Church 2.0

What is the future of the church?

I find that question to be particularly apt in the days following Easter. The disciples and followers of Christ must have asked themselves the same question two millenia ago. The faithful have asked themselves the same thing at many points - from persecution in Rome, through schisms and Reformations, to the discovery of new worlds, through multiple wars and clashes of faith, and in the face of skepticism and atheism.

One of the difficulties of answering the question is that the status quo is always so comfortable, and rabble rousers are so rarely welcome. At one point in my life, I was the executive director of a children's theatre company in which artistic criticism was not always welcome. There were volunteers and board members who simply wanted to say nothing but good things about every child and every show.

But that attitude is counter-productive. People eventually notice that the emperor isn't wearing any clothes. In the setting of a theatre or a church, they may not speak up to voice criticism, but they may simply stop volunteering, stop participating, stop attending. How can we continue to reach out?

Does the answer lie online? My little effort here is a bit of an experiment, and the Pope famously urged priests to join Facebook last year. CNN recently ran this story on a pastor whose sermons often reach the President. But the web can never supplant every aspect of church - especially the sense of community, voices raised together in song and prayer. So perhaps this is only one tool in a multi-pronged effort.

But as every theatre troupe knows, a group that is not growing is dying. So what do we do and where is our future? A good question to ponder this week, in historical context and for our own congregations.

Easter music

This Sunday marks a huge musical transition. The minor key Lenten music will be swept away for the joyous tunes of Easter. We will have a brass quartet enhancing much of our music, as well. We will be hearing and singing the music of triumph at this climax of the Passion narrative.

To write about the hymns we all know so well seems almost superfluous. We'll be singing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" and "Christ is Alive, Let Christians Sing!" I hope that we'll have a full church with everyone singing loudly and proudly. I know most of us in the Cleveland area have been in a great mood this week thanks to the warm weather, and I hope that boisterous mood suffuses our worship as well.

I would like to draw your attention to the prelude, because our guest French horn player Jon will be playing Strauss's "Nocturno." It is a common piece in the horn repertoire, and it's loved for its beautifully flowing melody. I think it will serve as a nice transition from Holy Week to the triumphal march of our processional hymn.

I know the church will be full of beautiful flowers. (Sitting up front is even better because you can smell all of the fragrant lilies and hyacinth!) I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday - Alleluia!

Six services in eight days

If you needed proof that Easter is more important in the church calendar than Christmas, I think the count of services alone can provide some evidence! It's definitely the busy time of year for church musicians (as well as clergy, volunteers, and congregations, of course).

The interesting thing, however, is that while I spend more time in the church and play more hymns, I actually end up playing less organ repertoire. For one thing, guest musicians get put to work on Palm Sunday and Easter, but we also observe the continuity of the story by not having a postlude on Maundy Thursday and by having neither a prelude nor postlude on Good Friday.

During this week, we spend more time in silence. Our Wednesday evening services have also represented this meditative mood of Lent. At several points in the service, we observe a moment of silence. Typically, I'm a bit preoccupied with thinking about the next moment in the service, because it is often a hymn.

I appreciate the silence as the necessary canvas for the art of music, and I savor the change in pace from the noise of our lives. But I also wonder about the liturgical intention of those moments. Whereas the ELW sometimes notes very specifically the purpose of silence ("Silence for self-reflection," for example), at other places it simply notes, "A moment of silence follows." Is that a moment for prayer? For meditation? To listen? Or just to rest and take a moment to "be" rather than "do"? Maybe it can be all of those things, dependent on many factors.

I heard the host of "Radio Lab" preach on the story of the sacrifice of Isaac, and he noted that even though Abraham often spoke and even argued with God that when given such a strange order, the story progresses without recording any dialogue, simply an implied silence. Silence can be obedient or rebellious, empty or full of meaning. In the silence of this week's services, perhaps take a meta-moment to reflect on the very topic of silence.

All alone, as it shouldn't be

Tonight, we watched the film The Soloist, the inspiring and disturbing story of the friendship between a mentally ill cellist (Denzel Washington) and a newspaper columnist (Robert Downey, Jr.). The music was beautiful, of course, but these particular lines caught my ear:

"We're all alone."
"Just like it should be."

At this point in the film, the two characters are the sole attendees at a rehearsal of the LA Philharmonic. How many of us have had a similar feeling at a concert, movie, musical, or other public event? The experience would be perfect, if not for all those other people around - the cougher, the early clapper, the talker, the cell phone user, the list of complaints could be endless.

