About Anastasia McAteer

Anastasia McAteer is a freelance writer and liturgical consultant. She holds a Master of Divinity with a concentration in Worship, Theology and the Arts from Fuller Theological Seminary, and has done doctoral work in Liturgical Studies at the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. She authored the popular blog Feminary while at Fuller. Stasi has also written a variety of worship resources for local use and national publications. Her essay “Exorcising the Spirit” is included in Jesus Girls: True Tales of Growing Up Female and Evangelical (Cascade Books, 2009). Stasi is married to John and their two children, Maggie and Kieran, help her fulfill her priestly calling on a daily basis.

Resurrecting Advent

by Anastasia McAteer | December 2, 2011

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, or so the song tells us. I, however, find myself increasingly grumpy. This is my annual affliction as the Christmas season creeps closer and closer to the start of the Christian year (which was this past Sunday, by the way).

The reason I get annoyed with Christians right about now is not because they are celebrating Christmas, but because they are skipping Advent—and thereby missing out on an opportunity to deepen their understanding and experience of God-with-us.

Now I admit, I’m a liturgy geek. A church decorated red during Advent gets my panties in a bunch. A Christian singing “Joy to the World, the Lord has come” in this season makes me /facepalm/. I’ve been called the “liturgy police” and even “Scrooge” (though I might point out that A Christmas Carol takes place on December 24, not November 24… just sayin’). But still, I think there’s something important being missed, something that all Christians need, whether they know a crucifer from a thurible.

Which reminds me: everything I’m saying here applies solely to Christians. I have no beef with a non-Christian celebrating Christmas in her own way, and starting in July if she likes. The cultural Christmas is a different holiday. (And I also participate in it to an extent (going to parties, gifting, watching claymation specials, etc.)

So with all that in mind, allow me a moment on my soapbox.

This year, I kicked off my grumpfest with a status update on Facebook. I remarked that the “Christmas Season” doesn’t actually begin until December 25, and could everyone please hold their decorating, music, and celebration of Christ’s birth just a bit longer?

Well, that got some response! People reacted as if I was trying to take Christmas away from them. Far from it! I’m trying to restore Christmas—to give it some meaning again apart from cutesy décor and overplayed carols. And just like Easter can mean immeasurably more when you have taken all of Lent to prepare for it, I don’t think you can really experience the wonder of Christmas without a season of anticipation and intentional waiting.

A season we in the Christian world call Advent.

I think I get grumpy because, in my heart, I don’t feel like it’s fair that other people are already getting to “do” Christmas, while I am still waiting. They’re enjoying the music I also love, putting up beautiful decorations that I have packed away. They are bringing Christmas into their homes, while I twiddle my thumbs and wait for God’s timing. Sure, I’d love to sing the more familiar carols and put up a tree the day after Thanksgiving. But I have learned that I need the forced rest, the pulling back, the resistance to the desire to get Christmas when I want it.

Here’s the thing: God isn’t about instant gratification. Christ comes when Christ chooses to, not on my timeline, and I can’t make him come. I can’t make it be Christmas. Advent commemorates both Christ’s first coming 2,000 years ago, and his reign that Christians hope will one day be consummated with complete “peace on earth.” We all know that we are nowhere near that day. We are waiting.

Advent teaches us how to wait for God. Waiting is something we are so terrible at. This morning I was behind a slow car on the road, unable to get around him before making my turn. In that moment I had to stop and breathe, allow myself to take all of fifteen seconds longer to get home. Just that little discipline opened me up—the breath was so refreshing, the letting go was so relaxing.

Now imagine making waiting and patience an intentional part of your day all throughout this season. The “Christmas” values of peace on earth and goodwill to all would naturally flow out of this demeanor. You would be countering the stress and hurry of the culture’s Christmas. You would breathe calm into a harried world.

More than this, you would be recognizing that God is in charge, that you trust God’s plan over your own preferences.

I realize asking people to change their holiday traditions is a tall order. But the fact is, Advent and Christmas can’t take place simultaneously. It simply doesn’t work that way, since Advent is anticipating Christmas. If we want to truly experience Advent, Christmas will have to wait, and we have to learn to let it come later.

