Please Let’s Stop Calling It “Virtual” Worship

“You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.”

― Frederick Buechner FaceBook post by Frederick Buechner from Mar 04, 2015

A note on digital and livestream worship in the early days of the coronavirus crisis:

After this first week of almost everyone being brave and creative in fast-learning how to offer devotions, Bible studies, and even worship services online, most of us pastors are reeling from the frenzy of acquiring so many new skills in such a short time. I deeply appreciate our staff and my tech-savvy friends in helping us to stay connected and take care of our people in new ways.  I’m enjoying the response we have received from our online experiences and am thankful for the availability of the technology to help us reach out when we cannot be physically present to one another. It is heartening to see so many of us finding new ways to be in ministry.

What I am not enjoying is the use of the term “Virtual Worship.” Also, “Virtual Communion.”  Hear me out.

I am aware that for my computer-literate friends the word “virtual” refers to something that exists in digital media or virtual reality, as in a virtual classroom, but is still considered to exist. But for the rest of the civilized world, the word “virtual” implies something that is not really real:

“vir·tu·al  (vûr′cho͞o-əl) adj.

1. Existing or resulting in essence or effect though not in actual fact, form, or name: the virtual extinction of the buffalo.
2. Existing in the mind, especially as a product of the imagination. Used in literary criticism of a text.”
American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fifth Edition. Copyright © 2016 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.

Do you believe in the communion of saints? Do you believe in the mystical body of Christ?

As a Celtic Christian mystic, a bit of an existentialist, an old hippie and a pastor who happens to hold a doctorate in spiritual formation, I believe in these things. It matters less if you “believe” it intellectually/theologically than if you EXPERIENCE it spiritually.

I believe we worship a God who is not confined by space and time. I believe when we come to the Lord’s Table on World Communion Sunday or any other Sunday, that Jesus is present and so also are the Great Cloud of Witnesses from all ages, nations, and places.

This is why we are not going to pre-record our services and upload them later. I know, we had some upload traffic jams when everyone was trying to “go live” all at once; and it certainly is nice to be able to edit your work before sharing it. But a primary spiritual practice we teach is that of Christian Mindfulness, the art of being present in the present moment, which is really all we have and is the only place to find God. Jesus spoke almost always in the PRESENT tense (“I AM the resurrection and the life, etc.).  There is something special about worshiping in real-time with our parishioners and guests being aware that we are experiencing the present moment together with them spiritually, if not physically.

This is also why we will not be doing drive-by Holy Communion. Our Bishop has offered a temporary dispensation allowing either to dispense the pre-packaged units on a take-out basis or to consecrate elements from a distance and have persons partake of their own bread and wine at home. We will do the at-home option with adequate preparation for the worshipers beforehand.  We won’t be using the pre-packaged elements because 1) many hands will touch this; and 2) because that won’t be contemporaneous, and 3) people will have to get out and come get it, therefore defeating the purpose of the CDC directive to STAY HOME.

We believe the covenant community of faith is not bound by physical location, but that Christ is present in the bread in the sanctuary and in the bread at your table while you are saving lives by staying at home. It is not just our presence with each other but the Presence of the living Christ that transforms an ordinary meal into a sacrament. One aspect of this is as Will Willimon once pointed out, that God reveals God-self to us in the “ordinary stuff of life” – bread, wine, water. Christ is the unseen Guest at our meals, and when we experience that together, he is both Guest and Host.

So, call it an “Extension of our Table,” if you will, but please, let’s not call it “virtual worship” or “Virtual Communion.”  This is really, really, real.

“When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.”

― Frederick Buechner FaceBook post by Frederick Buechner from Sep 11, 2016

YOU’VE COME FAR, PILGRIM

 As an avid outdoors person and lover of wild things and wild places, Jeremiah Johnson has for many years been my favorite movie.  I have often thought of the subtle, almost archetypal spiritual imagery in the movie.  Prominent themes of dangerous journeys, life transitions, moving toward spiritual maturity (“higher ground”), great adventures, the wilderness experience as a symbol of finding one’s way in life, leaving behind painful memories and the value of a wise mentor are all features of the movie that are important to me in life and in the practice of ministry.

