A
minister for whom I was to read the scripture for his sermon delayed giving me
the reference until, minutes before worship, I asked again. “Oh, I’m glad you
reminded me,” he said, “Let me find it.” And he began thumbing through his
Bible for the reading with which he seemed to have spent little time.
Another
minister once told me he had tried “that meditation and prayer stuff,” but rather
proudly announced he had never really “got it.”
A
Roman Catholic priest for whom I served as his first Protestant friend began looking
at the texts and preparing for his Sunday homilies on Wednesdays rather than
Saturdays, he said, because of my influence.
The
pastor whom I credit with my becoming Presbyterian in college had an
intelligent, deep spirituality that blossomed in solid preaching and social activism.
He wrote his sermons in phrases, as if they were poetry, and I am grateful he
gave me a few of his manuscripts upon retirement. One especially memorable
sermon was about “The One Remembered Line” we sometimes take from a sermon that
gets us through the week.
A
college religious studies professor remarked to us, his students, that in his
first parish job description, he insisted on having twenty hours per week for
reading, study, reflection, prayer and sermon preparation. Another professor
admitted becoming increasingly hesitant to enter a pulpit, believing more and
more that preaching is such an awesome responsibility, something I couldn’t altogether
understand then but a feeling with which I resonate with age.
And
the activist pastor I first worked alongside after graduation from seminary explained
to me that he woke daily at 6 a.m. for two hours of prayer, reading, and
silence, having been reared a Quaker.
While
“acknowledging his [or her] poverty,” Pope Francis writes, “The Sunday readings
will resonate in all their brilliance in the hearts of the faithful if they
have first done so in the heart of their pastor.” He quotes Thomas Aquinas that
preaching should be “communicating to others what one has contemplated.”
He
encourages preachers in the practice of lectio
divina, a mindful and prayerful reading of scripture. During the men’s
monastic retreat I attended a couple of weeks ago, we practiced lectio divina with John 14:1-14, a text
which Jesus begins, “Let not your hearts be troubled.” The phrase I gravitated
to was Jesus saying “I will take you to myself.”
When
that was the gospel the following week, I, as guest preacher, invited Ormewood
Park Presbyterian Church to do lectio
divina with the text, providing a copy for everyone, giving a chance for
each to share the phrase that spoke to them. I knew this scripture would
resonate in the heart of a congregation that faced so many recent challenges. I explained that, were Sunday worship
reinvented, this might be a desirable practice.
Giving
it still more thought, it occurred to me that Sunday texts could be assigned
much like a church potluck. Instead of last names beginning with A-F bringing
salads, they could read the Hebrew lesson in preparation for worship. Instead
of main dishes, G-L might contemplate the Psalm for the day, while M-R could
reflect on the Epistle lesson. And instead of bringing desserts, S-Z could
meditate on the Gospel. To be fair, a
congregation should rotate the assignments. To be honest, I have experienced
abundant as well as sparse church potlucks, so it depends on the spiritual investment
and generosity of the congregation as to how this will turn out!
Often
we want church leadership “to do it all for us,” rather than doing our own
spiritual work. But my experience is that people attracted to spiritual
formation are eager to do their own work, in the spirit of the apostle Paul’s
advice to the church of Corinth: “When
you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an
interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.”
For
me, the “punch line” of the men’s monastic retreat came when our leader, Carl
McColman, who has written his own excellent and readable The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, recounted once being asked by
an interviewer on a program, “If you could recommend only one book on Christian
mysticism, what would it be?” To which Carl responded, surprising the host, “Why,
the Bible, of course!”
+++
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Quickly.
ReplyDeleteI have had wonder FULL worship and growth experiences among groups who share with each other what they can bring to our times together.
I have felt utterly intimidated at times when too many thought they "brought the gifts of discernment and interpretation" in response to what others shared.
"I will take you to myself" does "it" for me everytime.