I will admit I get a “fix” now and then: I’ll put on “winter” music or secular carols, take my kids around to see decorated houses, exchange early gifts with my family and friends. I don’t have a problem with the culture’s version of Christmas. But I think we need to be very clear: as Christians, that is not our season. (For a fascinating study of America’s cultural Christmas and its religious ramifications, see Dell deChant, The Sacred Santa.)

We must provide—for ourselves, our children, and especially our churches—a counter-narrative. Ironically, I think that the “war on Christmas” has largely been waged by the Church itself, through buying into the culture’s timeline and story instead of God’s.

The Christian Christmas season begins December 25, with the Feast of the Nativity of our Lord, and lasts until January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany. We spend twelve days celebrating the Incarnation, and it is key to our faith. We prepare ourselves for this miracle through the Advent season. But more-so, we practice it to remind ourselves that it’s not just the baby in Bethlehem for whom we hope—we mindfully seek the ongoing coming of our King.

Let’s learn to love the waiting, living in hope, and treasuring the glimpses of the promise that we are graced to receive in this beautiful season.

Not sure how to get started? Check out Busted Halo’s Advent Calendar for a daily quote from pop culture and an activity to get you in the spirit of the season (the real season, eh hem).

Categories: Formation

The Revelation of Jesus Christ: A Staged Reading

by Anastasia McAteer | September 27, 2011

(The Revelation of Jesus Christ: A Staged Reading is located in the Worship Texts/Dramas section of the Clayfire collection, “Discipleship for the Real World.” Included with the reading are detailed performance notes for casting and staging. It is available for local use with a subscription to Clayfire.org.)

The Revelation is a casebook of visionary excess… [but] also an ordinary human vessel, a letter meant to be read aloud. It begins and ends with a blessing upon those who read it to others, and those who hear and heed it.

This is a poet’s book, which is probably the best argument for reclaiming it from fundamentalists. It doesn’t tell, it shows, over and over again, its images unfolding, pushing hard against the limits of language and metaphor, engaging the listener in a tale that has the satisfying yet unsettling logic of a dream.

Kathleen Norris, Revelation (Pocket Canon), pp. vii, viii & ix

The Revelation of Jesus Christ: A Stage Reading began with a sermon series. My pastor, Darrell Johnson, had decided that he wanted to share this book about “discipleship on the edge” with his congregation, and it being the year 1999 and end-times all the rage, he figured he could get away with it. This wasn’t any normal little series, however – it was 32 weeks of intense theological digging into perhaps the most deep, poetic and misunderstood book of the Bible.

After each week’s service, I would go home and meditate on the scripture which had been presented. As usually happens when I hear scripture read aloud, I began to hear different voices reading it with varying inflection and interpretation. I considered how the words may be presented by not just one, but multiple readers. The very beginning of the book states quite plainly that the words are “meant to be read aloud.” This book, which as a child I’d read during boring sermons for sensational entertainment, turned out to be an epic poem which was intended by its author to be read to others. Not turned into cheap fiction, not made into bad movies. It was a letter from one disciple to others, and originally would have been read aloud to the congregations mentioned therein as well as many others. Why couldn’t we, today, have the same experience – the original intent?

Of course, to hear these words as simply a beautiful poem or a sensational story is not wrong – the art of the book is part of what makes it so special. But going deeper within the text adds a new dimension of understanding to the much-maligned familiar scenes taking place in the spiritual dimension. Simply put, the further one dives into this book, and the more one understands its true meaning and intent to change our lives, the more one will enjoy this staged reading. Indeed, I wish that all audiences of the piece would learn the theology behind what they are hearing. Thus, I was delighted that the first performance of TRoJC concluded the sermon series mentioned above. It was a perfect ending to a year of intense study and debate, for everyone listening could recall how the verses they were hearing had been unpacked and wrestled with. It brought back the truths we had discovered together, while at the same time reminding us all that, in the end, the book is an amazing work of art.

Download an excerpt of The Revelation of Jesus Christ: A Staged Reading.

Anastasia McAteer is a freelance writer and liturgical consultant. She holds a Master of Divinity with a concentration in Worship, Theology and the Arts from Fuller Theological Seminary, and has done doctoral work in Liturgical Studies at the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. She authored the popular blog Feminary while at Fuller. Stasi has also written a variety of worship resources for local use and national publications. Her essay “Exorcising the Spirit” is included in Jesus Girls: True Tales of Growing Up Female and Evangelical (Cascade Books, 2009). Stasi is married to John and their two children, Maggie and Kieran, help her fulfill her priestly calling on a daily basis.

