Eucharist — Clayfire Curator

Spiritual Community: 18 and Over Only Please

by Jodi-Renee Adams | November 17, 2011

It’s funny the things we take for granted.

I had a consulting contract with a local Big Church and set a Sunday to attend their morning worship services so I could get an overview on things. A good friend, not estranged from GOD though vocally distant from “organized religion,” decided to attend with me—probably in the hopes of a free lunch afterwards. Of course, I didn’t expect him to participate and I was prepared for the cynical facial expressions he could compose like so much well-placed furniture. What I wasn’t prepared for was his increasingly nervous scanning of the room over the course of the first ten minutes of songs. As the energy (and the volume) in the room continued to escalate, he turned to me and grabbed my arm, seeming a little freaked out. “Where have all the children gone?”

I almost laughed out loud. Of course the childless sanctuary seemed bizzare to my never-been-to-Big-Church friend. When we entered the large building, there were children appearing magically around corners and from practically underneath the doughnut table. There were gaggles of pre-adolescents entrenched beneath alcoves and under the decorative silk trees. Baby cries and baby-babble bounced around the high ceilings. Then we entered the dark, high-tech space of the auditorium and voila. Vanished. Not a little person in sight.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that Big Community worship had no place in Big Church. We have programs for kids, for tweens, for pre-teens, for adolescents, for college “kids.” And once the family shows up at church, they wave goodbye to each other and the under-18s disappear into brightly colored and “age-friendly” rooms while the parents are absorbed into the throng of adults in the sanctuary until the service is done when everyone is reunited, rejuvenated, and needs-met-happy. What does this teach our children about the community of faith? Ah, log in my own eye—what does it reinforce in my own experience and expectations of the Body of Christ?

My friend, with his refreshing lack of cultural associations, put his finger on something poignant. There is something bizzare, alien, and almost life-draining about a “community gathering” that is devoid of its children and young people. All his “BBCA sci-fi” jokes aside, I think that he saw into a schism that we might have inadvertently, and with the best of intentions, reinforced.

Our attempts to “train our children up in the way they should go” means we have linked arms with a Western culture that tailors everything to our needs–whether they be perceived or actual. One of those needs was to make Christianity fun and relevant to kids; and one (maybe unintentional though it’s a complaint the nursery-free church hears a bit) was to remove the distractions a.k.a. children from worship. So it got me wondering: What are the actual needs of children and even the whole community when it comes to the worship gathering?

Programming cannot replace relationship and experience in the formation that takes place in a child (and in the community represented in the metaphor). Somewhere along the line, we decided that children can’t worship in the same way or through the same means as adults. And yet these kids become young people in the church who don’t understand why the faith community matters, why Eucharist nurtures, or even how to pray. When Church fails to meet their perceived needs, it ceases to become relevant. And so the cycle continues on and on.

When the children disappear from community worship–scuttled off like so many miniature Quasimodos–it implies something about our understanding of community. Of worship. Of GOD.

The plates are shifting underground. Conversations need to be had. The next generation of the Church may depend on it. But no pressure…

Image: Communion at Ecclesia, Denver, © Stephen Proctor

Categories: Formation

Guerrilla Gratitude

by Mandy Smith | October 5, 2011

Today, for the first time I can remember, paperwork made my day. Annual medical check-ups for three family members meant pages of questions like:

Do you snore?
Do you have hearing loss?
Tingly fingers? Bad breath? Wheezing? Toenail fungus? Strange mole? Lactose intolerance?

I hadn’t awakened that morning thinking, “I’m so glad we don’t have goiters, hair-loss or acne!” But after being required to stop and consider these questions, our lack of these (and many other maladies) was suddenly at the front of my mind. So, I felt a warm glow of gratitude, simply because I’d been made to be thoughtful.

We tend to think “thankful” is something you just are. Or aren’t.

