Participating and spectating

We recently spent a couple of nights in Durham (far too short!). Durham is a wonderful place, which has never failed to inspire and delight me/us.

As ever we visited the magnificent cathedral. Access to part of it was restricted as they were preparing for Evensong, which is fair enough - it is a working church after all. We wandered around the unrestricted bit, then headed to the cafeteria for a cup of tea and a wee cake (very nice).

When we went back into the cathedral, Evensong had started. The choir were singing and there was a small group of people at the back of the cathedral listening, so I joined them. I don't know what the choir were singing, but it was polished and clear and wonderful to listen to ... but then I realised that I was a spectator at a performance rather than a participant in an act of worship.

This was a real contrast to our visit to St Nic's in the Market Place on Sunday morning. The service wasn't polished, the music was competent but not brilliant - but the atmosphere was warm and a sense of worship and togetherness filled the place.

What's the difference? It was nothing to do with the cathedral, and everything to do with me. I didn't go to the cathedral expecting to be part of a church service, and I didn't adjust my mindset when I was inside either. The difference is about 'coming expectantly' and offering ourselves in worship - participating not just spectating.

The nature of the kingdom

This is not the blog that I intended to post today, but my thinking was overtaken by a combination of things that I read this morning.

First and foremost was a passage from Luke’s gospel – the words of Jesus that struck me were:

“The kingdom of God does not come visibly … because the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:20-21)

This is an extraordinary/revolutionary thought – not because it turned the religious thinking of the time on its head (which it did). But, if the kingdom of God is within us, then we contain/constrain it. We must release it in the lives we lead – our acts and attitudes.

The integrity of the kingdom depends on our integrity.

The demonstration of God’s love depends on our love… And so it goes on.

Then I turned to John V Taylor’s “The Incarnate God” (and I quote at length):

“The true meaning of the prayer ‘Your Kingdom come’ ought to be a subject of supreme importance for all Christians…

…this is why Jesus invented the parable as his particular method of preaching. A parable does not convince people by arguing; it simply offers the truth to their imagination as a gift to be taken by those who have ears to hear and ignored by those who have not…

The second innovation which Jesus brought to his preaching of the Kingdom was to call men and women to live the life of the Kingdom here and now in anticipation of its arrival… we must be like him and reflect his nature in all our relationships.”

All of which left me with a question – summed up by Heschel:

“We cannot endure the heartbreaking splendor of sunsets. Of what avail, then, are opinions, words, dogmas?”

My conclusion, so far as I have one - how we worship through our living will always outweigh the words that we use.

Church will eat itself… I hope!

Last week I caught the end of “Pop Britannia – Two Tribes” on BBC Four. It was a documentary looking at the “struggle between the forces of art and commerce” in British pop music over the last 30 years. You know the kind of thing –

Stock, Aitken, Waterman versus Blur
X-Factor or Arctic Monkeys

It was well presented and quite uplifting to recall how the radical edge has always re-surfaced to challenge the production line approach. Towards the end the presenter comments:

“British pop always eats itself and creates something totally new.”

Hence the title for this entry.

For a long time now, I’ve been frustrated by the ‘production line’ approach to church services. The same basic formula week in, week out. Where is the innovation? The pulsating, creative response to our Creator God? John Drane wrote a book called ‘The McDonaldization of the Church’ and I fear that’s exactly where we’ve reached.

Time to take a fresh look, try some new approaches, different emphases.

Why do we limit our worship for a limitless God?