Categories: Clayfire News, Discipleship for the Real World

Slow Food, Slow Church

by Anastasia McAteer | July 29, 2011

This post was written by Anastasia and John McAteer.

The Slow Food movement is a worldwide phenomenon, kicked off by the introduction of a McDonald’s into the ancient city of Rome. Begun as one man’s struggle against the implications of capitalist, American fast food, the Slow Movement has come to mean, in shorthand, an approach to life focused on quality, health, sustainability, tradition, DIY, justice, and beauty. It resists the “McDonaldization” of society (or the “Walmarting of America” or the “Coca-Colonization of the World” – pick your symbolic corporate villain). In contrast to a fast food nation that values speed, efficiency, and cost above all else, the Slow Food movement promotes food that is “good, clean and fair”.

The fundamental conviction of Slow Food is that these three core values are linked: sustainably farmed and fairly traded food may take more time and money to produce, but it tastes better. The life of justice, health, and quality is more beautiful than the life in pursuit of a fast buck. Slow Food pushes back against the values of corporate culture. When indulging in fast and cheap food (or anything else), you don’t want to think about where it comes from, how it got to you, how the people and animals involved were treated, what its production did to the earth… and you don’t even really want to think about how it tastes, and certainly not what might be in it. In other words, living Fast is the opposite of living mindfully, and mindfulness is what the Slow Movement seeks, at its heart, to encourage.

Slow Church, then, means to be Church mindfully. It’s not about speed, necessarily; but to really think through what you’re doing and why you’re doing it will take time. And it isn’t only leaders who need space for thought: particularly in the act of worship, participants need open places for pondering: what am I doing? Where have we been, and where are we going, in this hour, this season, this year?

In worship planning, one area in which we can be more mindfully Slow is in how we connect to the past. If ritual seems irredeemably boring or lacking in spontaneity, the solution is not to be impulsive, but rather more aware of what liturgy means. Learn where liturgy comes from – read the source materials (the original recipes, as it were), and see how they have evolved over time. Picasso could not change art until he knew how to draw. A slow worship leader bathes herself in the traditions of the past so that she can shape the future of her community’s experience with God.

Another area to Slow in is how we connect to the world: specifically, the impact of our choices on others. What would it look like to be a truly sustainable church? Ethical in business dealings, human relations, finances? Humane in the use of and procuring resources, from paper to power to coffee and donuts?

To be Slow is to be intensely local, respecting the context in which you find yourself. In church, this means raising worship leaders from within. It means following the recipe of the liturgy, but adding your local tastes. It means doing life together – savoring moments with God as a group. Slow Foodies don’t eat alone; Slow Churches don’t worship alone.

To be Slow means to value small family owned businesses over multinational corporations; so, we would reject franchised churches with satellite piped-in sermons and instead seek to be parishes with persons living in and serving the neighborhood. Worship should not be made available in prepackaged portions. The same songs shouldn’t necessarily be sung in every church (at least not in the same way). To be able to go to any church and expect the exact same “program” is just like visiting any McDonalds in the world, knowing you’ll get the same tasteless “food-like substances” (Michael Pollan’s word for a thing that purports to be food but isn’t actually grown or raised, rather it is invented.) To hire professionals to make it slick, only performing songs from the radio, all written by one or two bands (for their context, mind you); to pass out tasteless crackers and syrupy juice and call it bread and wine; to touch an infant’s head with a drop of water and claim that he has been buried in the waters of baptism… all of these are efficient, fast, and easy, and lack mindful energy.

To do “homemade worship”, think of the liturgy as your recipe: it is the foundation to which you will add your local flavors and techniques. You can’t change the fundamentals of a recipe or you won’t get the correct end result; but still the same dish will taste very different depending on the types of ingredients used, the location in which its cooked, the tools used to prepare it, and even the personal style and preferences of the chef. In fact, in addition to thinking of ourselves as worship curators, perhaps we should dub ourselves worship chefs!