But we can’t rely on thankfulness just turning up. Because we’re steeped in a culture that’s anti-thankfulness. Our education teaches us to be critical thinkers, to always seek out one more thing that needs improvement. Our news media reports in detail on the evils of society. And rampant consumerism means that an army of ad execs bombard us with messages that we’re not thin, rich, fit, well-dressed, comfortable, or beautiful enough. And as our culture becomes more aware of the discrepancy between the developed and developing world, even our appreciation of how much less others in the world have can rob us of gratitude for what we have.

And so we can’t wait until a feeling of thankfulness comes over us. Usually that feeling only makes an appearance when all is perfect. Daily gratitude, in the midst of lack, is a counter-cultural discipline to be re-learned, a revolutionary practice. Just as we teach our children to say “Thank-you,” knowing their hearts are actually saying, “Yes! Chocolate!” we also have to say “Thank-you” before we feel it. And eventually a lifestyle of heartfelt gratitude will follow.

Though most people in the United States and European Union will live much longer, with far more personal freedom than their forebears just a few generations back, how many of us feel grateful that we can behold the morning sunrise so often and in such liberty? Don’t we spend more time feeling envy over those who have more stuff, or more luck or more looks, than feeling thankfulness that we are not one of the 99 percent of Homo sapiens ever to have existed who possessed less and knew less and died much younger?
Gregg Easterbook, The Progress Paradox: How Life Gets Better While People Feel Worse, 238.

Some ideas to add thankfulness to your worship:

Thank-you Trees: Create a large, bare tree (on sheets of paper or a wooden board) and provide paper, scissors, tape, pens and these instructions: “Add a leaf to share what you’re thankful for!” (Add a few before the event to help to get the ball rolling.) This exercise is meaningful on (at least) three levels: first you read comments from others and see the many gifts around you, then you stop to consider your own life and choose something to be thankful for, and finally, you watch the tree grow and know that your one item of gratitude is part of something larger, that the community in which you live is finding pieces of joy all around them.

Celebrate the Eucharist, unpacking the etymology of the name “Eucharist” (from the Greek word for gratitude).

Read 1 Corinthians 11:23-24 and consider what it meant for Jesus to “give thanks” for the bread and cup. We say grace before every meal but what would it mean to say a grace before the Eucharist?

Express gratitude in the community.

Give time for worshipers to write thank-you letters to take out and hand to people who serve. Ask who they’ll see on their way home – a bus driver? a neighbor? How can they thank them?

Make your own gratitude inventory. (Try this suggestion.)

Invite each worshiper to make a list, across the spectrum of life’s experiences (relationships, health, work, home etc) to break down all the possible things that could go wrong (and which probably haven’t).

Count your blessings. One of the greatest metaphors of appreciation of our blessings is our own heartbeat. Stop in silence and feel your own pulse (or the pulse of someone you love) and remember how thankful you are that this one little muscle is faithful.

Image © Mandy Smith

Categories: Curation

The Pre-9/11 Firefighter in the Sky

by Eric Herron | October 4, 2011

I’ve always liked firefighters. Despite the fact that I was not one of those little boys who wanted to be one when I grew up, they still held for me that same intrigue as do airline pilots, crane operators, and spiderman. As I grew older, my intrigue turned to sincere – but vague – appreciation. Like, it’s comforting to know that when things catch on fire, there are people to call who know what to do about it.

It wasn’t until after September 11th, 2001 that I felt true gratitude for the ones who risk their lives when danger threatens. What changed?

Nothing. Nothing changed, except suddenly, everyone with a TV screen was given the best (really worst) possible reminder of the firefighter’s job and the risk and sacrifice involved. One catastrophic event birthed thousands of related stories – stories of successful rescues and tragic losses, many of which revolved around the men and women who save the public when the public can’t save itself.

As the visibility of firefighters rose in the public eye, so also did the public’s gratitude for them. Through poignant and horrific accounts, we have realized the debt of gratitude we owe to those who ‘protect and serve’ us. The recognition of this truth has led to all kinds of actions honoring and thanking those with rescuing roles beyond Manhattan.

