Inconsistencies

We humans can be really hypocritical inconsistent.

1.  Some Mormons once told me they were forbidden to drink any coffee or tea, because caffeine was addictive.  The restriction, which I believe was universal, i.e., not specific to a ward/district, excluded herbal tea, which is not tea, strictly speaking, and which contains no caffeine at all.  On the other hand, Mormons were allowed to drink hot chocolate, which does have caffeine.

Hmm.  And we won’t even get into the rather blatant, blasphemous inconsistency presented by the very existence of the Book of Mormon.

2.  As I understand it, Amish citizens are ruled by local bishops, at least in some respects; some of the rules do change by the district/area.  I know of one Amish man who agreed to advertise his repair business through a local community theater, which was at the time producing The Sound of Music.  Leaving alone the generally wholesome nature of this particular show — it ain’t Gypsy or Rent, after all — I found interesting the connections between racial/religious persecution (well known in Amish history) and the Alpine area from which this Amish man’s family originated.  He had no prior conception of the show, but there developed a conflict.  His decision to advertise in The Sound of Music program was overruled by his bishop; the man retracted his ad, but generously, strangely allowed the money to remain in the hands of the theater organization.

Hmm.  Didn’t want to be associated with something in print, but allowed his money to support the enterprise.  It’s commonly known that Amish folks are forbidden to have telephones as communication devices in their homes, and yet some are allowed, by special dispensation.  Telephones are either tools of the devil or not, right?  Amish folks do not have electricity, yet they run hot water heaters on diesel fuel.  So many inconsistencies.

Please know that these paragraphs are not intended as a special indictment of the Amish.  We live near quite a few of them and consider one family our friends.  All the Amish I’ve ever interacted with are pleasant, charming, industrious, decent people.  Although they attempt to live devotedly plainly and unspotted from the world, they are, in another way, quite like the rest of us:  they are inconsistent and have some really silly rules.

3.  Churches of Christ are notorious for disallowing women from participating in certain roles.  One particularly striking, stark example is that, traditionally, women do not serve the elements of communion while standing and passing the trays from row to row.  However, women almost always pass the trays from side to side on a given pew.  Perpendicular service is not okay, but parallel service is?

Hmm.  Contrast the above lack of opportunity to serve with the frequent identification of church women as very good cooks who serve wonderfully at congregational meals.  In one case, we forbid serving, and in another, we essentially require them to serve.

Inconsistent?  I think so.

I see another inconsistency in the common notions of “Sabbath”:  despite the biblical fact that there is no Christian Sabbath — it was a Jewish thing with no documented, post-Pentecost manifestation — we look down our noses at those who rake leaves or wash their cars (do laundry? wash dishes? pick up toys?) on Sunday, and yet we have church staff who are required to work on the same day.  Here, we could eradicate church staff altogether and solve the problem,  :-o   or we could at least stop holding tenaciously, with what I tend to take as false piety, to an a-biblical idea.

What are some other inconsistencies found within Christendom?

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Recently my blog has attracted a dozen or so regular followers who don’t appear to have Christian underpinnings.  I’m glad for these new readers.  But I’m sometimes embarrassed about the inconsistencies seen within Christianity.  Those from without can see them; why can’t we see them from within, and make adjustments in our thinking and practice?

Names (2) — nondenominationalism everywhere?

I once delivered a full-length sermon on the topic “the denominationalism within us”—to the horror of several siblings who had some wool shreds near their chins and noses (the wool’s having been pulled down from above).  Born ‘n bred as nondenominational Christians, they were more than offended to be accused of being denominational.

Now, most church groups don’t fear denominationalism at all and in fact find the denomination “nest” quite homey.  Leaving alone the issue of that false comfort for now, I merely want to say that the Church of Christ has for decades employed a set of terminologies that discourage honesty about structure and identity.  Disingenuously, it has in some circles used a lower-case “c” on “church,” as if to say, “we’re not a denomination,” all the while using the oddly fashioned term “church of Christ” in precisely the same way as the Methodists use the initials “UMC,” Baptists use the term “Baptist,” and Catholics use the pretentious label “The Church.”

Yes, Virginia, there is denominationalism within the Church of Christ.  There is no doubt about this.  Despite not having an earthly headquarters (a plus in many respects), any real system of ordination (a plus in most respects), a general conference (a plus in all respects), etc., “we” are a Yellow-pages-identifiable religious group that has a name.  That makes us a denomination, period.

Leroy Garrett tells of the early concerns with naming in the Restoration Movement:

Once the Stone and Campbell movements united and became one church, a story I shall be relating, they settled the name issue by calling themselves by both names, Christians and Disciples, and their congregations were variously known as Disciples of Christ, Christian Churches, and Churches of Christ. It was unusual — a church with three names! The cruel irony is that once this unity movement betrayed its own heritage and divided into three churches, a sad story that I will also relate, each of the churches ended up wearing one of the three names, and for the most part only that name.

