This summer, the elders in my congregation and I have exchanged a specific piece of the worship service that we lead. Since before I began serving as senior minister in this congregation, the pastor has been responsible for providing a short meditation before Communion each week. This summer, each of them has had the opportunity to offer this meditation/invitation to the Lord's Table. In exchange, I provided an offering meditation and prayer for the gifts offered -- typically something that the elders have led.
In our denominational tradition, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Communion is the centerpiece of worship. In key ways, it represents the heart of our shared theology of Christ's presence in our midst, of radical grace and acceptance, of the teaching of the New Testament about the centrality of the Lord's Supper and Baptism. Personally, I love the chance to reflect on part of what it means for us to gather and share Communion in the name of Jesus Christ.
Given its importance, many elders found the task of offering meaningful words before Communion to be daunting. As a pastor, I was thrilled that they each had the chance to reflect on the importance of the Lord's Supper in our community of faith. Many of them offered personal testimonies of how they have experienced Communion, which was wonderful (and probably followed the example that I often set). I know that it was a growing experience for each of them.
From my perspective, this was even better for the congregation as a whole. I think that we need to experience multiple voices when we worship together, not just the pastor's words. This is why Bible readings and congregational songs are a key part of worship. It is even better, though, when extra voices are shared from within the congregation, broadening our appreciation of God's handiwork in the world around us.
This view is not particularly unique. I think most Christians would agree with it. The challenge, of course, comes in how those voices are included. How many each week? Which ones? How much guidance do they need?
Collective history has created space for ministers to share their voices in worship services through sermons, prayers, and meditations. The same history, though, has frequently limited other voices -- sometimes for efficiency, sometimes because the other voices came from people who were not polished public speakers, and sometimes because "the powers that be" didn't care to hear anything those voices might say.
In light of this, I often feel that I have a pastoral responsibility to encourage the presence of other voices in worship. In some people's eyes, it probably appears that I am "giving permission" for others to speak. In a way, I suppose I am. In a broader sense, though, I hope that I am just shaping worship in a way that more completely represents all of the people in the congregation, rather than just those who are privileged (either in the eyes of the church or in the eyes of society).
This summer, I struggled with how to balance these impulses. I realized, from the first Sunday of our switch, that I was proud of our elders. This is probably too paternalistic to be completely healthy on my part. Some of this pride was excitement in our elders doing something new and doing their best, and I'm confident that celebrating spiritual growth and the spiritual gifts of others is a God-thing. I'm okay with that part. It's the other part of the pride -- where the generous pastor seemed to be giving them permission to speak -- that I figure is a human brokenness-thing.
On the whole, though, I thought it was effective. The congregation heard about the importance of communion, and the experiences and ideas that have shaped it, from others in the congregation. And I'm pleased that the elders already plan to lead this part of worship next summer as well. Who knows? This experience may lead them -- or others -- to find ways to add their voice in new ways to our worship services. That, I am convinced, would be good for everyone.
In our denominational tradition, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Communion is the centerpiece of worship. In key ways, it represents the heart of our shared theology of Christ's presence in our midst, of radical grace and acceptance, of the teaching of the New Testament about the centrality of the Lord's Supper and Baptism. Personally, I love the chance to reflect on part of what it means for us to gather and share Communion in the name of Jesus Christ.
Given its importance, many elders found the task of offering meaningful words before Communion to be daunting. As a pastor, I was thrilled that they each had the chance to reflect on the importance of the Lord's Supper in our community of faith. Many of them offered personal testimonies of how they have experienced Communion, which was wonderful (and probably followed the example that I often set). I know that it was a growing experience for each of them.
From my perspective, this was even better for the congregation as a whole. I think that we need to experience multiple voices when we worship together, not just the pastor's words. This is why Bible readings and congregational songs are a key part of worship. It is even better, though, when extra voices are shared from within the congregation, broadening our appreciation of God's handiwork in the world around us.
This view is not particularly unique. I think most Christians would agree with it. The challenge, of course, comes in how those voices are included. How many each week? Which ones? How much guidance do they need?
Collective history has created space for ministers to share their voices in worship services through sermons, prayers, and meditations. The same history, though, has frequently limited other voices -- sometimes for efficiency, sometimes because the other voices came from people who were not polished public speakers, and sometimes because "the powers that be" didn't care to hear anything those voices might say.
In light of this, I often feel that I have a pastoral responsibility to encourage the presence of other voices in worship. In some people's eyes, it probably appears that I am "giving permission" for others to speak. In a way, I suppose I am. In a broader sense, though, I hope that I am just shaping worship in a way that more completely represents all of the people in the congregation, rather than just those who are privileged (either in the eyes of the church or in the eyes of society).
This summer, I struggled with how to balance these impulses. I realized, from the first Sunday of our switch, that I was proud of our elders. This is probably too paternalistic to be completely healthy on my part. Some of this pride was excitement in our elders doing something new and doing their best, and I'm confident that celebrating spiritual growth and the spiritual gifts of others is a God-thing. I'm okay with that part. It's the other part of the pride -- where the generous pastor seemed to be giving them permission to speak -- that I figure is a human brokenness-thing.
On the whole, though, I thought it was effective. The congregation heard about the importance of communion, and the experiences and ideas that have shaped it, from others in the congregation. And I'm pleased that the elders already plan to lead this part of worship next summer as well. Who knows? This experience may lead them -- or others -- to find ways to add their voice in new ways to our worship services. That, I am convinced, would be good for everyone.
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