In one such instance, last week a realty company in my neighborhood held its annual tribute barbecue honoring firefighters and police. Apparently, none of the public servants honored at this lunch in Pasadena, California were in New York on that fateful day ten years ago. Still, because of one notorious event, police and firefighters in cities like mine all over the country, gather even today to “show appreciation for those who risk their lives each day… while they are still here,” to “go out of their way to say thanks,” and to express gratitude in the form of a free and “nice meal.” (Quotes from the news article, “Pasadena business holds annual 9/11 tribute honoring firefighters, police” by Brian Charles in the Pasadena Star News.)

I think we treat God like a pre-9/11 firefighter. We all know God is there. Hardly anyone would ever say anything bad about the Lord. We generally agree that God is ready to “save” us in times of trouble. Some of us even aspire to be like God – when we grow up! And, as with pre-9/11 firefighters, we do not express the gratitude that God deserves. Simply knowing God is there and choosing not to say anything bad about the Lord is not the equivalent to giving thanks, though we often act as if it is. Where is true thanksgiving for God? How do we curate worship that prompts a “post-9/11” kind of gratitude – the kind that is truly and tangibly thankful on a regular basis?

As with our cultural example, grateful hearts beat faster for God when quickened by remembrance. Here are some related essentials toward developing a deeper sense of ongoing gratitude in your congregational worship.

Remembering God’s past work. The bible contains a record of God’s past faithfulness. The more we use it, the more we remember how God saves. God’s salvation – more than anything else – prompts heartfelt thanksgiving. We need to see God’s storied faithfulness acted out. We must hear the stories read. We should read them ourselves. We ought to hear the thoughts of others about these stories and have the opportunity to ask questions about them.

Communion/The Lord’s Supper/The Eucharist (which literally means “thanksgiving”) should be a regular part of our worship. If your tradition doesn’t share the cup frequently, consider doing it more often. If you engage it weekly, spend some time rethinking your approach – the words, prayers, songs, even the symbols. Imagine which changes might revitalize the effectiveness of anamnesis (“recollection”) in this ritual meal.

Remembering God’s current work. Our lives, today, are a living testament of God’s faithfulness. The more we communicate with one another about the content of our lives and the way God daily “saves” us, the more our hearts will find it easy to embrace true gratitude. We need to hear more testimonies – live testimonies, video testimonies, written letters read before the group. Spontaneous testimonies can yield a large harvest of thanks, despite the inherent ‘risks’ of this form.

We should be allowing more of the larger culture’s stories into our gatherings, as well. We need to hear, not only the stories as big as 9/11, but also the tales from our towns and neighborhoods.

These approachs and more can remind us of God’s important role in our salvation, and convert our “vague appreciation” into deeply felt thanks. What else could you add to this list? How does your faith community remember God’s work and what kind of response does this bring about in your context?

Categories: Formation

View from Your Pew

by Eric Herron | July 12, 2011

Date: April 10, 2011

Time: 10:30 a.m.

Location: 4272 Fremont Ave. N., Seattle, Washington

Church: Church of the Apostles

Event: Breakfast Liturgy

Caption: Breakfast Liturgy is a cross-generational and cross-cultural sacramental community. We gather every second and fourth Sunday of the month at 10:00 a.m. The gathering is Eucharistic in spirit as our community meets around the table to share food, tell stories, listen to the Word, live into the Gospel lesson, pray and are finally sent forth to continue our prayers with our hands, as we work and serve in our communities.

For more Breakfast Liturgy photos, click here.

Categories: View from Your Pew

Speaking (Babbling, Really) of Unity and Diversity at Pentecost

by Eric Herron | June 9, 2011

Pentecost. It’s about the Spirit. The one poured out in Joel 2. The one Jesus promised upon his earthly departure. Pentecost. It’s about the birth of the Church, the official initiation of our mission in the world as Christ’s body. Pentecost. It’s about God’s desire and plan for unity through diversity.

