

It may seem ironic that some of the churches with the most conservative theology have the most culturally-connected "worship."   I put "worship" in quote marks, because in some ways -- as planners of church services have a tendency to do -- much of this "worship" borders on pure entertainment.  It uses all of the technology and style of the current cultural moment.   Worship in many progressive or liberal churches -- those in the old Mainline traditions -- have a tendency to be quite traditional and conservative.  The theology might be liberal but the medium is old style and traditional -- with liturgy, hymns and organs instead of guitars, free form worship, praise songs, and preachers in Hawaiian shirts.

So, what might a more culturally engaged, but theologically progressive worship look like?   I reposted a piece last week written by my friend Keith Watkins, which launches a series of posts that will engage this question.  Keith is deeply rooted in liturgical studies and treasures the ancient patterns.  But, he wants to envision what might be if we were to create worship contexts that are true to our liturgical patterns of Word and Table and yet be culturally aware. 

In his second post of the series, he takes up an address by Thomas Schattauer, the current president of the North American Academy of Liturgy.   In this address, Schattauer lists five perspectives on worship and the ways in which we formulate it:

•Recovery of historic practice toward a distinctive community witnessing to God’s purpose in the world

•Use of cultural materials toward a wider embrace of people (be it the unchurched or particular ethnic groups)

•Attention to the experience of the marginalized toward justice and inclusion of God’s reign

•Focus on relational community toward social belonging and wholeness

•Openness to the movement of God’s Spirit toward personal healing, holiness, and hope

Keith admits that his focus us been on that first perspective, but seeks to broaden it out in search of an alternative way of doing worship in progressive churches.  I'm going to repost three key paragraphs so you can see what Keith is trying to do. 

My perspectives have been deeply influenced by the first of Schattauer’s impulses: the liturgical movement. Schattauer says that its central interest is “to give the church clearer definition as a community of Christ through the focus on central practices which constitute persons in relation to Christ and to one another, most especially the reading and proclamation of Scripture, baptism, and Eucharist. Moreover, the purpose of this community in Christ constituted in its liturgical assembly is to be understood in relation to God’s purpose in the world.”

As useful as it is, Schattauer’s list gives insufficient attention to another impulse that I encounter with increasing urgency in theological literature and in conversations with church people week after week: the need to restate central Christian doctrines in ways that can be affirmed by people who have dismissed older ways of stating Christian beliefs and who are searching for believable ways of describing their faith. My early theological studies focused upon the continental liberal tradition and for a generation my closest theological colleagues were advocates of process theology. While I have only limited competence as theologian, the mood, perspective, and themes of contemporary liberal theology are important to the way I think about my life as a Christian.

My plan for this series is to propose that the classic union of Word and Table, understood in its simplest and most direct form, is the place to begin our construction of worship that is “something other.” I then will discuss each of its components, in their order as they appear in the classic shape of the service. Along the way, I will take time out to comment on specific challenges—atonement theologies in the eucharist, for example—that are especially challenging to the progressive Christians whom I meet week after week, in churches on Sundays and lots of other places on the other days.

I am deeply interested in where Keith will take this.  I have devoted considerable attention to the form that worship takes, in the hope that the worship services I help plan will bring people into the presence of God, so that they might worship God fully, and be empowered and encouraged so as to engage in the mission of God in the world -- bringing wholeness and healing to a deeply fragmented and wounded world.  To do this one must think deeply about what one is doing -- bringing theology, culture, and tradition into conversation with each other.  Theology provides the fulcrum upon which we balance culture and tradition.  It is not an easy task and requires that we attend to those who have wisdom in these matters -- even if we don't follow in every point of contention.  I invite you to participate in the discussion here and to continue over to Keith's blog, where you can read the full piece and engage him in conversation. 

Elders and the Table -- the uniqueness of Disciple experience

I asked the question -- who may preside at the Table --and noted the Disciple experience.  Unlike most other traditions, the Disciples have been known for having lay elders pray at the table and that these prayers are normally of their own composition.  Disciples have worship aids, but no official book of worship.  Due to a shortage of clergy in other traditions, questions are being asked there about how to provide the Eucharist in congregations without regular clergy -- and some of them are trying things that look a lot like what Disciples are doing.   So who are these Elders that share leadership a the Table?  They are not, as in the Presbyterian Church, a board of oversight with no place at the table nor are they clergy like the Methodists.  No they are quite different. 

As a way of helping us understand this situation I'm offering a quotation from Keith Watkins' book Celebrate with Thanksgiving (Chalice Press, 1991).