I still heartily reject “Methodist,” “Catholic,” “Baptist,” “Lutheran,” etc., as having anything to do with anything eternally significant (although they are in some contexts valid, helpful descriptors).  In the last case:  I find it patently irreverent to name with a human’s name a group that purports to claim allegiance to Jesus as Messiah, so “Lutheran” and “Wesleyan” and “Swedenborgian” are right out.  The epithet “Methodist” speaks of a way of Christian living, and as many believe to have been the case with the first use of the term “Christian,” it was originally derogatory.  “Baptist” is much more biblically based but also belies a sectarian, human philosophy or set of practices.  “Catholic” is, etymologically speaking, less provincial than all the rest in this paragraph, but that label, of course, carries with it centuries of apostasy, strongly suggests the Roman hierarchy, and gathers with it whole nationalities, ethnicities, perversities of both living and doctrine, not to mention weird habits like Bingo nights.  A trunk full of junk like this represents major baggage that no one should carry.  Better never to use the common adjective “catholic” without clearly explaining it as meaning “universal.”

I perpetually find myself with mouth agape when I see evidence that human allegiance can still be paid to these human labels, or to any like them.  Although denominational loyalties seem far weaker than they were years ago, they are still with us.  People consider themselves “Methodists” and “Episcopals” and “Assembly of God” more than “Christians.”  Not being one for mob mentalities, I don’t get it.

But again:  what is it to be Christian?  I grew up thinking it meant “Christ-like.”  I don’t think that’s as helpful a definition anymore, though.  In the sermon referred to above, I defined “Christian” as I would define “Bostonian”:  the suffix “-ian” designates one who is of something, possessed by something, belongs to something.  A Bostonian is of Boston and in some sense belongs to Boston.  A Christian, likewise, is of Christ, possessed by Christ.

The definition of “Christian” is infinitely more important than affiliation with any denominated subgroup within Christendom.

Next:  ecumenism

The Lord’s Supper–(mis)conceptions 2

[In the ARM (American Restoration Movement), we have a lot of conceptions around the Lord’s Supper.  Some of these are only decades old; others are a couple of centuries old, and others may be older than that.  Some, I’ll flatly suggest, are misconceptions.  Please see yesterday's post, and perhaps this one and this one, for prior, framing material]

I have for years taken exception to those ARMers who try to suggest that the reference to “breaking bread” near the end of Acts 2 refers to what we think of as the Lord’s Supper.  (Please stay with me to the end of this post.)  In verse 42, many of “them” have said, it is the “Lord’s Supper” being referred to, while virtually none of “them” would have said “breaking bread” in v. 46 has the same event as its referent.  That inconsistency is galling.  It’s the same expression, penned by the same writer, in the same book, and in the same immediate context.  How could it possibly mean anything different the second time?  Whatever “breaking bread” means in v. 42 must be what it means in v. 46.

Moreover, the nearly amusing (to us, at least, two millennia later) incident wth Eutychus has shown to some that it was very important to Paul and to the disciples there that they have “the Lord’s Supper” together.  Some, however, have conveniently ignored the second reference to breaking bread after midnight. Without checking other time references in Luke-Acts, I would suspect that Luke reckons time as the Greeks would have, not as the Jews would have; if this assumption is correct, you have these Acts 20 Troas folks meeting on Sunday evening and observing “the Lord’s Supper” on the 2^nd day of the week, after midnight. Or, perhaps, you have them meeting to observe the Supper and then having a six-hour sermon and then observing “the supper” again.  I don’t really think either of these expresses full truth.

What if there was a table fellowship that they all looked toward, and there was a special significance on the first day of the week, when they remembered Jesus’ body and blood in a special way?  What if they did this twice at Troas (Acts 20)?  Or what if the ceremonial remembering didn’t actually occur at all that night, because of the near-tragedy with Eutychus?  Had they erred¹ religiously (here I’m intentional with the choice of “religiously” over “spiritually”) and displeased God, simply because they didn’t observe a ceremony?  Isn’t communion more than ritual observance?

At this point, I would formally put forward the notion that the “Lord’s Supper” might never have been conceived by Jesus or by the Father in the way that most of us have conceived of it through the years.

I do absolutely think He wanted us to remember him in a focused way at the table.  But I also think he wanted us to participate in table sharing for its own sake, because of what such sharing of food and conversation can create among us, pausing during the meal to remember his sacrifice especially, through bread and vine juice.  Pardon my bold speculation, but I doubt He particularly prefers the stoic observances that are the rule these days in liturgical and non-liturgical churches alike.  The dis-integrated experience of bread and thimbleful of vine juice, while looking at the backs of others’ heads or at Bibles or while praying silently, whether in silence or with “special music” being offered, has very little to do with the communion practiced by Jesus at the Last Supper or with that He wants for us today.

Alan Knox’s minor flaw, by the way, was semantic and was found in his summary calculations–that certain phrases were used X number of times to refer to “the Lord’s Supper.”  The term “the Lord’s Supper,” I think, throws us off the scent.  It is not what we think of as “the Lord’s Supper” that’s the issue.  Instead, it is the nature of the Christian assembly that deserves a serious look (which is consistent with how I read Alan’s overall thrust).

Let’s eat together more often.  In homes, preferably.  In the church building or in restaurants, if necessary.  But let’s eat together, and let’s be spiritually minded enough not only to bless the food in the name of God, but to remember—specifically and intentionally, during the meal—the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus.  In doing this, the “supper” (or lunch or brunch or whatever) can become “the Lord’s” in a very meaningful way.