Wait… Wha?!

Though not usually the first thing we associate with Acts 2:1-13, the Day of Pentecost can be seen as a fresh revelation of unity, especially when interpreted in light of Genesis 11:1-9.

Genesis 11:1-9 contains the story of the Tower of Babel. Here, a relatively new humanity, possessing only one world-wide language, finds a place in the East to build a city. The people intend the city to deter God’s children from being “scattered over the face of the whole earth.” Central to this story is the construction by the people of a tower that “reaches to the heavens.”

Most often, human hubris is associated with this tower tale. In our bad habit of moralizing the scripture text, we call Babel a warning against pride, the kind of pride that finds humans flirting with god-status. After all, God does seem a little nervous as he says, “If… they have begun to do this… nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them.” (v.6)

But perhaps, as some scholars have suggested, Babel is not primarily about human hubris, but about God’s plan for human unity. From a human perspective, unity and “scattering” are opposites. The divine plan for unity, however, calls not for social similiarity, but for cultural diversification. This is not the first time Yahweh has been seen to act in ways counter to human intuition.

Overlaying Acts 2 and Genesis 11 clarifies even further God’s unique definition of unity. Both stories have to do with communication, confusion, and sending. In Genesis, one language is turned into many, confusion ensues, and God’s plan for humans to ‘fill the earth’ is re-enacted.

In Acts, Galileans who naturally speak a single language, supernaturally speak the languages of “every nation under heaven.” Confusion again ensues, leading to another “scattering” abroad, this time with a redemptive purpose: ‘filling the earth with the kingdom of Jesus.’

In neither story is God pushing for homogeneity. The opposite is true. God is not interested in mono-culture, otherwise, he would have left language alone at Babel. At Jerusalem, he would have displayed the Spirit’s power by teaching all the foreigners to speak Aramaic. Cultural diversity is promoted as the LORD’s personal preference in both Genesis and Acts. Additionally, the granting of the Spirit to the Church – along with the multi-plex of giftings she imparts – further promotes God’s version of unity in diversity.

God, then, is not seeking conformity or uniformity, but affirming variety. Christ functions as the head of a body that breathes and bleeds as one, yet has unique members, each as distinct as toe from tongue and knee from nose.

How would this approach to interpreting Pentecost alter our curation plans? Essentially, we have gained another valid theme for focusing our celebration. This year (or perhaps next, if you aren’t the last-minute type!) you may consider how the theme of ‘unity in diversity’ would take shape in the context of your worshipping community. Consider the following curation ideas a kick-start…

Forget the doves, flames and the color red. What other sorts of visuals will invite the prayerful consideration of multi-cultural validation and spiritual unity? Globes? Multi-colored tapestries? A live, projected kaleidoscope? Maps?

Have a communal meal, a potluck in which each person signs up to bring a dish from a different culture. Talk about the wide variety of tastes and smells. Enjoy the unity that sharing such diverse food brings to those who eat it together.

Emphasize unity through the sharing of ONE loaf and ONE cup, instead of focusing the Eucharist solely on giving thanks for the forgiveness we’ve received through Christ. Use an additional text like: Romans 12:4-8 to connect Christ’s body with both unity and diversity.

Have Acts 2:1-13 read out loud in multiple languages – at literally the same time. In doing so, you illustrate the confusion and chaos that can occur on the surface even when the same “word” is being spoken in agreement.

Offer up prayers for fellow believers throughout the world – including across the street. Pray for cultural validation by missionaries. Pray for unity among believers, especially in locations where persecution is prevalent.

Create some interactive stations based on the Tower of Babel story in Genesis 11:1-9. e.g. Invite people to play Jenga while sharing one personal “tower” he/she regularly builds to delay being “scattered” by God beyond cultural comfort.

What ideas would you add?

Categories: Curation