The typical patter of leadership in Disciples congregations today resembles this ancient system.   Ordinarily congregations are led by one or more ministers, who are theologically educated. occupationally full-time and salaried by the church.  Serving with the minister or ministers are the elders of the congregation, who are men and women from the congregation.  The elders serve on a volunteer basis, giving limited amounts of time, and ordinarily do not have special theological training for their work.  Disciples came to this pattern in three stages.  The early ecclesiology of Alexander Campbell called for the election of ministers from the membership of the congregation.  He used biblical terms -- elder or bishop.  One of these persons would be elected president of the eldership on the basis of superior gifts for the work.  This person would serve full time and be compensated while the other elders would serve part-time without compensation.  (p. 45).

In the next generation, congregations began to call upon young college graduates, presumably from outside the church, to serve with these congregational elders, and in the midst of this questions began to arise about the nature of this ministry -- was "he" an elder or an employee of the church under the supervision of the elders.  Over time, it became established that congregations would be served by pastors who were employed by the church and a board of elders.  The role of these elders was generally limited to praying at the table and gathering to discuss the congregation's spiritual well being.  Early on elders were ordained, for they were considered the ministers of the church, but by the mid-20th century the practice had generally disappeared.  Keith writes:  "Since elders were no longer regarded as ministers, there seemed to be little reason for them to be ordained" (p. 46).

Keith offers an alternative understanding, one that reaches back to the early days of the Disciples movement, but with revisions, that may make better sense as elders take their place at the table.  He writes:

Pastors and elders together are them ministry of the congregation.  The pastor and assistant pastors work to see that the gospel is proclaimed and the people equipped to do the work of Jesus Christ.  The justification for a praying eldership is that these men and women are united with the pastors to be the corporate spiritual leadership of the congregation.  A well-ordered congregation has one ministry -- elders and pastors acting as one body with varied responsibilities assigned to the several members.  (p. 46).

We need to break this down more, but such an understanding makes sense ecumenically, but it would assume that elders ought to be ordained and that they take very seriously their calling. 

Eucharistic Hospitality -- Oneness at an Open Table

In light of the conversation that is beginning to emerge here about worship, liturgy, and sacraments, I'm going to put up a series of posts that hopefully will continue the conversation.  As you consider these posts, I'd like to remind you to keep in mind the series of essays that Keith Watkins is beginning to post on worship for progressive churches.

I have already offered posts on "liturgical order and the nature of the church" and "becoming Christ's Body at the Table," both of which make use of material from Keith Watkins' Celebrate with Thanksgiving.   Now I'd like to take the discussion in a bit different direction and take a look at the idea of open table fellowship.  Many traditions hold that the eucharist is a sacred meal reserved for members, those who are baptized, or those who share their theology.  I do believe that the eucharistic meal is sacred and I do believe that we encounter the living Christ in the context of the meal, but I also believe that we should follow Jesus' precedent, and not close off our dining partners.  Jesus was known for eating with "sinners and tax collectors."  So, while the call for an open table is at odds with a lot of historical precedent, I believe that it is in line with the biblical testimony, especially with Jesus' own experience at the table.

Bonnie Thurston who is both a biblical scholar and a Disciple writes that "Jesus' willingness to share table fellowship with a variety of people was a way of demonstrating his love." Such actions had much more symbolic value and meaning than today, but I think it still has importance.

She writes further:

The table fellowship of the Lord's Supper was a visible manifestation of what the church, as preface to the kingdom, was to be. Here was enacted the original intention of the covenant as spelled out by the Torah, that Israel would be a community of equals under God. In the early church's thinking, the conventional barriers between people had been broken down by Jesus. As Paul wrote to the Galatians, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. 3:28). To sit down together at their Lord's Table was to live out that fellowship, to express koinonia in spite of economic, social, and cultural differences. To partake in the Lord's Supper was to be at one with Christ in his sacrifice and to share by anticipation the fruits of his passion in the messianic meal in the kingdom. But it was also to be brought into wholeness with those who would come to share that final, eschatological banquet. At his table, the Lord's people were "remembered," brought together in a visible symbol of equality and oneness. [Bonnie Thurston, Spiritual Life in the Early Church, Fortress Press, 1993, pp. 49-50]

If there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, but we are all one in Christ, then surely we can say the same today -- so that when we come to the table there is no longer Disciple or Catholic, Presbyterian or Baptist, Methodist or Episcopalian, Pentecostal or Lutheran.  Surely the table of Jesus can and should be a table of unity, a table where hospitality is shown to all. 

