Worship: American “High Places”

A few months ago, I nearly posted a blog entitled, “Worship and Amusement Parks.” You can probably guess the contents. The essence of the blog pertained to church worship, which ought to be aimed at affirming God as God; that same worship, however, frequently devolves into entertainment for the congregation and follows the capricious tastes of that particular church’s target audience. I never posted the blog, and in fact I forgot that I wrote it until recently.  

Last week in a Reformed Worship class our professor said, “When the congregation becomes an audience, the worship has become idolatrous.” His accusation was twofold. First, such worship is idolatrous because the worship is aimed at entertaining the congregation instead of being aimed at affirming God as God. Second, such worship is idolatrous because the congregation ceases to participate in affirming God as God. His simple statement shakes the very foundations of many American churches’ worship, though like most earthquakes in California it shall go largely unnoticed.

Entertainment is a common flavor in American “Christian” worship, and it is poisonous.

References to “high places” are not uncommon in the Old Testament; they were places of worship. Some folks today may suppose that these high places were places of idolatry. Perhaps, in many cases they were, and it is likely that many high places were used for worship of local deities. It was also not uncommon, however, for worshippers of the Lord to worship the Lord at “high places.” In either case, high places were places for worship. In some instances, the Israelites were instructed to destroy the high places because they were being used to worship local deities instead of the Most High God.

In America, we too have built many “high places.” Perhaps similar to the high places in the ancient world, our high places are indeed places used to worship local deities instead of the Most High God. 

The Lame

Some moments in the course of an ordinary worship service at church are too special to pass up. Recently, several ladies became members of the church.  They were asked to go to the front and answer a few basic questions in front of the rest of the congregation. Both of the ladies are older, and one of the ladies has particular trouble with one of her knees. She says that it usually takes her a few moments to get it going again. As she sought to return to her seat, an elder of the church who is also older assisted her, and he made an unassuming comment, which probably most of the congregation could hear, “It’s the lame helping the lame.” It was true, and Esther and I chuckled to ourselves. A few days later, we reflected on this, and Esther made the remark that it’s similar to Christian service in general: it’s the lame helping the lame. It’s also been put, “It’s one beggar telling another where to find bread” (my paraphrase). It probably wouldn’t hurt for Christians of all flavors and persuasions to remember this. Where is there room for arrogance? It’s the lame helping the lame.

In a similar vein: “No pastor rises much higher than being a butler.” – William H. Willimon.

Sticky Relationships

Lifelong relationships have a glue that is mysterious to us in America (“America” may be a generalization, but it is a helpful generalization denoting American pop culture). When we see couples who have been married sixty years, we stand in awe and view them as otherworldly creatures. When we see couples who have been married forty years, we do much the same thing. When we see couples who have been married twenty-five years, we’re impressed, and when we see couples who have been married five years, we may wonder how much longer it will last. Lifelong marriages are growing increasingly foreign to American culture. But it doesn’t end there. In America friendships are similar, for the self usurps the priority of the relationship.

Commitment is not an American value. We are far too sophisticated for such things. Short-term relationships are much more convenient and entertaining for the self – entertainment after all is a core American value (Cf. Either/Or vol. 1, “Rotation of Crops”). We enjoy the use of prenuptial agreements. When the going gets tough, we opt out. There is no reason to stay in a difficult relationship, for “it is much more important that I be true to myself than true to any relationship.” Not surprisingly, we have probably all heard some version of this statement from Hollywood celebrities. It seems that we in America have forgone the glue for relationships and have opted for a whimsical game of pin the tail on the donkey with as many turns as we so desire. 

This debacle with commitment isn’t foreign to the church. I’ve heard far too many pastors lament the high numbers of divorce, but church bodies seem to splinter as much as marriages do. Churches will have a difficult time avoiding hypocrisy when it comes to talking about commitment. 

It seems then that we don’t know the first thing about covenant, albeit the church ought to know all about it.

Is “covenant” just a word we Reformed desire to tack on to our theological emphases in order to baptize them as truly Reformed?

This rambling blog is in some ways a convergence of a lot of things that have been on my mind as of late. In early church history class, our professor has emphasized the centrality of the early church’s yearning for unity, often at great cost. In Pentateuch class, I have encountered a refreshed understanding of covenant, i.e. God’s incorrigible loyalty to Israel. In some recent stories, I have felt the hurt and anguish that commitment in relationships sometimes incurs. And in my own denomination, I have watched as people have opted out of the denomination for one reason or another.

