The church at which I am playing tomorrow still uses The Lutheran Hymnal (TLH). My home church, by which I mean the congregation of my childhood and youth, also uses TLH. I have a feeling neither of them will switch anytime soon or even not-so-soon. That does not matter, however.
There’s been much talk of one’s grandfather’s church. I admit that the Missouri Synod of today does not look like the Missouri Synod of my grandfather’s day; then again, neither does the world of today look like the world of my grandfather’s day. What then? Should we make the church of today look like the world of today? Well, did the church of my grandfather’s day look like the world of my grandfather’s day? I can’t say positively, as I was not alive then; nor is my grandfather alive now to ask, but I’m guessing the answer is no.
My grandfather fits into “The Greatest Generation”, while I am a Gen Xer. The Gospel is still the Gospel for me as it was for him as it was for the disciples. Do times change? Sure. Does worship change? Sure. Do we have to throw everything from the past out? Sure—uh—wait—no, we don’t.
The disciples did not throw out the practices of their fathers, Luther did not throw out the practices of his father, nor should we toss out the liturgy. Here’s the rub: too many people (especially the Baby Boomers, sorry guys) are too eager to either hang on to tightly or toss. I think it’s a throw-back from the sixties (again, I was not alive then, so I can’t positively say). In the sixties it seemed to be either “question authority” or its antithesis. Carry that forward to the church.
History without understanding is as ignorant as no history at all. Worship practices without understanding is similar. When I was a youth and there was no Higher Things to set me straight, I thought that the church WAS my grandfather’s church and not for me; therefore, it should be scrapped. Bring on the drums, the guitars, the praise choruses, get some verve and vigor in the door. I didn’t understand the liturgy, even if I had had it memorized since I was five or six.
Today I hope I know better. I have more understanding about liturgy and worship. I can recognize the difference between Christocentric and egocentric texts. I vaguely comprehend the lack when it comes to the theology of glory. I’m not saying I’m a know-it-all (although others might assert that, but that’s another story). I guess all I’m saying is that to be pointlessly stuck in the past is little better than being pointlessly stuck in a place that’s “relevant”.
God’s Word is always relevant. Worship is always relevant. It is the reason we practice what we practice that is the issue. If we don’t know why we do what we do, we run the risk of being stuck somewhere we don’t want to or should not be. This is why some congregations are opening themselves up to any whim of worship to coerce people in the door. This is also why there are some congregations who “have always done it that way” and always will. Even Shirley Jackson warned us against this in her story “The Lottery.” We need to move beyond the rock throwing.
Consider Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. He knew when to hold to tradition and when to budge. It was adiaphora to allow his daughter to circumvent the matchmaker. It was not when his middle daughter married outside the faith. I know I sound as though I sit solidly on the fence. Let me assure you: I know on which side I am. Christ crucified is what I confess; the doctrine of the church is to what I subscribe; the liturgy as it has been handed down to us from our forebears is what I practice. I am trying to say in a prolonged, sort of way (which will probably get misinterpreted because I’m not as pithy or witty as some) that there are some churches who want nothing more than to claim to be on the conservative/confessional bandwagon, when really they merely like their old hymnals just fine, thank you. It’s not the same. Even McDonalds adjusts to the time without compromising their heritage. Just teach your people the truth.
Whew!
5 days ago
3 comments:
I think you said it very well. What used to literally be my grandfather's church--or at least, the congregation of which he was a member for most of his life--took their back pews out so that the praise band would have room.
And I would never have thought of that comparison to Fiddler on the Roof. Brilliant! (I played Mendel, the rabbi's son.)
My dad always said to be like Tevye--he prayed constantly. As I watched the play again this summer, it struck me how the whole foundation of his life was crumbling, and faith was all he had; still, he knew what was give-up-able and what was not.
So, how was it being the character all the girls wanted? :)
It would have been cool, had Mendel actually ended up with someone. He was too much like me at that age--lots of promise, but little action!
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