The first time we meet the main character, he is arriving at the headwaters of the Missouri River in what is now Montana.  He wears a military hat and is apparently a veteran of the Mexican War.  Having come from somewhere “back east,” he arrives here after having “said goodbye to whatever life was down below.” 

Throughout the movie it becomes evident that Johnson is on a solitary trek into the wilderness in search of a new life.  Of course, the wilderness motif is a powerful image of life transitions and is one which I sometimes use in spiritual direction..  This is an image most people can understand, even if they are not familiar with its frequent use in the Old and New Testaments. I might ask, do you ever feel as though you were in the wilderness right now, between one place and another, becoming prepared for the next stage in your life?

It also becomes evident throughout the movie that Jeremiah (a nice, biblical name) leaves behind some painful memories and experiences, some things that he wished had turned out differently.  Apparently, something has happened in his life that was so painful the he is determined to leave everything behind – everything – and start a new life in a new place far away from all the painful memories.  Often we encounter folks who have felt the need to relocate, find a change of scenery entirely in order to move toward healing from painful memories.  But even with this location change, some of these issues can remain unresolved until one does the inner work required.

The fact we are told he said goodbye to whatever life was “down below” suggests a change in altitude –  his new life is literally in the high country, reminiscent of the way the spiritual life is often thought of in images of ascent to higher altitudes, like Thomas Merton’s Seven Story Mountain, or Hannah Hurnard’s Hind’s Feet on High Places.  The trek of Jeremiah Johnson is more than a new beginning.  It is symbolic of the journey toward spiritual maturity, leaving the old life behind and discovering the new.  His odyssey is a metaphor for the stages of spiritual development. 

At first, Jeremiah is inept in his new surroundings.  An Indian sees him trying to catch a fish and laughs at him.  He has a hard time building a fire, finding food, and coping with his new life in general.  He is a novice.  Harsh winters, empty traps, elusive fish, hostile Native Americans, frustrate his new beginning.  Spiritual maturity comes at a price. 

Before long Johnson is discovered and befriended by “Bear Claws” Chris Lapp. Bear Claws is old, gray, and wise in the way of the woods.  He teaches Johnson the life skills he will need, along with giving him advice on how to deal with the Native Americans in the area.  He becomes the archetypal sage, the mentor.  He is also the archetypal trickster, from whom comes much wisdom!  When Johnson first meets Bear Claws, the old man says, “I know who you are; you’re the same dumb pilgrim I’ve been hearin’ for twenty days and smellin’ for three.”  Henceforth Johnson is referred to as “Pilgrim.”  After Bear Claws has mentored Johnson and taught him some high-country survival skills, Johnson sets off once again on his own.  Bear Claws is not out of the picture though: they will meet again.

Jeremiah’s journey from this point is fraught with danger and difficulty, unexpected twists and turns, sadness and sorrow.  By the time he sees his mentor again, he is battle-scarred and weary.  But he would not turn back, even if he could.  Another mountain man, by the name of Del Gue, suggests he might want to return to a town.  “I’ve been to a town, Del,” he says. You can’t go back.

At some point in our lives we are Johnson the pilgrim, and later we become Bear Claws, the wizened mentor.  As pilgrims we are seeking higher ground, and gradually learning the skills of life in the high country, then we get to companion others who are in the process of negotiating the wilderness and finding their way again.

Near the end of the movie, Johnson reconnects with Bear Claws, who still calls him “Pilgrim.”  “You’ve come far, Pilgrim,” he points out.  “Feels like far,” is the response.  “Were it worth the trouble?”  “Ah?  What trouble?” 

The journey is not often easy, but it is always worth the trouble.