An Alternative Way of Worship for Progressive Churches (Keith Watkins)

With Bruce Epperly writing a series of posts on the importance of Progressive Theology, perhaps it is appropriate that we also have a conversation about worship in progressive churches.  I know of no one better equipped to lead this conversation than Dr. Keith Watkins.  Since I didn't go to Christian Theological Seminary, I didn't have the opportunity to study under Keith.  However, over the past 20 years or so, Keith and I have developed a strong friendship and have conversed regularly over the years, whether in person or in other forms, about worship.  Therefore, because of this, I have been his student and he my teacher.  Keith is now an emeritus professor, living in the Pacific Northwest, but still actively teaching us about matters of worship, ministry, theology, history (and of course bicycling) through his new blog Keith Watkins Historian.  In the post that I am republishing with Keith's permission, he lays out the foundations of what will be an extended series of posts outlining what progressive Christian worship might look like.  In a response to my comment at his blog, he makes clear the direction:  "In each entry I intend to state clearly what I believe to be the way churches like ours should plan and conduct worship. In the process, I will give a rationale supporting my proposals."

___________________________________________

An Alternative Way of Worship
for Progressive Churches
By Dr. Keith Watkins

“What you should do, Keith, is develop an alternative liturgy for people like us.” My friend made this proposal as we were driving to his home following the celebration of Holy Communion at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, California. In earlier conversations, we had talked about our frequent disappointment with Sunday morning worship in churches of our own communion. He presumed that my long career as professor of worship, and my continuing interest in progressive Protestant church life, qualifies me to develop suggestions.

During the next few weeks, I intend to offer my reflections upon these matters. My goal is to outline characteristics of the church’s definitive liturgy of Word and Sacrament that meet three criteria: shaped by the historic tradition, expressed in the culture of our own time, and performed in a manner suitable to the occasion. In this first column of the series, I give a preview by noting characteristics of worship at All Saints Church, which I believe are consistent with these criteria.

First, the celebration conveys the sense that what is going on is important—important enough for the leaders to be well prepared and skilled in the performance of their respective parts of the liturgy. The liturgy is always well staged so that the visual and dramatic character of the event reinforces the meaning of the words and actions. The principal leader was at the top of his form. Although he and other leaders expressed a sense of personal presence, there was nothing trivial or inept about their words or actions.

Second, it was clearly an occasion of public worship rather than religious lecture, concert, seminar, support group, or political rally. By using the word worship, I mean that the primary orientation of the event was toward God who was addressed in the prayers, especially the prayers over the bread and wine during the communion. The scripture reading and sermon were presented in such a way that they prepared the congregants for their parts in the words and actions of praise. By public, I mean that participation was open to everyone. Except for the informal words and parish notes midway through the service, nothing was said or done in ways that implied congregants had to be insiders in order to understand and participate.

Third, the liturgy was fully consistent with the long-standing pattern of worship that began early in Christian history and, with important revisions, has continued in most churches ever since. At the same time, the liturgy at All Saints was revised in ways that allow it to be more appropriate for congregants at this progressive church. Contrary to the Prayer Book pattern, only one Scripture lesson was read rather than three. The ancient Nicene Creed was omitted. Most interesting to me was the fact that the Eucharistic prayer was carefully modified so that it more fully manifested conditions in the world and implications of the proclamation that had preceded this part of the liturgy.

While Episcopalians, as part of the Anglican Communion, maintain the tradition that the words of the Eucharistic prayer are to be read from the Book of Common Prayer, All Saints clergy make subtle variations in the early portion of the prayer while leaving unchanged the theologically important words at the prayer’s center. An exchange of e-mails with one of the church’s clergy indicates that the modifications of this prayer are developed or chosen with great care. Although the words of the service indicate an immediate awareness of current conditions, there is nothing left to chance in what was said and done.

Fourth, the style of the event was consistent with the geographical and cultural location of this church. All Saints Church is located at the very heart of Pasadena, California. This wealthy, politically important city east of Los Angeles is the center of major educational institutions, including Fuller Theological Seminary, museums, governmental buildings, commercial activities, and major churches. In some ways, this part of Los Angeles County, with its leaning toward politically progressive convictions, is the counter balance to politically conservative Orange County. Several years ago, a National Public Radio program featured All Saints in Pasadena and Saddleback Church in Mission Viejo as contrasting versions of churches that are appealing to younger, unchurched people in Southern California. All Saints Church appears to be advancing despite the malaise that marks many progressive churches. One reason is the skill with which the classic liturgy is adapted to the congregation’s natural constituency.