I am not saying that separation is never an appropriate course of action. Sometimes it is – OT teachings on the subject seem to presuppose that relationships break down. But it seems that we in America have begun using various types of separation as devices of convenience that have the self as the sole standard. Relationships are hard, and making a relationship sticky seems in many ways inscrutable. I basically don’t know what I am talking about, considering I am only twenty-four and have been married only a few years. But my naïveté on the matter doesn’t change our need to recover the value of commitment and a robust notion of covenant relationship that necessarily excludes prenuptial agreements and easy ways out.   

Korean Drama and Jesus

This title makes me chuckle. Last night Esther and I finished watching a Korean love story. First of all I should admit, I was slow in being drawn into the story. I missed most of the first few episodes because it seemed terribly uninteresting. However, somewhere along the line, I found myself transfixed and unequivocally invested in the story.

I would very much like to recap the entire story here. However, that would take a series of blogs, and in that case you might as well just watch the show. Let me suffice it to say: two friends, a young girl and a boy grow up together in meager circumstances in rural Korea. She needs heart surgery, if she has any chance of living. The boy’s father is a scoundrel and steals the money for her surgery. The mother of the girl then searches for the boy’s father in Seoul that she might recover the money for her daughter’s surgery. In the process, the mother is hit by a car and dies. To make matters worse, the boy’s father abandons him. The young boy cares dearly for the young girl, but he doesn’t know what to do because they are penniless. He attempts to steal a lady’s purse, but he is immediately caught. As it turns out, he looks strikingly similar to a wealthy couple’s recently deceased son. The wife is suicidal after losing her son, so the husband tells the young boy that he will pay for the young girl’s surgery if he, the young boy, agrees to become their son. The young boy agrees, but they take him away before he is able to find out if the surgery was a success. They tell him the young girl died during the surgery. However, fifteen years later, he discovers that she didn’t die at all. The story continues with a feeble seed of hope.

I do not want to diminish the magnitude of laying down one’s life for another – “no one demonstrates greater love than this.” Dickens captures this notion well in A Tale of Two Cities. In fact, I imagine that there are many stories that have utilized the notion of dying for the sake of another. However, I think there is something to be said about living a whole life of sacrifice, and I do not mean merely being subservient in rhetoric and disposition. I mean trading in one’s own life and identity that another might live, like the young boy trading in all that he was that the young girl might have a chance at life. For me this was the most striking aspect of the story: that the young boy would give his whole life over to strangers that the young girl might have some hope of life.

Before I go a step further, let it be said that I do not go about baptizing movies and TV shows, and I do not like pretending that this and that movie have biblical analogs (many people have done that with The Lord of the Rings, which to my understanding is in direct conflict with Tolkien).

That said, after finishing the show last night, I found myself naturally wandering into the land of the Gospels. The Son came and dwelt among us as Jesus of Nazareth. I am fully aware of the many Christological heresies that would ensnare me, if I were to draw direct parallels between the young boy in the Korean drama and Jesus. I have no intention of attempting to draw consistent parallels between the Gospels and the Korean drama as a whole. But in a sense, the Son sacrificially traded in his identity that humanity might be drawn into life, perhaps similar to the young boy allowing himself to be essentially kidnapped that the young girl might have the life-saving surgery. When we think of the Son’s sacrifice, we often think of Jesus’ death, but I think we would do well to take heed of Jesus’ earthly life as a whole that we might then be drawn into the Son’s overwhelming and rather incomprehensible life-long sacrifice.

I wonder if this might also shed light on Christian life.

Suffering and the Presence of God

I remember when the phone range and my mom answered it. It was the doctor. There was silence. She hung up and walked into the living room. I remember standing, waiting for an explanation. She told us that she had been diagnosed with cancer. It felt like the world had imploded, but strangely it hadn’t. It felt like life had ended, but strangely we woke up the next morning the same as before. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I felt like my world had come crashing down, perhaps analogous to what many people felt on 9/11. For many long and excruciating weeks, my mom endured chemotherapy. I remember sometimes going with her to treatments and sitting with her on the bed. I didn’t have much to say, and there wasn’t much I could do. Most of the time, I just sat there with her.

I shall not build a theodicy. That is for someone else to do. But I will say that if a theodicy begins and ends “on paper,” then it isn’t a theodicy at all. Formulas, theorems, and syllogisms do no service for a mother who loses her daughter or for a son who loses his father or for a wife who loses her husband.