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The Lord’s Supper–(mis)conceptions 1

In the ARM (American Restoration Movement), we have a lot of conceptions around the Lord’s Supper.  Some of these are only decades old; others are a couple of centuries old, and others may be older than that.  Some, I’ll flatly suggest, are misconceptions.  They are no greater misconceptions than Roman ones in this area, and they don’t use the fabricated term “eucharist” or consider that metaphysics are disturbed by clergified incantations (i.e., “transubstantiation”).  But consider, for example, on a lower level, the ideas that the Lord’s Supper is …

• to involve a thimbleful of grape juice and a morsel of cracker
• to be observed in quietude
• to be observed in the morning (“Supper”? morning?)
• to be observed no less than one time per week, necessitating evening “mini-communion” with the Sunday morning absentees
• to be observed no more than one time per week
• to involve a single cup, or is
• to involve multiple cups
• to involve trays (and pews, and people who pass said trays through the people in said pews)
• called “The Lord’s Supper” when that phrasing is used only once in scripture (and no other phrase is much more prescriptive)

Non-ARM readers may be going, “Huh?” to most of the above.  Dyed-in-the-wool ARM readers may also be going, “Huh?” (but for different, more closed-minded reasons).  We have had such a legalistic view of “the Lord’s Supper” that we’ve manufactured and bought little communion “kits” in which can be packed a little cracker and juice, so shut-ins and convalescing members can eat and drink.  (Talk about a sacramental view!  “If only I can eat a morsel and drink a trickle, I will receive grace!”)

Yet it’s our problem more than theirs.  We ambulatory ones are the ones who’ve perpetuated it.  Do those who care for shut-ins in this way eat and drink with them, or do they think, “Wait . . . I can’t do that again . . . I already did that earlier today ‘at church’ . . . I’d better not do it again”?  Do they make it a mini-communal experience of some sort, or do they just shove the cracker toward the bed and tenderly hold the nonagenarian’s head up so she can sip the juice, thinking somehow that the substances are grace-giving?  Wouldn’t it be better to do away with this morsel model and have a small group meeting with the shut-in person as church, experiencing more of the whole of the Christian assembly, and also eating and drinking “at the table,” including the memorial bread and juice.

What about the common ARM practice of having mini-communion on Sunday evenings for those who were sick or traveling or at work on Sunday morning?  Some congregations have the formerly missing congregants come to the front pew while the congregation sits (im)patiently and tries to feel simultaneously devoted, all the while going “umm … did this already in the morning … wasting my time now … uh-oh, bad attitude … back to trying to feel devoted.”  Others have the people stay where they are and raise their hands if they want to be served by people passing the trays.  Even more churches have the folks leave the assembly hall and go to some little room elsewhere.  If they’re off by themselves, they’re certainly not communing with the whole gathered body, and perhaps are feeling more familial with the few … and at least you don’t have the weirdness of having 96% of the people in the sanctuary twiddling their thumbs … which certainly isn’t very communal.

The thinking around one cup has probably had entire books written on it, and Catholics and a small subsect of ARMers agree on that aspect.  I’m not very interested in this scruple, although if germs weren’t part of our world, I’d probably prefer the unifying aspect of the same cup.  As it is, I simply can’t fathom how so many people can be satisfied with a wiping of the rim of a cup with a dirty rag and then drinking after someone else.  Onward….

I’ve greatly appreciated Alan Knox’s writing on this subject.  I have found only one minor flaw in his particular blogpost that probes pretty much all the scriptures that might relate to this topic.  One of his conclusions has been that “When the Lord’s Supper is mentioned in Scripture, it is mentioned in the context of a meal.”  While this appears true from the Last Supper through to Jude, where the plural agapais (usually translated “love feasts”) is found in a single instance, I would take minor exception to the term “the Lord’s Supper,” because it has come to connote, for many, a ceremony that seems worlds apart from the essence of that which on Alan (and Paul and Luke and Jesus) were really discoursing.

Tomorrow:  “breaking bread” in Acts, and a challenge to conceive of “the Supper” anew

Capitalization and denominationalism

Through the years, there have been several positions I’ve held that have later been altered.  Others have remained constant.  One of the more meddlesome, persistent opinions–both in my heart and in the eyes of others, I think–has been that the practice of decapitalizing[1] the letter “C” on the word Church in its proper-name appearance is silly.

Some church bulletins and letterhead paper, and even references to congregations in denominational newspapers and journals will appear like this:  “The Main St. church of Christ held a gospel meeting,” or “The East Side Baptist Church, the New Life Community Church, and the West Ave. church of Christ contributed 5 cans each to the Community Food Bank last month.”  I’ve written a few “letters to the editor” of the Christian Chronicle on this topic, and a couple have been published.  (The current editor seems to have cleaned up the  editing on this point!)  The more narrow, dyed-in-the-wool CofCers still don’t get it, though.

I imagine it’s difficult for those from other religious traditions even to begin to understand how this practice developed.  In order to comment on this, I’ll leave today with a quote from John D. White, found in a book called Restoring the First-century Church in the Twenty-first Century.