Fifth, the liturgy conveyed a sense of movement and energy. In part, this was because the order of service expressed the theological logic of the historic liturgy. The pacing, staging, language, and music of the morning were chosen and conducted in such a way that everyone was moved forward to a dramatic finale in communion. When we left church that morning, we felt as though we had actually done something that moved us from spiritual malaise to a sense of union with the God who comes to us in Jesus Christ.

Keith Watkins is a historian and theologian who has devoted his life to the study of worship and the the practical life of religious institutions. His graduate studies in Berkeley (Th.D. from Pacific School of Religion) focused on nineteenth-century liberalism and American religious studies. During his 33-year career at Christian Theological Seminary , he specialized in the history and theology of Christian worship. His books Liturgies in a Time When Cities Burn,    Faithful and Fair: Transcending Sexist Language in Worship, and The Great Thanksgiving: The Eucharistic Norm of Christian Worship, which illustrate this interest. His continuing interest in religious history is evident in his 2009 book A Visible Sign of God’s Presence: A History of the Yakama Christian Mission.  His blog, Keith Watkins Historian can be found here. 

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Liturgical Order and the nature of the church

I posted a rather long piece the other day from Keith Watkins' book Celebrate with Thanksgiving (Chalice, 1991) on becoming the body of Christ in the eucharist.  Continuing that discussion, I'd like to raise the question of whether the way we order worship, especially in regards to where we place the Word and the Table, says something about how we view the nature of the church.  In essence Keith asks fellow Disciples whether they are a "bible-centered church, colored by eucharistic piety?" or are we a "sacramental church, braced by the Word of God?"  How we structure worship speaks to which of these two options we have chosen.

He notes that two patterns have emerged among Disciples congregations, with each implying a "distinct understanding of worship and doctrine of the church."  Beginning with those congregations that place the communion early, prior to the reading of the Scriptures and the preaching of the sermon, with what he refers to as an "intensified communion interlude," Disciples churches expressed a view of worship that is "consistent with non-sacramental Protestantism,"  where the church is seen primarily as a "community shaped by revelation in the form of doctrine and ethics."

This word-centered revelation presents the gospel of salvation through Christ, and it leads to the transformation of life.  Nevertheless, the main focus is what Christians are to believe and what they are to do about that belief.  (p. 20).

This version of worship, is often rooted in revivalism -- we gather at the Table, because that's what Disciples do, but the most important thing is making the pitch so that people can get saved.  It is a popular style of worship among congregations heavily influenced by church growth teachings.

On the other hand there is the version that places the communion at the end of the service.  In this view, "worship is understood as the Lord's Supper interpreted by the Word of God" (p. 20).  Keith goes on to write:

This idea is consistent with the sacramental approach to worship that marks the catholic impulse in Christianity.  It emphasizes God's self-disclosure in nature and history, asserting that salvation comes from participation in a community that embodies the divine Spirit.  This participation is by means of sacramental eating and drinking with God.  (pp. 20-21). 

Perhaps it's a remnant of my Episcopalian background, but I find myself -- as is true for Keith -- on the side of a sacramental understanding of worship.  I believe that Word and Sacrament belong together.  Although you don't need a sermon, necessarily, you do need the Word, even if it is the text of Scripture read, to give substance to what happens at the Table.  Although Disciples aren't a creedal people and thus there is room for differing views of what happens at the Table and who Jesus is for us, the Word read and proclaimed provides the starting point for what happens in the encounter that we have with the Living Christ at the Table, an encounter that is embodied in the elements of bread and wine and the gathered community. 

In the churches that I have pastored, we have always placed communion at the end of the service.  Thus, if I must choose, I see us being a sacramental church not a bible church.  The Bible provides the interpretation and the guidance, but we come to church not to encounter the Bible, but to encounter Christ our Lord, who meets us at the Table and then sends forth to minister in the world in which we live.  I simply don't know how this happens if communion comes early on, and then the sermon and invitation. 

Becoming Christ's Body in the Eucharist

There are Christian traditions that believe that when consecrated the elements of bread and wine/juice become the body and blood of Christ.  There are other traditions that believe that the bread and wine are merely memorials of Christ's death and burial.  For those of us who are Disciples of Christ, there is a tendency to take a memorialistic perspective, one that emerged largely in reaction to the more literalist understandings of the real presence of Christ in the eucharistic elements.

There is another way of looking at the eucharist, one that holds on to the idea of presence without locating that presence in the elements themselves.  The idea here is that the presence of Christ is found in the body -- that is the congregation.  And the congregation isn't simply the institution of the church, but the gathering of the body of Christ around the Table. 