In The Sickness Unto Death, Kierkegaard sheds light on what may be a potentially redeeming quality of suffering. He says, “When life begins to quake, then it is immediately apparent that despair was what was lying beneath” (Penguin Classic, 74-75). It seems then that tragedy can potentially serve as a trigger to realize one’s despair and one’s need for deliverance. However, these words would seem cold and insensitive to anyone who is enduring tragedy and suffering.

Years later, my mom said that during those long weeks and months of cancer and chemotherapy she experienced a closer presence of God than she had ever before. She said, “I felt sorry for everyone else who had to be bustling about.” God was present with her in the midst of her cancer.

When it comes to dwelling in the presence of God, lying in bed with cancer is rather different than vogues in Christian circles that blur the boundaries of entertainment and the holy. I’m not suggesting we adopt a sort of Christian asceticism. But perhaps when it comes to dwelling in the presence of God, we are a bit off kilter and even upside down. Perhaps, we have forgotten to take off our shoes and childish desires. Instead, we have “satisfied” ourselves with sugarcoated experiences. It seems that we often associate God’s presence with health and surplus, and we play hot potato with suffering. It’s little surprise then that we in America don’t know what to do or say about the presence of God in the midst of suffering. But the testimonies of many around the world, including my mom, ought to teach us that God is present with those who are suffering, and perhaps they recognize God’s presence better than we who are “bustling about.”

Seminary is a Cemetery

“Did I just see you guys at the café?” A generic looking Caucasian man said to me as I stood in line at a restaurant with Esther.

“Maybe so…we were just there,” I trailed off and turned my attention to the menu hoping to avoid a conversation.

He began to aim words in my direction again…

…aimless chatter…

“So what are you doing in Pasadena?”

“Going to seminary,” I said. I did not want to disclose the name of the seminary, lest I be obliged to defend myself.

“Cemetery?” His inflection seemed to indicate confusion.

“Seminary,” I corrected.

“Yeah, I heard you. I know exactly what that is.” His all-knowing pretentious tone spoke volumes.

I felt a combination of amusement and annoyance. I looked at him with what I hoped would be an unassuming smile, though I don’t know precisely how I came across. “Oh, ok.”

“I know all about seminary…” His voice was loud and seemed to permeate all the corners of the room.

…the conversation continued for a minute or two, and he concluded by wishing me good luck, which I thought just added to the oddity of the peculiar conversation.

I will not waste breath defending a theological education because I will likely be either “preaching to the choir” or pouring words onto deaf ears. However, I must say that it struck me as rather odd that a complete stranger would say something like that to me. After some informal research, which involved nothing more than turning to Esther and asking who in the world that was who spoke such tactless words to me, I learned that he was involved at a local church (I will not disclose which denomination or “nondenomination”). And I thought to myself, “We’re so bored and have lost any remnant of direction that we must fight amongst ourselves.”

Death and Love

I have not felt the urge to write a blog for quite some time, so I have decided simply to mention a few of the books I have been reading recently each accompanied with a brief quotation.

The Aeneid by Virgil. "Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?” (110, Penguin Classics).

The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. "Love stands opposed to death – it alone, and not reason, is stronger than death” (487, Vintage).

The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats.

"Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?

For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,

Mournful that no new wonder may betide

Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam

And Usna’s children died”

(“The Rose of the World”, Scribner)

The Complete Poems and Plays, T.S. Eliot.

"Unreal City,

Under the brown fog of winter dawn,

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many.

I had not thought death had undone so many.”

(“The Waste Land,” I. The Burial of the Dead; faber and faber)

The Sacred and the Profane by Mircea Eliade. "Religious man can live only in a sacred world, because it is only in such a world that he participates in being, that he has a real existence. This religious need expresses an unquenchable ontological thirst. Religious man thirsts for being. His terror of the chaos that surrounds his inhabited world corresponds to his terror of nothingness” (64, Harcourt).

The Rise of Christianity by W.H.C. Frend. "Christianity arose from the life, preaching, and death of Jesus of Nazareth” (12, Fortress). This opening statement of the first chapter illustrates this book’s rather peculiar underplaying of the importance of Jesus’ resurrection. Accordingly, I suggest this book be read in conjunction with The Resurrection of the Son of God, which expounds upon the significance that Jesus’ resurrection had for the early Christians.

I did not realize until after I compiled these brief quotations that they all involve death. I had not planned that; I did not plan to be so gloomy. However, I think it is important not to ignore death. I think it is important to realize that death is the fate of us all and that with Christ death loses its sting.