Once upon a time, it was almost a dogma that “churches of Christ” had to be spelled with the lower-case “c” on the word “churches” to prove that we were a movement, not a denomination.  Tricks of spelling, however, do not disprove the thoroughly denominational status of that recognizable body of churches that may be denominated “Churches of Christ.”  The real name in-house of the denomination is “the brotherhood”–who’s in, who’s out, whose preacher gets invited to speak at the Christian [c]ollege lectureships, etc.  A more formal institution with elected denomination officers, headquarters,  official print organs, and certified educational institutions would be more denominational only by a matter of degree.  Informal structures may well be stronger than formal ones.

What do you think about denominations, speaking either from common sense or from scripture?  And do you agree or disagree with the last sentence in the paragraph above?

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[1] Here I intentionally say “decapitalizing” and not “leaving uncapitalized” or some other, less negative term.  The English-language convention, of course, is to capitalize words in proper nouns.  An alteration of that practice, therefore, merits being labeled as de-capitalizing.

Hand and Arm Gestures

A few thoughts on song leading in a cappella churches:

I know how to “lead singing” in what is now seen by some churches as an old style.  And I am not generally an advocate of mere maintenance when we are speaking of style and form, but I do believe that in a cappella churches, apt use of the song director’s hand can help to lead the worshippers in the pews.

It does take some training and experience, and there are some who are better at “beating time” than others.  Now that I have used the term “beating time,” I would suggest that effective use of the hand(s) in worship leadership involves more than beat patterns.  However, the beat patterns themselves are standardized in Western culture, and should be learned by all song/worship leaders—if for no other reason, for the segment of the congregation that will have been trained musically through our public and private education systems.

One common error is the reversal of the standard pattern for 3/4 time.  We wouldn’t say “black” when we mean “white” or “go” when we mean “stop”; neither should we change the commonly understood declarations for various time signatures.  Beat patterns are a part of the language of music, and the “term” for the next-to-last beat of a measure is out, not in.  (I say “out” instead of “right” to account for left-handed leaders.)  So, in 3/4, song leaders should gesture down for the downbeat, out for the 2nd beat, and up for the upbeat.  In 4/4, the pattern is down, in, out, up.

Another common error is beating each of the eighth notes in what should be relatively fast 3/8 or 6/8 time, or the quarter notes in fast 3/4 time.  Very rarely should this be done; and when it is done, the result can be an exceptionally funereal offering in song.  “Prince of Peace, Control My Will” may effectively be beat in three, but “Into My Heart” and “Take Time To Be Holy” are probably better felt without so many beats shown by the leader.  In the former case, every 3/4 measure could receive one slow beat, and in the latter, every 6/8 measure could include two beats (each comprising three eighth notes).

Beyond these types of “brass tacks”—and these fundamentals should not be passed over apathetically but should be learned and practiced by every leader—gesture may help to communicate a range of emotions and expressions.  For instance, the four-beat pattern used with “Christ, We Do All Adore Thee” should be stylistically different from the one used with “Christ the Lord Is Ris’n Today.”  With the former song, the basic gestures should be smooth and connected, while with the latter, the rebound from each beat should be more pronounced.  Each song has its own type of energy, and the two should feel and look different from each other.  Similarly, “Jesus is Coming Soon” should look different from “Jesus, Let Us Come To Know You,” which should in turn look different from “Jesus, You’re My Firm Foundation.”

At times, dynamics (louds and softs, and everything between) may be indicated by the song leader’s right hand.  The left hand may also be pressed into service periodically to indicate such musical effects that enhance the overall expression.  Even if you do not feel comfortable using the standard beat patterns, I encourage you to use your hand at least at the beginnings of phrases and stanzas, particularly when leading slower and/or more rhythmically complex contemporary songs.  It might feel awkward at first, but you will grow more comfortable with it, and in a very short time, the whole church will be able to express things more dynamically and more “together.”

Aside:  Physical gestures may include the signaling of stanza numbers, when stanzas are omitted.  Because so many seem to miss these signals, I recommend both announcing the numbers (e.g., “We’ll omit the 2^nd stanza” or “We’ll be singing stanzas three and four only”) as well as holding up the appropriate number of fingers well before attentive singers would begin singing the wrong stanza.

A final word on the topic of leading with the hand and arm—perhaps especially for those who lead primarily contemporary songs:  please consider not discarding every aspect of the older ways and means of leading.  We still need rhythmic togetherness, and hand gestures help to achieve it.  As a person in the pew, I want to sing with you as you lead, but I have little chance of doing so a) if you are not using gestures to indicate the beat of the music, and b) if you are constantly skipping beats.

Next:  Arrhythmia

Ekklesia values 5a (nondenominational, nonsectarian)

To return to the original church “value”: my church is not sectarian and is not part of a denomination or franchise. I will often criticize denominational trappings, but I do not condemn the people within the denominations simply for being named. What I oppose on a larger scale is divisive sectarianism, and for myself, I would much prefer to be part of a group that didn’t even come close to using a title—ANY title—even the name or title of Jesus Christ—divisively.