But on further reflection, I thought that the most magical moments in a concert hall are actually times when we transcend the status of individuals and become a group. I hope everyone has experienced sitting in a concert hall in total silence, savoring the final chords of a symphony, or waiting in anticipation for a Beethoven Symphony to crash into existence.

We should not be all alone, and the modern world too often allows us to nest in our homes, thereby avoiding those group experiences. The church should be part of restoring community to our neighborhoods. Those same thoughts were with me as I read about the potential, perhaps likely, destruction of a Brooklyn, New York church. (The NYTimes article at this link has some beautiful pictures.) Of course, the Cleveland area has churches of its own in disuse and disrepair. Is it partly a reflection of our great desire to be alone, rather than come together in community?

This week, Holy Week, I will spend many hours in the church, and among my prayers will be the hope that the church (meaning the universal church) will reinvigorate its role in outreach and community. Indeed, all alone is not how we should be in such a setting.

Palm Sunday music

I think of Palm Sunday as a holiday of hope and expectation. It's not quite a celebration - we'll save that for Easter - but the kids and the choir will symbolically reenact the procession, and we'll sing optimistic hymns of faith, most notably "All Glory, Laud, and Honor."

Musically, it will be an exciting day at Bethany. The Rainbow Ringers will play along on our opening hymn. As far as I know, it's the first time that they will play along with a congregational hymn, and I hope you enjoy the experiment. (Thanks in advance to Sue and the kids for all their work!) We'll also have two guest trumpet players from Baldwin Wallace, who will accompany our hymns and liturgy.

I hope that some of you will stick around to hear the postlude, as well. One of the trumpet players and I will be playing a cutting from the fourth movement of Eben's trumpet sonata, titled Golden Window. It's a modern piece that few people are familiar with, but David is an exceptional player and I think you'll enjoy the unique opportunity to hear this piece played.

Making space

I heard Krista Tippett, host of NPR's "Speaking of Faith," describe Lent not as a time of "giving up" but of "making space." My personal feelings toward the idea of giving something up for Lent have likely become clear to my readers. I don't see self-abnegation as a proper act of thanksgiving and praise of a loving God.

But I do see the wisdom of making space. The busier life gets, the more I can come to appreciate time taken to go for a run, to make music, or simply to relax and enjoy the company of friends and family. Ironically, taking a break can make us more productive. Adding another item to our weekly schedule can make the rest seem easier and better. That's why giving up an hour of life for a Lenten service can be a joy, rather than a burden. That's even why I think giving up candy to replace it with a vegetable can be a wise choice. We aren't simply giving up something we like; we are replacing it with something better for us.

There aren't many days of Lent remaining, of course, but the idea of making space in our lives for prayer, music, and church should be with us all year. Can you give up an evening for choir rehearsal? Or can you simply give up 10 minutes of sleeping in on Sunday morning for fellowship before church, and prayer during the offering? That would be the kind of giving up and making space that I can understand!

How did a week go by so quickly?

I don't suppose I can blame the way time has sped up this week entirely on Daylight Saving Time. But if you throw in our upcoming spring break and midterms, a little bit of yard work, and all the music of Lent, Holy Week, and Easter, there just hasn't been much free time left. I didn't even comment on Bach's recent birthday.

You have been hearing plenty of Bach in church lately, though, with more to come. First, David's solo this past Sunday was a great Lenten meditation during communion. The postlude was a selection titled "Sanctify Us" from Cantata 22. And tonight, the postlude will be a portion of the St. Matthew Passion, titled Wir Setzen Uns. The text is a bit ahead of the Passion narrative, but we've reached our last Wednesday Lenten service, so I think our focus appropriately shifts to the events of Holy Week.

The text of the chorale I'll be playing is translated as follows:
In tears of grief, dear Lord, we leave Thee.
Hearts cry to Thee, O Savior dear.
Lie Thou softly, softly here.

Rest Thy worn and bruised body.
At the grave, O Jesus blest,
May the sinner, worn with weeping
Comfort find in Thy dear keeping,
And the weary soul find rest.
Sleep in peace,
Sleep Thou in the Father's breast.

We've entered a season of contrasts: cold nights and sunny days, bitter rains and blooming crocus flowers, the crucifixion and the resurrection. Tonight we'll sing hymns of trust and confidence: "Restore in Us, O God," "Jesus, Refuge of the Weary," and "Now the Day is Over." The prelude will be based on Wondrous Love, contrasted with the postlude mentioned above. Our prayers and thoughts should be spurred on by this contrast and variety, as we await Easter.