In a book published nearly 20 years ago, Keith Watkins explored in some detail the patterns of prayer at the Table.  He did this so as to challenge Disciples to examine their practice so that the meaning of the meal can be understood and lived out.  Too often our time at the table is sloppy and irreverent, but more importantly our practice often has little theological grounding. 

Among the implications that Keith notes in his connection of the eucharist to the doctrine of the church as body of Christ is that "in the celebration of the eucharist, the congregation becomes what it already is:  Christ's body."

He goes on to define what this means (I'm including a rather extended quotation from Keith's book Celebrate with Thanksgiving):

The way that the Sunday service is structured and the contents of its several parts are the means by which this realization takes place.  Congregants assemble from their separated lives in the world.  The order of worship focuses their attention upon God and upon God's love and justice.  Despite the distractions and sins that have accumulated during the week, worshipers are drawn once again into the orbit of God's redeeming love in Jesus Christ.  They listen to readings from scripture that tell the stories of God's work long ago.  They hear a sermon showing how God continues to work in these same ways in life today.  By now, the people have been welded together again into a strong and unified assembly.  They are now ready to bring their life in the world more directly into God's presence.  In the prayers of thanksgiving, confession, and intercession the people remember what has taken place as they have tried to live faithfully through the week.  All is offered God with the entreaty that God's will for creation and all it's creatures will be fulfilled.

The intentions of these prayers are also expressed in the the physical elements that now become the focus of the service.  Offerings of money and the bread and communion-wine for the eucharist are brought to the table.  Together these emblems depict the natural world of "blood, sweat, and tears," and of wheat and grapes, now converted into new forms.  The labors of natural life become the substance of purposeful life in families and communities.  The foods of the earth are converted into bread and wine, manufactured products that increase their nourishing properties and our joy in using them.  All of these meanings are compressed into the procession that brings these elements to their place upon the holy table.

At this point, the congregation and its leaders approach God in prayer.  They tell the story of God's creative and redeeming work, the story that reaches its climax in Jesus' death upon the cross and everlasting life wit God.  They express in words their sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving that the entire service seeks to present to God.  They ask that Christ's life in them be renewed and that they be strengthened to be the body of Christ in the world.  They they receive back the bread and communion-wine as sure signs that God has heard their prayer and will answer it.  At this point, the eucharist is complete and the church has once again become what it already is:  the body of Christ.  (Keith Watkins, Celebrate with Thanksgiving, Chalice Press, 1991, pp. 38-39). 

As you can see it's not just the prayers or the elements, but the way that the service itself is formed that helps provide the context for the congregation to become the body of Christ at the table.  As I read this, I realize that our practice at CWCC doesn't mirror everything that is present in Keith's discussion.  We don't have the procession of the elements nor do we have prayers of confession or of the people.  After the sermon I offer a Pastoral Prayer, something that has emerged over time and has largely replaced the other forms of prayer.  We have a prayer at the offering and we have a prayer for the elements.  But the basic order is present, as we move toward a climax at the Table, for it is there that community gathers to receive a sign that Christ is present in their midst.  I'd like to invite a conversation about ways in which we can strengthen our practice at the Table so that we might become more fully the body of Christ on earth.

A Sermon Church?

Yesterday our worship at Central Woodward Christian Church included both Word and Sacrament.  There was music (the choir finished out the year with style and verve) and there was prayer, but standing at the center was Word and Sacrament -- a sharing in the reading of Scripture, a sermon, and the Lord's Supper.  The Disciples are a Table-Centered church.  But we are also a Word-Centered church.  Even if there isn't a sermon per se, there will be something that brings the Word to the community.  It might be simply the reading of Scripture with a few comments.  It might be a sharing of testimony, or the sharing of the word through song.  But in some way or form the Word is presented, for without the Word the Table loses context and meaning.  You see, we Disciples have a rationalist streak in us so we want to understand what we're doing.  We're okay with a bit of mystery, but within "reason."

I offer this up as a way of introducing a posting by my friend Keith Watkins.  Keith has been biking (human-powered version) his way up the East Coast, and shares observations that emerged from a conversation with a woman who is Presbyterian and experience at a Disciples Church where he worshiped while on his journey. 

Keith notes that while this woman's Presbyterian church is a sermon church, the same can be said for the Disciples tradition.  Note Keith's observation:

To my surprise, I heard the kind of sermon my cycling companion from the big city may have had in mind. It was grounded in an important text from the Sermon on the Mount–Matthew 5:21-43–and was imaginatively adapted to contemporary times. Instead of being an exhortation telling people that their church had to change, this sermon was in the indicative mood. It included a careful explanation of what it means for all of us to live in a post-modern, post-Christendom period of time.