“I hope you will fare well.”

MORE THAN JUST CHICKEN

"We should be about more than just selling chicken. We should be part of our customers' lives and the communities in which we serve."

S. Truett Cathy

1921-2014

When I was in seminary back in the 1980’s I attended chapel service on campus almost every week. The speaker in chapel one day was Mr. Truett Cathy, the founder and owner of Chick fil-A restaurants. Mr. Cathy was a devout Christian man, and his faith informed the way he did business and the way he treated his customers and his employees. Since 1964, the organization has been a leader in innovation in food preparation, restaurant design, human resources, and things like “Upstream Ordering” and “Upcycling.”   

 I was instantly taken with Mr. Cathy’s sense of focus, his business philosophy, his ideas about treatment of fast food staff, and the ways he lived out his faith in his business. From the beginning, for example, Chick fil-A stores were always closed on Sundays, because “Our founder, Truett Cathy, made the decision to close on Sundays in 1946 when he opened his first restaurant in Hapeville, Georgia. Having worked seven days a week in restaurants open 24 hours, Truett saw the importance of closing on Sundays so that he and his employees could set aside one day to rest and worship if they choose - a practice we uphold today.” This was not just a statement of his faith but about his commitment to his employees. This was revolutionary since in the beginning all the Chick fil-A stores were located in shopping malls where the busiest days were on the weekends. His friends said he was crazy and that he would go broke being closed on Sundays.

The shopping mall was the center of urban retail through the 70’s and 80’s, and that was where all the stores were located. But the retail landscape changed; the immediate context changed; the business environment changed; and Chick fil-A was smart enough to change with it (let this be a lesson for the Church). They began to open their first free-standing stores which were still strategically located to serve the shop-and-eat market and other places where quality fast food is in demand. Today you can find Chick fil-A in hospital cafeterias, airports, college campuses, and urban retail centers throughout the USA. As far as I know, no one in corporate headquarters complained that “We’ve never done it that way before.” They never forgot what business they were in or why they existed.

About fifteen years after I met Truett Cathy in seminary, my daughter Liz got her first job working for Chick fil-A in Conway, Arkansas. She would remain with the organization for six years, all the way through high school and college. When she interviewed for the job, she was told that every employee learns the company’s mission: “We are not here to serve chicken, but to serve people.” If you did not understand this, you did not need to work for Chick fil-A. I was glad she got the opportunity to work for a company with this kind of business philosophy.

As long as Truett Cathy was alive, he never allowed Chick fil-A managers and staff to forget why the organization exists and why they do what they do. Once his son Dan took his eye off the ball and regrettably got involved in one of the culture wars of the day, but he learned his lesson and returned to the core mission and purpose of the organization.  The Church can profit by his example.

                                                                        Yours in Christ,

                                                                        Dr. Bill <)))’>

AN AIRBORNE RECOVERY MONDAY

 The Monday after Easter Sunday is referred to by some of us as “Clergy/Staff Recovery Day.” It’s been six and a half weeks since Ash Wednesday which began a long season of spiritual intensity plodding through Lent, rising to a crescendo during Holy Week, and culminating in a rousing climax on Resurrection Day. This Monday is the day for pastors and worship leaders to pause, reflect, and catch their breath. The season of Lent/Easter this year has been for me like no other. Recovery Monday has become a pivotal moment. 

On Ash Wednesday my sermon was, as usual, about letting go. Not just about giving something up, or taking something on, but simply about letting go. But even letting go is only half of the story. What are you letting go of, and what are you laying hold of? Letting go of something always leaves a void unless and until it is replaced by something else. Now on Recovery Monday I thought to myself, now that Lent is over, what is being released, and what is being embraced?

 This year the answer to that question was easy. On Ash Wednesday I was carrying a secret that I could not yet reveal. The day before, I had received a call from the cabinet about accepting another appointment. Neither I nor the congregation I served had asked for a change in appointment, so this unexpected development was something I was just beginning to process as I began to lead the flock into Lent and all the way to Easter.