Further, on the matter of affiliation . . . for a local congregation to be affiliated with a denomination is for me problematic–not absolutely necessarily so, but so frequently so that I am compelled to comment. The affiliation with a broader network can so readily compromise commitment to biblical truth, to authenticity of local mission, and to personal conviction that it must be challenged. Those who are naturally phlegmatic and/or submissive may be able to sit in the pews passively, disagreeing but not caring to make a fuss. Those of us with other temperaments and biblically based convictions cannot always sit idly by when affiliation leads to compromise. I care so much less about what the organization says than about what the Bible says, and, secondarily, what my conscience leads me to. My church, in the ideal, will not be affiliated to the degree that scruples and biblically based consciences will be threatened. My church will not be sectarian.

However, my ideal church will not intentionally wear blinders. It will be aware of its own set of backgrounds, seeking to be informed about the impact of various tenets and practices of the past on the present. And my church will—because I’m involved with it, if for no other reason, be particularly informed by the strengths and weaknesses, ideals and objectives of the American Restoration movement led by, among others, Alexander Campbell and Barton Stone.

I close with words of David Lipscomb (courtesy of Bobby Valentine’s Stoned-Campbell Disciple blog), first on fellowship and withdrawal of it for doctrinal reasons:

So long as a man really desires to do right, to serve the Lord, to obey His commands, we cannot withdraw from him. We are willing to accept him as a brother, no matter how ignorant he may be, or how far short of the perfect standard his life may fall from his ignorance…We will maintain the truth, press the truth upon him, compromise not one word or iota of that truth, yet forbear with the ignorance, the weakness of our brother who is anxious, but not yet able to see the truth …Why should I not, when I fall so far short of perfect knowledge myself? How do I know that the line beyond which ignorance damns, is behind me, not before me? If I have no forbearance with his ignorance, how can I expect God to forbear with mine? …So long then as a man exhibits a teachable disposition, is willing to hear, to learn and obey the truth of God, I care not how far he may be, how ignorant he is, I am willing to recognize him as a brother. (David Lipscomb, Gospel Advocate, April 22, 1875).

Again from Lipscomb, on the difference between seeking truth and being a party-spirit Christian or sectarian:

A sectarian is one who defends everything his party holds or that will help his party, and opposes all that his party opposes. This partisan takes it for granted that everything his party holds is right, and everything the other party holds to be wrong and is to be opposed. Hence the party line defines his faith and teaching. He sees no good in the other party. He sees no wrong in his own party . . . A truth lover and seeker always looks into whatever party he comes in contact with, and will first look to see what truth the party holds … The love of truth is a spirit of kindness and love toward all, even to the holder of error. He loves the holder of truth because he receives truth and strength from him, (David Lipscomb, “A Sectarian and a Truth Seeker,” Gospel Advocate. June 27, 1907, p. 409.)

Next (sometime this week): leadership and hierarchy

Ekklesia values 5 (nondenominational, nonsectarian)

In the context of the church sign a couple of weeks ago, Sarah commented on the passage in 1 Cor. 1:

Paul chastises the believers in Corinth for following evangelists of different name and using their names to cause divisions in the church.

It’s alarmingly amusing, or ironically distressing, or something, that I once found myself in a hotbed of disunity and trouble because I pointed out the same thing in 1 Corinthians. Here’s the setting. . . .

After I returned as an adult to the church of my youth, it seemed to me that things were going pretty well. We were moving in ways of worship, the mission team was functioning with heart, the newer elders were shepherding, our fairly new preacher was going in-depth with Pauline passages, we were having reasonably good Bible studies, good times of togetherness, good plans, etc. And then I was asked to fill in as preacher on a Sunday night. I spoke on the church universal and the denominationalism within us. This suggestion, in Church of Christ setting, was tantamount to an act of terrorism.

I exaggerate, of course. And I do regret saying a few things the way I said them–needlessly provocatively. But quite a few people were visibly upset at the very suggestion that we could be using the name/title of Christ divisively. Yet in fact that can be, and often is, precisely the situation. It is the height of hypocrisy to do something covertly — with a huge tapestry of wool over the collective eye — that we accuse everyone else of doing to the detriment of Jesus and His cause. The name “Church of Christ” is no different from the name “Jehovah’s Witness” or “Methodist” or “Roman Catholic” if it is employed in the same way. And something along these lines was even happening in the 1st century, or Paul wouldn’t have warned against being divisive with Jesus’ name.

God’s church is

==> Nonsectarian and non-franchise

• Affiliated with no denomination, yet not isolated from the larger Christian community
• Aware of, and informed by, history and tradition
  • focused on the 1^st century
  • particularly attentive to the frontier American Restoration Movement (a/k/a Stone-Campbell Movement)
  • conversant with the strengths, foibles, and idiosyncrasies of diverse religious traditions

At a peak in my campaign for nonsectarian Christianity, even I passed on a bumper sticker that proclaimed the driver a “Generic Christian.” That seemed a little chincy to me. But Christianity in its purest form is not attached to marketable “brand” or to the ownership and control of a franchise that’s attached to a larger organization.

It may be helpful here to offer a brief treatment of terms and concepts.

To denominate = to name; denomination = named thing or group (not necessarily a bad thing)

The general progression from movement to sect to denomination is fairly well documented. In a movement, at least a few aspects are likely purposeful, germinal. But given human nature, this will likely change over time. A developing sect is presumed to be countercultural, to some degree; this is a progression from “purposeful and germinal”–the tenets become more locked-in, more rabidly held, and it becomes an us-them mentality. But later … a denomination, which has much less excited sense of purpose, is a crystallization of a sect or movement.