It was refreshing to hear such a constructive set of important ideas in an ordinary sermon, on an ordinary Sunday, in an ordinary church. It was twenty-one minutes long, delivered with animation from a manuscript, a little rough around the edges, but for me, at least, a compelling message.

Especially interesting is the fact that this preacher was also a young woman who obviously believes that serious preaching about important ideas still has a place in churches that want to appeal to a post-modern generation living in a post-Christendom world.

Keith concludes by saying that while the congregation might not see itself as a "sermon church," that is what it was for him that day. 

With Keith's comments as context I'd like to raise the question of the role of the sermon in worship.  Should we be a "sermon church"?  Some would say that the monologue that is a sermon is a dying art form, and thus ought to be abandoned in favor of other forms.  Indeed, many "contemporary" churches have taken the lead of Letterman or the latest motivational speaker, and have abandoned the traditional sermon.  

As we consider the role of the sermon, who does it relate to worship and to the Sacrament of Communion?

Localized versus Centralized -- questions of practical church polity

Does progress take place in the church from the top down or the bottom up?  Is localism or centralism the hope of the future?  What is it that links us together?  These are some the ecclesiastical questions that come up regularly in our common discussions. 

I grew up Episcopalian, which in theory is a highly connectional tradition.  But, of course, the American church has strong democratic elements that aren't present in other parts of the church (see Diana Butler Bass's recent piece in the Huffington Post).  This can be good or bad, of course, depending on your perspective and on the issue at hand.

I happen to be part of a rather loose fellowship of churches joined together in covenant relationship -- we use the word covenant to define our relationship with entities beyond the local congregation.  We're congregationalists in many ways, and yet we seek to be more than mere congregationalists (at least some of us desire for this to be true).  Keith Watkins, who like me, is part of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), has written a piece that deserves some attention.  Keith, who is the father of the current General Minister and President of the Disciples -- Sharon Watkins, points us to an article that looks at the current crisis within the Anglican communion, especially as it relates to the ordination as bishop, Mary Glasspool, who is a Lesbian.  

Keith considers the question brought up by an article in the Anglican Theological Review, that asks:   "Have 'the Congregationalists Won?'"  Keith writes sympathetically about the concerns by many that the connectional systems are breaking down and churches are doing their own thing -- if they don't like what they see, they walk.  Keith notes that in many cases the Localists are not pushing for change, they want things to stay the same.   Keith, is of course, a Disciple and he prefers a bit looser polity than the Episcopal community allows, but he wonders:

The movement toward the local, however, is often inspired and empowered by people who are determined to preserve an existing church culture rather than open it to the new, as is seen in many of the parishes now leaving their dioceses. I am inclined to believe that Killen’s congregationalists—perhaps localists is a better word—have more often held back progress and that new ideas and incentives to try them have tended to come from the more connected parts of ecclesial networks.

For me, and for many other people in the churches, the apparent victory of the localists is therefore not a happy development. It means that the gospel and its implications for life in the world are more likely to be no larger than what we and the people immediately around us are able or willing to understand and accept.

Throughout the church’s history, one resolution to this problem has been expressed by the idea of covenant. We bind ourselves to one another with promises of respect and loyalty. Our mutual allegiance to a common center—faith in Christ, commitment to the Scriptures, shared history—is declared to be enough to keep us together despite the strains that come over time.

The problem is that covenantal understandings of our ecclesiastical relationships can be tenuous, subject to the degradations of our own perspectives. 

So, how do we wrestle with the issues of the day without falling prey to a coercive centralism or the tyranny of the local?    And, by the same token, how do we maintain the unity of the body of Christ in the midst of this conversation? 

I invite you to read the entire piece on Keith's blog and engage in a conversation both there and here. 

Religion in the Land of None

Having grown up in Northern California and Oregon, I have a good sense of the religious proclivities of the people of the region.  Catholics, Mormons, and Pentecostals (of the 4 Square variety), do well but the rest of us, not so well.  But even there, they make up a small percentage of the population.  Oregon, Washington, and Alaska make up a section of the country where the non-religious have always thrived.  It's a land of individualism.

Keith Watkins, who has guest posted several times here, has written a post that invites conversation.  Keith is a religious historian, expert in the area of Christian worship, and father of the General Minister of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  He notes a presentation awhile back, at which a presenter noted the demographics of the region.

In Oregon, Washington, and Alaska, 37.2% of the population can be called adherents; they claim connections with a church and participate enough to be counted. A slightly higher percentage, 37.8%, are identifiers who claim to belong but do not participate. The rest are nones: people who make no claim at all to religious affiliation. A high percentage of them, however, affirm that they are interested in spiritual matters.