The Slow Church movement rejects a capitalist approach to church, whose values are bigger (more numbers), faster (emphasis on conversion, “saving” people), and efficient (pray a prayer and you’re done). Just like raising a crop, growing a Christian is not an efficient process. It takes time, energy, and a lot of hard work. It’s a long-term commitment. You can be a factory farmer in your church, but the quality of your harvest is going to suffer. Why not raise heirloom varietals instead? Sure, they’re fussy and labor intensive, and not nearly as big or numerous as their mass-produced counterparts; but they are also richer, more connected to their roots, and more truly and fully represent what they were created to be.

Image © iStockphoto

Anastasia McAteer is a freelance writer and liturgical consultant. She holds a Master of Divinity with a concentration in Worship, Theology and the Arts from Fuller Theological Seminary, and has done doctoral work in Liturgical Studies at the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. She authored the popular blog Feminary while at Fuller. Stasi has also written a variety of worship resources for local use and national publications including a reader’s theater version of the Book of Revelation. Her essay “Exorcising the Spirit” is included in Jesus Girls: True Tales of Growing Up Female and Evangelical (Cascade Books, 2009). Stasi’s children, Maggie and Kieran, help her fulfill her priestly calling on a daily basis.

John McAteer is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Houston Baptist University. He has a B.A. in Film, an M.A. in Theology, and a Ph.D. in Philosophy. He co-curated the forthcoming Lent Collection for Clayfire with his wife Stasi. John blogs at filmphilosopher.wordpress.com.

Categories: Formation

We Believe In the Holy Spirit – A Creed

by Anastasia McAteer | June 8, 2011

This creed was written for the “Pentecost/Holy Trinity” Clayfire Collection.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Advocate,
Promised by Jesus,
Who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

At the creation of the world, she hovered over the waters,
Breathing order into chaos.
She called the patriarchs and matriarchs in dreams and in fire,
And revealed God’s purposes through the Prophets.

The Spirit overshadowed Mary of Nazareth,
Filling her with a new song and new life.
She came upon Jesus at his baptism
As he was named the Father’s beloved.

She came down out of heaven on the day of Pentecost,
Manifest in tongues of flame and of speech.
She preached and healed through the Apostles,
Inspired the Holy Scriptures,
Sustains the Church,
And knits the Community of Believers together into one Body.

She dwells in and with God’s people,
Midwife to our rebirth as heavenly children.
One day she will welcome us home to the City of God,
And wipe away every tear from our eyes.

Categories: Curation

Children’s Church: Part Two

by Anastasia McAteer | March 4, 2011

This post is a continuation of last week’s post by Anastasia McAteer.

Last week I wrote about why we should be curating worship with children in mind, and welcoming them into every aspect of church life – especially our primary worship services. Although their tendency is to behave in ways we do not traditionally find “acceptable” in church, I argued that they actually have many things to teach us about relating to God.

In this post, I will offer some practical suggestions for how to curate worship from – and for – a child’s perspective.

The first thing you have to do is get the parents on board. Many parents – myself included – really enjoy a blissful hour away from the responsibilities and distractions of their kids. By suggesting children be fully incorporated into worship I am not suggesting we make things harder for their parents. Instead, this is an opportunity for the church family to be exactly that: a family to these little ones. Every adult in that sanctuary should be watching out for them, helping them participate, handing them something to play with or making sure they are following what’s going on. Parents should be so secure in their church family’s love for their children – in the covenant that the congregation has made to that child when she or he was baptized – that they can let the village raise their little Christian.

Once parents are willing to bring their kids into the service – knowing that it’s a congregational effort to ensure their engagement (not make sure they “behave”) – it’s up to the worship leaders to make changes so that children are welcomed and embraced by the liturgy. No amount of friendly uncles and aunties will make a difference if the worship itself is out of children’s reach.

It’s not actually very hard: worship should be playful, after all; and why can’t it be messy? We are told to make a joyful noise unto the Lord – who better to teach us how than a toddler? I daresay that if we geared our worship more towards children, the rest of us would have a better time as well.