These are of course insufficiently simplistic descriptions, but they give some linguistic context to my belief that a denomination is not in itself in the wrong for being denominated. The mere use of a word to name or identify is not necessarily divisive.

To be part of a movement is to be passionate, to be incendiary, to be progressive. To be part of a sect may be ill-advised, because the sect’s counterculturalism may be either cultish or off-putting. But “secting” may also be exactly what we’re supposed to do—“in the world but not of the world,” or, if you prefer, not “conformed to the world.” The problem is when “sectarian” becomes divisive. As I hear the word “divisive,” in no case should a Christian be in that camp. A divisive person causes division. This divisiveness differs from merely being separate from the world; to be divisive is to create sharp lines of fellowship within the body of Christ … to divide those that Jesus died for … those who accept Him on some level.

I’ll be quick to point out that practical divisions are a necessity for those who have standards. I have walked out of churches, and will do so again, because they believe and practice things I find to run counter to the scriptures. But I must leave the theological, eschatological (ultimate, final) dividing lines to God alone. I may not be able to worship or study with this group or that, but it is not mine to assign them to hell.  Further, it is not necessarily divisive to decide to split, or merely to be elsewhere on Sundays. These are natural outgrowths of convictions and study. One may be sincerely convicted that he cannot conscientiously be in this or that group of Christ-followers on Sundays, without having a divisive, contentious spirit.

(To be concluded)

Embarrassed

An erstwhile preacher who is now a friend (I often have difficulty relating in friendship to preachers who are currently, vocationally engaged in preaching – there’s a lot of non-personal, philosophical/conceptual baggage for me) used a phrase once that has stuck with me. In this particular sermon, he was putting himself in the place of a visitor to our assembly, posing questions the hypothetical newcomer might pose. One of these questions was, simply, Why do you sing like that?

To an outsider, how singing happens in the Church of Christ is, frankly, weird. But beyond its oddity in 21^st-century experience, it bears no resemblance to the great a cappella choral music anymore. It harks not back to the Orthodox sonorities of yore. It has little to do with modern, contemporary a cappella that experienced a resurgence on college campuses within the last 10 or 15 years. It just is. A cappella singing is an institution in our churches. So we keep doing it, and doing it worse by the years.

Frankly, I’m embarrassed by our sometimes-poor musical offerings, when they could be better, more consistently. But even if singing is carried out well, as it is in a pitiable percentage of CofC congregations, the question Why do you sing like that? is a valid one. Our singing particulars have much less basis in the Bible than has traditionally been claimed. I suspect that those particulars strike most uninitiated ears as strange, and I feel embarrassment over the sounds that seem strange to an outsider.

Some Sundays, I’m just tired of supposedly congregational, a cappella singing. It–not just me–seems tired out . . . to the point of being laid to rest.  Maybe a few months of worship and study with no singing at all would do us good.  The Mennonites we’ve visited with in the recent past aren’t tired of their singing, and I really wonder what the difference is.

[Not being comfortable with this essayette, I'd sent a proof copy to a friend, who sent back a lot of heartfelt, insightful, personal encouragement.  Johnny had this to say about the Mennonites:  "They work at it!  They continue to pass down the skills necessary and enjoy it."  Also interestingly, after I wrote this and before posting, I skimmed an article in the Christian Chronicle by Darryl Tippens, whose thinking and writing I respect.  Darryl commented on the Mennonites, as well, quoting one of their hymnologists, who also referred to persistence and practice.]

I’m embarrassed by other things we Christians do in the assembly, too—like allowing constantly stumbling speakers to speak from a microphone. Like allowing those who can’t do more than mumble in conversation to read scripture aloud. And, for a twist … I’m less embarrassed by a leader’s pitching a song too high (or too low) than I am by the giggles that erupt all over the hall when sopranos are heard screeching out the highest tones. We might expect youth to giggle, but adults? C’mon…. We’re not talking here about lyrics like “Oh, yeah!” at the end of a pop/jazz tune; on the contrary, these were words of praise and spiritual victory, and I was embarrassed for our church when about 20 people giggled.

In the community of faith

A few weeks ago, I questioned the idea that scripture is safely interpreted “in the community of faith.” This popular position had been verbalized, among other places, in the United Methodist Church’s official statement on the inspiration of scripture.

While I didn’t intend to suggest that a sincere heart interpreting alone will always be “righter” than a sincere group of Christians, I did intend to suggest that the mere existence of a “community of faith” in no way guarantees correct interpretations. This principle extends far and wide—well past the borders of my own fellowship, but certainly including it, so I’ll say it again: a denomination or congregation (or “fellowship of churches”) is fairly likely to be off-base on this or that. The community of faith is a spiritual necessity, but neither its presence nor its proximity ensures right doctrine.

A relatively minor example of what I consider an errant “community of faith” decision or teaching is what I’ve come, not so affectionately, to recall as “the sign debacle.” Several years ago, when I was a good deal more whippersnapperish, my church in DE was about to build a new sign for passers-by to see. After months of hint-dropping and conversations with the elders and others, I believed I had a really fine consensus for constructing and installing some kind of changeable sign.