Note the numbers -- nearly 40% identify but don't participate and then 20% don't belong to anything.  And yet, this doesn't mean that they're secularists or rejecting the spiritual, they simply don't desire to do so in conventionally communal ways.  This, has, of course always been the way of the West, but the question is:  to what degree is the rest of the nation following this path? 

To read more of this, click here and join the conversation at Keith Watkins Historian. 

Theo-Politics: The Kind of Talk We Really Need (Keith Watkins, Guest Post)

Keith Watkins, Emeritus Professor of Parish Ministry and Worship at Christian Theological Seminary, father of the Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins, General Minister of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), and a friend, has launched a new blog -- Keith Watkins Historian.  I'm reposting his latest effort, a review and response to Andrew Bacevich's The Limits of Power.   Bacevich works with Reinhold Niebuhr's ideas, ideas that Keith reflected on in an earlier post.  I hope you will engage with this piece and make Keith's blog a regular stop -- whether you're interested in history, theology, or cycling!

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Theo-Politics: The Kind of Talk We Really Need

By Keith Watkins

How can religiously inspired ideas enter into political discussion so that theology transcends sectarianism and yet continues to be intellectually and emotionally potent? Often, this question has been answered by secularizing the discourse so much that theology virtually disappears, or by limiting the topics for which theology is allowed.

In The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism, Andrew J. Bacevich illustrates a better way. Using Reinhold Niebuhr’s writings as foundation, Bacevich translates a distinctively Christian theological view of reality into a public language that can be used by people who do not affirm Christian faith.

Niebuhr’s two principles were realism, which “implies an obligation to see the world as it actually is,” and humility, which includes the obligation to see ourselves “without blinders.” Hubris, realism’s enemy, “finds expression in an outsized confidence in the efficacy of American power as an instrument to reshape the global order.” Sanctimony, humility’s enemy, “gives rise to the conviction that American values and beliefs are universal and that the nation itself serves providentially assigned purposes.” Because realism and humility are in short supply today, Bacevich declares, American life and America’s role in the world are deeply flawed.

Bacevich uses the idea of freedom to explain the deep problems of American domestic affairs and world policy. Our mindless pursuit of freedom has led to its distortion and diminishment. The “central paradox of our time”—the exercise of freedom that demands that we fight around the world—undermines our capacity to fight, jeopardizes our freedom, and aggravates the disorders affecting our political freedom.

The result is that America faces crises in economic, political, and military affairs, each of which Bacevich discusses provocatively, as might be expected since he is both a retired military officer and professor at Boston University.

Half of the book analyzes political and military issues, but as a religious person I am most interested in his chapter, The Crisis of Profligacy. “For the majority of contemporary Americans, the essence of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness centers on a relentless personal quest to acquire, to consume, to indulge, and to shed whatever constraints might interfere with those endeavors.” In addition to its negative impacts upon personal character and well being, this quest has created a powerful and mostly negative impact upon foreign policy and American relations with the rest of the world.

Between 1979 and 1983, Bacevich writes, Americans made a fateful choice. “They could curb their appetites and learn to live within their means or deploy dwindling reserves of U.S. power in hopes of obliging others to accommodate their penchant for conspicuous consumption.” During this four-year interval, “bookended by two memorable presidential speeches,” Americans chose the latter, making these years “the true pivot of contemporary American history, far more relevant to our present predicament than supposedly decisive events like the fall of the Berlin Wall or the collapse of the Soviet Union.”

In July 1979, when many were insisting that threats to America came from external powers, President Jimmy Carter declared that “the real danger to American democracy lay within.” He identified an American “crisis of confidence” as “an outward manifestation of an underlying crisis of values.” In a speech delivered on March 23, 1983, President Ronald Reagan announced his Strategic Defense Initiative. In earlier speeches, he had countered Carter’s glum analysis, but in this one Reagan proposed that America had to become invulnerable and that technology could achieve that goal.

“Carter had portrayed quantity (the American preoccupation with what he had called ‘piling up material goods’) as fundamentally at odds with quality (authentic freedom as he defined it)…In Reagan’s view, quality (advanced technology converted to military use by talented, highly skilled soldiers) could sustain quantity (a consumer economy based on availability of cheap credit and cheap oil).” Carter lost both the presidency and the argument. Most Americans have embraced the Reagan view and since then we have moved ever deeper into a morass with no exit in sight.