On Recovery Monday, I was talking on the phone with one of our worship leaders and she remarked that she was happy we had such a meaningful Holy Week since it was my last Holy Week here. “Your last Holy Week here.” Those words caught in my mind. Even through we are itinerant pastors, there is still a grieving process for us to go through as we prepare to leave behind memories and relationships and prepare to make new ones. 

Henri Nouwen loved the circus. At one time he took his father to see a trapeze troupe known as the Flying Rodleighs, and he became deeply enthralled with them. He went to see them several times, and finally he introduced himself to them. They allowed him to attend their practice sessions, invited him to dinner, and he actually became kind of a “groupie” and friend of the Rodleighs. Nouwen describes one of this conversations with them in a talk he once gave on death and dying:  
        

One day, I was sitting with Rodleigh, the leader of the troupe, in his caravan, talking about flying. He said, "As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher. The public might think that I am the great star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split-second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump."

            "How does it work?" I asked.

"The secret," Rodleigh said, "is that the flyer does nothing and the catcher does everything. When I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait for him to catch me and pull me safely over the apron behind the catchbar."

"You do nothing!" I said, surprised.

"Nothing," Rodleigh repeated. "The worst thing the flyer can do is to try to catch the catcher. I am not supposed to catch Joe. It's Joe's task to catch me. If I grabbed Joe's wrists, I might break them, or he might break mine, and that would be the end for both of us. A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch, and the flyer must trust, with outstretched arms, that his catcher will be there for him."[1]

While Henri Nouwen was using this as a metaphor for letting go of this earthly life and reaching out to be “caught” by God in the life to come, it can also be applied to many of our transitions in life. For those of us who are moving, we are being called to let go from holding onto our status quo, and “trust the catcher” to be there for us in the next place of service! We don’t have to catch the catcher (God) – the Catcher will be there to catch us!

---

[1] From Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying and Caring by Henri Nouwen

COFFEE IN HEAVEN?

With the coffee house beginning to take shape I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about coffee – its origins, production, quality, and properties. Most people who know me have seen me often with a cup of coffee in my hand. In times of theological speculation, I’ve often wondered if there will be coffee in heaven. I wonder if it would be a surprise to be met at the Pearly Gates with a steaming cup?

The first time I ever appreciated a cup of coffee was forty-odd years ago in a remote piece of Mississippi River backwater swamp known as Kings Point Island, not far from Vicksburg. I climbed a tree a full hour before the sun came up and was prepared to wait all morning for a deer to come by. Sitting there in the dark I realized that an Arctic front had blasted through during the night. By eight o’clock I was shaking so hard from the cold that I could hear my bones rattling and I had lost all feeling in my feet. It was then that I remembered my dad’s best friend who was hunting only about a quarter of a mile away and had a thermos of coffee with him. Fifteen minutes later I was holding a cup of the warm dark liquid between my gloved hands and it was the best stuff I’d ever tasted. I’ve been hooked on coffee ever since.

Coffee also reminds me of my Ole Miss days. During my last two years in Oxford I worked in a small restaurant where I eventually rose through the ranks to be placed in charge of the afternoon and night shift. This being my first real job, I took it quite seriously. We were losing money in the afternoon lull, primarily because our only business consisted of coffee drinkers who would pay 25 cents for a cup of coffee, get four or five free refills, and pour a nickel’s worth of sugar on the table each time. I started cooking peach cobblers and other minor delicacies and hawking them to the coffee clientele, which enhanced both our cash flow and our profit margin. Being a student of political philosophy, I enjoyed the sometimes-spirited afternoon coffee-and-cobbler conversation, which ranged everywhere from Nietzsche to Nixon.

