Worship, 5 June 2011

11 AM Worship    5 June 2011        Easter 7

Impressions:  A steady stream of vehicles leaving the church as we approach suggests an active, busy community.  The community was involved with its “sending” portion of worship as we enter the doors.  Clearly the people gathered in the space are greeting each other and wrapping up details from the previous service.  There is no obvious welcome table or effort to help us, as guests, know what bulletins to take or where to gather.  We enter the sanctuary and sit down. 

The praise band is playing lively and upbeat music; the second piece is in a honkytonk style.  On a positive note, the band consists of very capable musicians (a necessary element of success for this style of worship.)  However, the music is very loud - too loud for me to have a conversation with my daughter Eleanor. 

I think of the aspect of “gathering” described in Jonathan Linman’s book (“Holy Conversation”) that necessitates conversation.  If we are to be a community that gathers together to encounter God, and to bring our concerns, hopes, prayers, joys and so forth to worship, we need to be able to “reacquaint” with each other by conversing prior to worship.  Perhaps the conversation between regulars is happening in the narthex. 

On the other hand, I think of the aspect of “gathering” that demands setting the tone for worship.  In this case, the tone is one of a street dance or barroom.  Although the music is engaging, I am not situated to encounter the holy.  (I would be happy to hear some of these songs at the Rock Bend Folk Festival, for example.)

All music and texts are projected on screens.  I am pleased that the songs are presented with musical notation.  This is a blessing and a curse.  For some of the pieces, the rhythmic syncopations present a difficult score to read.  Nor does the leader always sing  the melody as notated. But even so, I can approximate the tune that I should sing. The congregation does not really sing much, though.  The room is acoustically dry, so that my own voice sounds isolated.  Also, the presentation of the songs has the character of being “sung to.”  In the second song we sing, the repeated refrain elicits a louder response from the congregation.  And, following the baptism, the congregation easily sings “Baptized in Water” (tune:  Bunessan).  Clearly, the predictable rhythms and folk-like quality engender communal singing.  So does predictability (note the success of the refrain of the second song.)

Regarding screens, Beth appreciates the freedom they allow, in that she isn’t fumbling with a hymnal and her bulletin.  She finds that her attention is directed forward, to the activity in the front.  I counter that screens are an element of the entertainment culture from which the concept of the praise band is borrowed.  We are screen oriented and not people oriented.  The sanctuary is a large space, and for some, I’m sure the ability to see the baptism via the screen is pleasing.  I welcomed pointing out the distant action to Eleanor.  Beth notes two other aspects about screen singing.  I had pondered whether screens limit our ability to sing harmony, since presenting harmony in notation would be cumbersome.  Beth counters with thoughts from Patricia Kazarow that printed parts spelled the demise of singing in harmony.  True, Alice Parker advocates that we use our ears and create our own harmony.  But, seeing musical notation is one way to learn to sing independently, too.  Beth also finds that screens are yet another way of individualizing worship.  Each person is no longer dependent upon a neighbor (who could hold a hymnal for a mother with a baby in arms or who could offer assistance to a lost worshipper.) 

Concerning participation, I’m not convinced that it is the style of music which limits engagement, but the presentation.  Could a complicated rhythmic song be taught via call and response?  Is repetition the key?  Do acoustics matter?  Why, for example, at a Peter Yarrow concert a few weeks ago, did Peter have us all singing quite well “Leaving on a Jet Plane?”  Was it just prior familiarity?  (Because the rhythm of that song is certainly not foursquare.)

At this service, congregational participation was limited to some tepid singing, the recitation of the Apostles’ creed, a confession prior to communion, and the Lord’s prayer.  Most of my activity was passive, and at about 40 minutes into the service, I was antsy and ready to be done.  As far as entertainment goes, this “show” was not that engaging.  As far as worship goes, there was little that I could actually do to participate.  Too many familiar liturgical elements were missing.  The gathering music did not join us together.  There was no dialogue (i.e. responses after the readings or within the intercessory prayers.)  There was no sharing of the peace, nor the dialogue of the Great Thanksgiving.  It was far too easy to be a spectator at this service and not feel uncomfortable about it.

What was the tone of the service?  Pleasant satisfaction with life.  An hour of entertainment.  But not an encounter with God.

How well were we welcomed into the community?  We were allowed anonymity, which might be part of the appeal of a large mega-church.    However, to my surprise, there were no admonitions that communion was only for the initiated believers of the church denomination.  A statement of beliefs was projected on the screen during communion, but they did not explicitly prohibit communion for any worshipper.   We were allowed into the community, but never particularly invited into the community.  (I should note however, that we were at this church because a friend of ours had invited us earlier in the week.)