Worship, 19 June 2011

Worship    19 June 2011        Holy Trinity       

Paul Westermeyer uses the word “prisms” to describe the devices which inform how we interpret or judge our experiences.  As I journey through this sabbatical, I am aware that, at any given moment, the book which I am currently reading functions as the most immediate prism through which I view worship.  In the case of worship at this church, I had just completed Samuel Torvend’s small book Daily Bread, Holy Meal.  This book focuses upon Holy Communion, but offers intriguing insight about worship as a whole. 

Prior to the service, I told Beth that a primary criteria for evaluating worship this day would be the extent to which the service sends the community out to serve.  This specification is also an aspect of Jonathan Linman’s book Holy Conversation, in which he notes that the liturgy should be a sustaining and empowering experience, one that fills us up so that we are ready to be Christians out among the world.  By this particular criteria, worship on this Sunday did not give me impetus to go forth and serve, despite statements in the printed bulletin to the contrary. 

In a broad sense, several factors led to my disappointment. 

First, although the bulletin noted that this was Trinity Sunday (and Saturday), very little happened in worship to draw attention to this temporal designation as such.

Second, there was no reading of the Gospel; the Genesis 1 text was the only scripture reading and the basis for the sermon. 

Third, the order of the liturgy was rather haphazard; some elements were present, while others were missing.  For example, we sang the Alleluia (or Gospel Acclamation) from Setting 1, but prior to reading the Genesis text.  We did not participate in the sharing of the peace.  Communion was celebrated, but only the Words of Institution were used. The richness of the meal was diluted by its brevity.  This was likely unintentional, but for me the memory of the previous week’s worship, a sumptuous feast, was still very present in my mind.

Fourth, the Genesis text was “read” using a prerecorded soundtrack, with visual images.  This is not a critique of using that means, per se, but in this situation, the Word was not enriched but rather devalued as entertainment.  My sense of disembodiment occurred, I think, because we had already heard moments earlier a dramatic presentation of the Adam and Eve encounter with the serpent via similar means.  The Adam and Eve story was part of the children’s time, though none of my children seemed all that engaged by it.  For both cases, the question emerges: “What was lacking?”  I think the absence of real authentic action.  The Adam and Eve presentation could have been a very engaging “skit” had two young actors from the congregation been involved.  The Genesis reading likewise lacked a connection with the gathered community; it came from somewhere else, rather than emerging from among us. 

Fifth, the use of visual imagery projected on a screen during the readings (in this case, just two blank spaces on the wall on either side of the cross - a question about space that should be considered separately), did not enhance but diminished the worship.  In this specific case, the visual imagery detracted from worship because it became the primary focus for my attention due to the lack of any other activity in the assembly.  Paul Westermeyer writes in his article “Discernment” (Cross Accent, Vol 19, no. 1) about something akin to this, noting that spatial and temporal elements combine to bear the liturgical action:  “Gesture (ceremonial), garments (vestments), and art (icons, stained glass, and sculpture) sustain action across time and space, while music sustains it across time.  If the spatial elements are removed, music is left to bear all the freight.” (10)  Even though something else was happening (aural), the primary focus (visual) failed to bear the weight.

More thoughts about this particular worship (might be) forthcoming!  Especially, since I have not addressed the topic of being "sent forth."  CW