Coffee makes me think of long nights during my seminary years in New Orleans, pouring cups of chicory-laced brown coffee that was so strong it seeped out through your pores and you could smell it on your skin. It makes me think of sitting in the hot dampness of Cafe’ du Monde’s courtyard, drinking coffee, hearing sidewalk Dixieland jazz, studying the preachers of the first Great Awakening, and watching tugboats and barges come down the river.

Coffee reminds me of long planning meetings for building programs and capital campaigns, where we all were so dedicated that we stayed until the meeting was over and our work was done. It reminds me of the Perryville waitress named Sharon who would come by and fill my cup, smile, and call me “Sunshine.” It reminds me of good Disciple Bible Study groups and cool football nights and many of my favorite coffee cups. Coffee reminds me of some of the things in life that don’t change too quickly.  It reminds me of many good people who have come into and out of my life and have helped make me who I am.

Yes, I believe there will be coffee in heaven. I’ll see Dad’s best friend who will smile and pour me a cup from his thermos and tell me about the deer that just went by him. I’ll see the saucy Oxford girls who used to work with me in the restaurant and taught me how to make peach cobblers. I’ll see my old Baptist friend who got me a job down in the Garden District with all the free chicory coffee I wanted. I’ll hear the wail of my little bean grinding machine, which sounds like it’s spinning up the engines of a 747.  I’ll smell the warm aroma of hospitality and welcome and hazelnut and powdered-sugar French-Market beignets. It’s because heaven contains all of your favorite things, some of the things that bring you close to people and make you feel warm and safe and alive and real. Heaven promises to be filled with all the things that speak to you of kindness and connectedness and life and vitality and love. For many people it won’t be coffee but in my case, I figure St. Peter will put on a pot when he sees me coming.
                                                                Yours in Christ,
                                                        Dr. Bill >)))'>

YOU CAN SAVE THE WORLD:

WONDER WOMAN AND HEATHER HEYER

 This June, I went and watched the Wonder Woman movie while it was playing in our town. Like most boys, I was a big fan of Marvel comic books when I was a young lad. I liked the movie so much this year that I went back and watched it again, something I rarely do.

This time I took some notes about the literary movement in the Wonder Woman story plot. The power in any fiction story lies in the change of mind or heart in the main characters.  In the case of Wonder Woman, it is a classic tale of movement from innocence lost to consciousness gained.  

The movie begins with Diana Prince slowly discovering her origins and her destiny to save her people and, beyond that, to “save the world.” In her youthful innocence, she believes that she must defeat the source of evil in the world, which in this case is personified as Aries, the Greek god of war (he might as well have been personified as Satan). She expresses her personal mission statement in one great, brief soliloquy: “Zeus created men [sic] to be strong and wise, just and compassionate. Once I destroy Aries, there will be good men again and the world will be better.”

Her journeys take her from battle to battle to battle, pointless war to pointless war, until she finally confronts Aries himself, and with great difficulty and violence, defeats him. To her shock, grief and dismay, the treachery and fighting and hate among humans continues unabated. 

Diana staggers and reels in grief over the dashing of her innocent belief about the defeat of evil. Her companion enlightens her: “Aries or no Aries, it’s not just one bad guy to blame, it’s us.”

Eventually she wins the day’s battle, but she has learned there are no permanent victories over evil. Her lost innocence gives way to consciousness, and consciousness always comes at a price.

In the end, she understands her true mission and the reality that defines it:

“I used to want to save the world, to end war and bring peace to mankind. But then I glimpsed the darkness that lives within their light. I learnt that inside every one of them there will always be both. The choice each must make for themselves – something no hero will ever defeat. And now I know…that only love can save the world. So now I stay, I fight, and I give – for the world I know can be. This is my mission now, forever” (Diana Prince, “Wonder Woman”).

On Saturday, August 12, 2017, an American woman was killed fighting Nazis, on American soil.

NAZIS. On American soil. Let that sink in for a moment.

