Ask most church-going folks what they love best about Sundays and they will likely point to two things, worship services and a day of rest (even if the latter is more idealized thinking than reality). Skimming the newspaper, listening to National Public radio, enjoying some waffles, and, oh yes, sliding into a pew for some hymns, prayers, and a sermon; what a lovely Lord’s day morning.
Except whereas the morning paper, NPR, and waffles are wonderful luxuries, turns out that worship is hard work. We come on Sundays and much is demanded of us. Have you noticed? I’m not just referring to the outdoor service where folks are encouraged to return their folding chairs. No, every service of worship places demands on us. Here’s a sample listing, along with some editorial comments:
Take a moment to greet those seated around you. (Can’t I just sit here inside my cocoon? I don’t even know some of these people.)
We are told to read responsively some words we had no part in writing. (I wonder what some of these phrases even mean.)
We are invited to sing a hymn, the choir singing the stanzas and then us joining in on the refrain. That’s for the first and last stanzas only. (How am I supposed to keep these directions straight?)
Please be seated. (Why so much up and down action? Are some songs better while seated?)
The prayer Jesus taught us. (I guess I can mumble my way through this one, although I’m pretty sure as a little kid it was “trespasses,” not “debts.”)
Stand for the doxology, sit for the Scripture reading, stand back up for that other song, and then sit for the sermon. (I work out at the gym three times a week already. Should I purchase a Fitbit?)
Come down the center aisle, take a piece of bread and dip it in the cup, before returning by the side aisle. Unless it’s the 11:00 service, in which case you need to eat the bread first, pass the tray, and hold the cup until all are ready. (Talk about bossy.)
Perhaps it helps to recall that the word liturgy does not refer to a more formal style of worship, complete with pipe organ, but literally translates as “the work of the people.” We come on Sundays and go through a lot of motions so that those motions might go through us, might shape us. And sure enough, even if we suffer from dementia at the end of our days and can’t recall what we had for breakfast, just hum a few notes of the Doxology and we will start singing, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow….” Turns out, worship works.