In his concluding chapter, Bacevich reaffirms his thesis that power is limited and he again calls Americans to realism rather than idealism. We should turn our attention to the two meta-challenges” of our time: “nuclear weapons and climate change.”

What Bacevich is arguing makes sense to me. The world is big enough for everyone, so long as each of us lives modestly—loving our neighbor as we love ourselves, all within the larger context of loving God with heart soul, mind, and strength.

Power, Virtue, and Common Sense -- (Keith Watkins)

My friend and mentor in all things related to worship and church, Dr. Keith Watkins, Professor Emeritus of Parish Ministry at Christian Theological Seminary, has launched a new blog -- Keith Watkins Historian:  Religious Historian; Aggressive Cyclist.  He will be posting essays that cover matters of religious history, practical theology, and cycling.   Keith is the author of a number of important books, including The Great Thanksgiving:  The Eucharistic Norm of Christian Worship (Chalice Press, 1995).  I offered to re-post some of his essays to introduce his new blog to readers.  I hope you will follow the link to Keith's blog and become a follower.  In this essay, Keith picks up the question of power as analyzed by Reinhold Niebuhr in his The Irony of American History.

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“The most important book ever written on American public policy,” if we can believe Andrew J. Bacevich, began as lectures delivered on college campuses shortly after the close of World War II. The lecturer was Reinhold Niebuhr, a professor at Union Theological Seminary in New York, and his speeches were published in 1949 as The Irony of American History.

President Obama is well versed in Niebuhr’s ideas, which may be one reason why the University of Chicago Press has reissued the book, sixty years after its first appearance. It has a new introduction by Bacevich whose 2008 book, The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism, draws extensively upon Niebuhr’s work.

Niebuhr’s organizing motif is irony, which he describes as a situation with incongruities that on the surface seem unrelated, but upon closer examination are closely tied together. “Virtue becomes vice through some hidden defect in the virtue,” and “strength becomes weakness because of the vanity to which strength may prompt” the person or nation that is strong.

Applied to American life, irony comes in two patterns. First, the good in American life—our scientific developments, our emphasis upon the dignity of every person, our freedoms, our preeminence in world affairs—carries with it unrecognized tendencies which, if allowed to develop unchecked, undercut or destroy the good. Second, certain elements of American society that are undervalued or scorned—the young, the deviant, the culturally dispossessed, the uneducated—possess within themselves the possibilities of contributing new strength that can make the nation better.

Irony helps us understand that America’s necessity to exercise power carries with it the inescapable development of guilt.

Niebuhr’s illustration is the threat to use atomic weapons after World War II. As Americans, we had always thought of ourselves as a most innocent and virtuous nation, but after the war we also found ourselves the world’s most powerful. We were custodians of the most destructive weapon ever developed, and we could not disavow its use in order to maintain our virtue. Yet if we had used it, we would have covered ourselves with a terrible guilt.

For Americans, the irony is that “the greatness of our power is derived on the one hand from the technical efficiency of our industrial establishment and on the other from the success of our natural scientists. Yet it was assumed that science and business enterprise would insure the triumph of reason over power and passion in human history.” We know that this assumption was (and is) ill founded.

The ironic dimension of American foreign policy helps us understand current efforts to protect the world from forces that threaten freedom, dignity, and life itself. The exercise of power has been defended as the action of a nation that believes in freedom and wants to extend it to people around the world. Yet, the defense of freedom, supported by a significant body of intellectual analysis, has led the nation into preemptive wars in the Middle East.

Not only has this warfare brought violence and suffering; it has also caused our military forces to engage in actions that emulate many of the most coercive tactics of those whom we battle in the name of our superior freedoms and way of life.

Toward the end of his book, Niebuhr writes that in America common sense trumps theory. Truth “becomes falsehood, precisely when it is carried through too consistently.” Common sense prevents both of the primary theories (Niebuhr calls them wisdoms) now operating in America from being carried through to their logical conclusions.

Niebuhr writes as a theologian, often drawing upon the Bible in order to show the ironic point of view in full operation. His book is a splendid example of how theological ideas can be brought into public discourse in ways that transcend sectarianism. Social policy and political action would be improved if more of our public discourse were of this kind.

In the nation’s capitol and in legislative assemblies around the country, let this be remembered: Carried too far, held until the bitter end, our virtues become vices. When we are most certain of ourselves, those things we demean or despise may lead to positive change.

Niebuhr is right. A renewed awareness of the ironic character of American culture and politics could allow common sense to trump our ideologies again. The result: foreign policy and political action at home would both be much improved.

Keith Watkins Historian

Professor Emeritus

Christian Theological Seminary