The sign I had in roughly mind would have been classy — not neon or cheap-looking. It would have provided opportunities for great advertising, and even some teaching, as it were: a sign that said “God’s Church” on Monday and “The Cedars Family of Jesus meets here” on Friday might have made some Rt. 41 drivers think. Again, I believe all the primary leaders — shepherds/elders of the church — were in agreement with my idea, in principle and in most specifics.

But then a few others in the congregation got wind of the idea. And the narrow sectarians (whoa! I’m only catching my egregious labeling on final proofing, but I’ll leave it in as exhibit A) took over. The church was then effectively being led by a few naysayers and not by the leaders. This sign could have even had our fellowship’s well-known title still on it somewhere, for all I cared. As long as the opportunity existed to show that a scriptures-based Christian church was not to be pigeonholed by one exclusive name, we were doing something productive in the arena of nondenominational discipleship and witness to the surrounding community. I was motivated by principles of non-sectarian, unifying Christianity, and I still believe I was on the right path.

The new sign ended up looking nice. “Real nice, Clark,” in the words of Eddie from the “Christmas Vacation” movie. But it said essentially the same thing as the previous sign had said for 25 years, and we went nowhere as a church. This kind of thing, I suspect, happens a lot in churches. And it’s just one reason that congregational consensus, a/k/a “interpretation by the community of faith,” is not always to be trusted.

For a bit more on sign-ifying and the church, see here.

A Once-Ailing Word Is Healed

Change? Why? You’re just asking for trouble. Whaddya wanna do—upset the apple cart?!

Before us stands our never-shifting God—transcending our sociological as well as our vaguely Biblical, deeply ingrained tenets. Ultimately, He does not change. But somewhere within His eternal identity, paradoxically, is the source of our deep-down drive to change.

“Be holy as I am holy,” He had a servant write (and rewrite hundreds of years later). Surely the power to be transformed into someone holy emanates from Someone Who already is. And similarly, the reason for changing anything—daily habits, personal attitudes, methods, ways of worship, any church routine—is rooted in the God of the Universe. Because it’s quite a bit easier, I’ll write today about the church stuff instead of about personal holiness, but the principles may be more cross-applicable than one would initially think.

The worship of God is not a rule of safety—it is an adventure of the spirit, a flight after the unattainable (A. N. Whitehead)

As I’ve been through the doors of perhaps two or three hundred church buildings over the years, I have noticed a couple of truisms related to traditional ruts and the perception of change:

1. No two churches are exactly alike, despite the sense of some that they are using a scriptural blueprint.
2. Churches are much more similar to each other than they sometimes think; those churches that have the gift of thoughtfully approaching method and doctrine are likely to think they are more progressively different than they really are.

We must be anchored, grounded, rooted in reality … and certainly in scripture. But I find that the message most churches need to hear is that it is perfectly all right to do things differently. There is no reason to be fettered to the past, if the past is of human invention. A couple dozen years (or a couple centuries, or even a couple millennia!) of tradition do not an immutable doctrine make.

The freedoms some churches feel they enjoy are so encased in tradition that they are really not very freeing after all. I speak here, for instance, of the many churches I’ve visited that warn me in advance, with a knowing, liberated grin and a wink, that “we do things a little differently here.” The anticipation of a truly progressive church treat wells up within me, and I begin to hunger for what I have not yet experienced on a regular basis. I grow moderately envious … “Wow, sounds great,” I think to myself or say out loud. “You guys sound really thoughtful and as though you give such great attention to meaning over method. I can’t wait for the assembly tomorrow morning.” But when I experience said assembly, almost invariably, the “doing things differently” amounts to little more than singing two songs instead of one, or having the announcements last instead of first.

As we are compelled and convicted by our God, we change . . . if we are disciples of integrity, that is. The changes we make are sometimes costly in terms of human relationship, human security, and human affirmations received. But we change not for humans—not for others, and not for ourselves. We change because something in our core demands it. Our soporific minds hunger for depth. Our bored bodies crave involvement. Our catatonic spirits yearn for meaning … and for passionate engagement in worship. Even (especially?) the contented souls among us need change in order to grow.

Change. The concept is viable and credible. Once ailing, it has been nourished and treated with the Great Physician’s pure Word and with a guiding Spirit. It is healthy, whole, and ready to do its work.

Lord, where we need to change, we commit to changing for You and You alone. We will adjust our worship practices in order to honor and glorify You better. We agree to modify all our behaviors because You need them modified. And we wish to be servants who will never, never hold onto anything we originated if it means relinquishing something You originated.

You are worthy of our attention, our submission, our devotion, and our constant worship. Transform us daily into Your image—so we can be more like Your Incarnate Son, and more like the eternal spirits we will be because of Your marvelous grace.

Capital offense

“The Church of God initially called itself the church of God to indicate its understanding of unity. To my knowledge, no one has traced the shift from church of God to Church of God.” So wrote Susie C. Stanley, in her chapter “‘Bumping’ into Modernity,” in The Primitive Church in the Modern World, ed. Richard T. Hughes.

And I thought the Church of Christ was the only non-denomination that had a weird notion of capitalization! In our case, it doesn’t appear to be so much to emphasize unity as it is to try to place a veil over our own denominationalism. Either way, it is disingenuous to try to cloud matters by using a lower-case “c” on the word “church.”