Heather Heyer was thirty-two years old. She was killed by a speeding automobile that was deliberately driven into a crowd of men and women seeking peace and resisting racist hate. Friends said she dedicated her life to standing up for those who had not been heard or respected. She died standing up for what she believed in, and what she believed in was love.

Diana Prince (“Wonder Woman”): “I used to want to save the world, this beautiful place. But the closer you get, the more you see the great darkness simmering within. I learnt this the hard way, a long, long time ago.”

“It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love. Only love will truly save the world.”

Our bishop sent out a letter in response to the hate attacks in Charlottesville last week. In that letter, he reminded us that we, as United Methodists, have made these promises to God and each other in our baptismal/membership vows:

“On behalf of the whole Church, I ask you:

Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin?

Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?

Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the Church which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations, and races?

According to the grace given to you, will you remain faithful members of Christ's holy Church and serve as Christ's representatives in the world?”

As hate has reared its ugly head once again and seems to be more and more enabled, emboldened and energized, some of those on the front lines at Charlottesville last week were CLERGY, from various races and denominations, praying and ministering as Jesus himself would do. 

Two scriptures have come to mind in the aftermath of these events and have stayed there:

"Anyone who says 'I love God' and hates their brothers or sisters are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also" (I John 20-21).

"The only thing that matters is faith working through love" (Galatians 5:6).

“So now I stay, I fight, and I give – for the world I know can be. This is my mission now, forever.” “Only love can truly change the world.”

                                                           Yours in Christ,
                                                            Dr. Bill >)));>

 ASH Wednesday 2017

“Dust you are and to dust you will return.  Repent and believe the gospel.”

Jesus emerged from his baptism and was immediately led into the wilderness where he was tempted, tested, for forty days. In those days he fasted.  Our forty days parallel Jesus’s forty days. Like him, our days are to be marked with fasting or self-denial. This is why the tradition of “giving up” something.

So let’s not trivialize the giving-up like our culture tends to try to trivialize, commercialize, or weaponize almost everything else.  A friend of mine pointed out some new trends for Lent which include “Lent selfies” and “Ash-tags for Lent” which he finds particularly atrocious and I agree.

Jesus went to the wilderness where he would be tested at the point of his identity. God said at his baptism, “You are my Son.”  Satan would challenge that. The enemy will test you and challenge you at the point of who you are, who you think you are, and whose you are.

When you ask what you should give up for Lent, it’s not that complicated: be prepared to give up, set aside, let go of, or forsake whatever it is that is keeping you from being and becoming who you really are. Our true self is obscured by the false self that we present to the world. That is why the mask is a symbol of the pre-Lenten celebration of Mardi Gras.  We are not asked to give up chewing gum or chocolate or red meat or clean out our closets or learn to jump on one foot. It’s much more serious than that: we are asked to give up the masks that we hide behind.

Frederick Buechner has said, ‘During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask, one way or another, what it means to be themselves.”

What might it be that is keeping you from becoming who you really are? What is preventing you from staying on the path to fulfill God’s loving purpose for your life? That can be some habit, a preoccupation, an obsession, a distraction, a pet sin, an old wound, some hate, rage or bitterness, or even a relationship that has become stifling and unhealthy rather than life-giving. 

The ashes of Ash Wednesday are an ancient and biblical sign of repentance and a symbol of mortality, reminding us of the brevity and preciousness of this earthly life, reminding us that life is short and each day of it is a precious gift of God that should treated with reverence and care.  We are on loan to each other for a time; we belong ultimately to God and to God we will one day return.  Life is a gift and each day contains an opportunity to become the person God knows we already are – that is, if we remove the impediments and the distractions.

So when you are praying and asking God what your Lenten practice for this year should be, ask: where is the sacrifice in this? Where is the self-denial for the sake of fulfilling God’s loving purpose for my life? How does this contribute to the emergence and growth of my true self as a child of God?  Then make your choice and ask God for the grace to see it through all the way to Easter.

Yours in Christ,

Dr. Bill >)))’>