Here are a few concrete ideas for better involving children in a worship service:

Movement: There are few things more painful to a child – and, frankly, many adults – than being forced to sit still for an hour or more. People should move during worship. At the very least, there should be standing, sitting, maybe some kneeling thrown in here and there. I’ve attended churches that incorporated processions and even group dancing. And you know what? It’s fun and it sure keeps you interested! Another great way to get people moving is to use station-based worship. It doesn’t work in every space, but going from place to place has a rich historical basis for Christian worship, and our bodies’ movement signals our brains to refresh for the next activity.

Music: You may not realize that the music in many churches is just too darn loud for little ears (they are fresh and new, after all). So turn those amps down a few notches. There are many wonderful ways to have children participate in music: for instance, invite them up to play an instrument (even a preschooler can bang a tambourine). This may require letting go of preconceived notions about the “quality” of your music… but that might be a lesson God wants to teach you.

Preaching: Shoot for sermons no longer than 10-15 minutes. Long teaching monologues belong in Sunday School or bible study, not in worship. The point of a worship service (sorry preachers) is not to hear your thoughts. It’s to hear God’s – which you can hear in a sermon, but equally through Scripture readings, music, and actions, especially Eucharist. Remember that the length you allot to any activity in worship necessarily bespeaks the importance you place on it – and, consequently, the importance your congregation will believe God places on it.

Also sermons do not need to be “dumbed down,” but it’s already established that writing for popular audiences should be at a jr. high level. So preaching should be comprehensible to your 7^th and 8^th grade audience, which will consequently make it enjoyable to many older people as well.

Space: If the worship space is stark (whether in the light or the dark), cheer it up a bit. Unless it’s a penitential season, there’s not much reason we shouldn’t be living in the resurrection joy of Jesus week after week. Colorful fabrics in banners, garments, linens – even parasols – catch the eye and lift the spirit. Icons and even murals (or projected images if you desire something less permanent) are engaging and can teach or be foci for prayer.

Another important consideration in your space is where you encourage children to sit. Oftentimes parents feel like they should be in the back of the church so they can beat a hasty exit if their little one is disruptive. Once it is made clear that such age-appropriate behavior isn’t a problem, parents should be welcomed to bring their children to the front. This is firstly practical: We often forget how hard it is to see when you’re little! (my daughter always kneels on the kneeler for confession, then calls out, “I can’t see!” really loudly) But it is also instructive (my husband always holds her up so she can see, and whispers explanations to her about everything that’s happening), and a very clear statement of the church’s value of children. Being up front will help the kids themselves pay attention, for they will see better, hear better, understand better, and want to be where they are obviously wanted.

Community: Children smile a lot. And they love to touch and be touched. So for heaven’s sake, let the love of God shine through your face, and give lots of hugs!!

And a personal request: please let women nurse infants in your church service, not closeted away somewhere (unless they so choose). It is wonderful, as a new mother, to be told you are welcome to stay in worship and be shown to a comfortable rocking chair where you won’t miss anything. I can tell you also, from personal experience, that it is deeply profound to nourish a baby from your own body whilst you are being nourished by the Body of Christ. If others find this distracting (or, sadly, offensive), suggest they imagine Mary breastfeeding the infant Christ, and hopefully that will pull all minds out of the gutter.

A final story: once when I took my crying infant to the nursery, I found the rector (senior pastor) sitting in there reading to the children. Surprised, I asked if someone hadn’t shown up to work; he replied, “Nope. Sometimes I just prefer to be in here.”

As a parent, that told me everything I needed to know about that church’s commitment to children. Imagine sending your spiritual leader to change diapers and kiss boo-boos. Can’t see it? Read Mark 10 and try again. Nobody is more important in the kingdom of God than children. Jesus says so. It’s about time we listened.

Anastasia McAteer is a full-time mom and freelance writer/liturgical consultant. She holds a Master of Divinity with a concentration in Worship, Theology and the Arts from Fuller Theological Seminary, and has done doctoral work in Liturgical Studies at the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. Stasi has published a reader’s theater version of the Book of Revelation, and the essay “Exorcising the Spirit” in Jesus Girls: True Tales of Growing Up Female and Evangelical (Cascade Books, 2009). She also authored the popular blog Feminary while at Fuller. Stasi and her husband, John, co-curated the forthcoming Lent Collection for Clayfire. Her children, Maggie and Kieran, help her fulfill her priestly calling on a daily basis.