Those from my background have seen church letterheads that proclaim, “The Main St. church of Christ greets you” and the like. Why do we feel it incumbent on us to decapitalize a clearly proper noun? It looks silly. It’s a mistake not to capitalize a proper noun in English.

I know, we just want to avoid the look and feel of “the denominations.” And the reasoning of some may stem from a well-placed desire to honor Jesus by using the only capital letter on the word “Christ.” But when it’s an institution we’re referring to, a label like “Dallas church of Christ” throws up a smokescreen between our very valid, Biblical aspirations on one hand and the status quo on the other. We need to accept that there is a difference between God’s original ideal and the fractured reality in which we exist.

The Church of Christ is a yellow-pages-identifiable group; in English, this type of things is signified with a capitalized proper noun. (Aside, to the unlikely few conservatives who might be scanning this post: I would add that this “Church of Christ” is not equivalent to the church organism conceived by Jesus.)

As we of the American Restoration Movement tradition continually endeavor to achieve deeper levels of non-denominationalism, may we face head-on the facade of the lower-case “c” in “church of Christ” when used as a proper name. The linguistic impropriety is only moderately offensive to sticklers like me; the spiritual arrogance of assuming we are the only ones, joined with the smokescreen of the lower-case “c,” is much more off-putting.

Acts of worship

Not everything done in a Christian assembly is worship, despite the misbegotten term “worship service.” When the saints get together, various activities may be a part of the meeting, and rightly so. Some activities–both private and corporate–do tend to foster true worship (proskuneo) in our hearts, but not necessarily all.

In the Campbell-Stone tradition of churches, a legacy list exists that is probably as ill-conceived as the idea of the “worship service.” Many of us came up knowing the list of Five Acts of Worship. Nevermind that there were variations on the list. (Hmmm. Is it preaching or listening to the supposedly articulated Word of God that qualifies for The List?) We were instructed, and taught by example, that five things, and five things only, were authorized as corporate acts of worship.

Aside: a hermeneutic of authorization, set over against fear of doing anything not expressly authorized by God, no longer seems adequate to me. While some attempt (operative word: attempt!) to do those things God specifically instructs them to do in scripture, all the while refraining from things He appears to be silent about, I have learned not to trust “arguments from silence” and have become generally comfortable with a bit more open view of God’s will. This doesn’t mean I’m a liberal–far from it. I’d say that, in this context, I’m a different kind of conservative.

Now, I learned early on–owing to high-quality parental and grandparental heritage–that worship is much more than a list, and more than performance of activities associated with said list. Yet it serves a purpose, I think, to consider various activities that frequently are a part of congregational assemblies. Ponder these actions/media and the essence of each:

• Singing . . . sometimes worshipful, sometimes exhortative or instructional
• Praying . . . sometimes worshipful, sometimes petitionary or confessional
• Pouring expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet and wiping them with hair . . . adoringly worshipful, sacrificial, vulnerable
• Preaching sermons . . . mostly exhortatory/didactic, may be worshipful–depending on the heart and intent of the preacher
• Listening to sermons . . . sometimes meditative & worshipful, introspective–again, depending on the heart of the receiver
• Observing the Lord’s Supper . . . sometimes edifying, sometimes introspective, sometimes worshipful
• Speaking praise-filled thoughts . . . worshipful, with an exhortation element present if spoken in the presence of others
• Meditating on His grace . . . worshipful, with elements of introspection & self-examination
• Serving others . . . edifying, perhaps evangelistic, redemptive, and, indirectly, perhaps worshipful
• Sharing information about illnesses of church members . . . caring, merciful, probably not worshipful per se
• Contributing money . . . sacrificial, and, depending on the person, perhaps worshipful in the Romans 12 sense
• Calling a sister to discuss what God’s been doing in our lives this week . . . edificational and worshipful, if the focus is on GOD, calling attention to His goodness

The above list may help in showing how the five traditional acts of worship fit in with a more adequate concept of worship. The list is certainly not exhaustive; I could not begin to provide a full description of the realities present in each act I named. Worship is no simple thing. It defies analysis in terms of checklists of things to do. Much better to worship than to discuss worship, anyway!

And yet, I like to discuss it, too. In my perfect world, I might have had enough time to think of another ten or twelve items to add to the above list. But I what about you? What could you add?

Pitch matters

In the a cappella world, pitch matters.

I’m not saying it has to be perfect, but if the song is pitched a fourth too high, people either shy away from singing altogether, or they laugh themselves through the song–risking irreverence, if the song is addressed adoringly to God.

On the other hand, if the song is pitched 2 steps low,

• the basses may not be heard, and they won’t have the guts to take it up an octave,
• the tenors may get confused and drop out or sing an oddly morphed sort-of alto line,
• the altos may sing too high, doubling the tenor at the octave, or may make up some part that further confuses the hopelessly befuddled men-types captioned above, and
• worse yet, the whole song may lack appropriate energy and brilliance.

If as a leader you can’t naturally pitch a song pretty close to its written pitch (provided the notation has been somewhat knowledgeably offered), you should learn how to use a pitch standard, such as a tuning fork or pitch pipe.  It’s for the good of the assembly.