A Lutheran Visits a Christian Scientist Church? It was a surprise ...

Some years ago I wrote a series of posts on other churches I was visiting -- it was a blend of curiosity, and fellowship / ecumenism, and a quest for my next home-congregation that (even then) I understood was becoming necessary. I had not planned on continuing that series -- until last weekend when I was traveling. At a graduation party for my son and some of his friends, I heard a couple of the parents discussing church services in the morning. I mentioned I was interested in joining -- why should I miss Sunday celebration and worship merely because I was in a different city? After all the arrangements had been made, they mentioned: it was a Christian Scientist service. I knew nothing directly about them except by reputation, and had no idea if their reputation was fair. And so I followed through with the plans to see what there was to see. 

The worship space

The worship space was pews and piano and organ, and a space for the readers. It gave an impression that was pleasant but unremarkable. 

The readings

The readings were extensive and substituted for the sermon, lasting around the same amount of time as a typical sermon. There was an introduction that made it seem that extensive readings were the norm, an intentional practice to keep doctrinal purity as they saw it, that the readings / sermon at each congregation should be distributed from a central location, with each location reading the same readings as the sermon. The majority of the readings were taken from a denomination-specific book, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by their founder Mary Baker Eddy. In format, the readings were broken into a number of sections: each section began with a few short Biblical verses or portions of verses and continued with longer quotations from Science and Health which interpreted and expanded on various topics. For my part, I found the readings from the Bible to be so short as to lack their own context, and the readings from Science and Health to be difficult to reconcile with Scripture. 

The leadership

The leadership was mostly a pair of readers -- one man and one woman -- and most of the service consisted of listening to them read, alternately. 

The congregation

It was a small congregation -- the smallest I have ever joined for the main weekly worship service. I wasn't sure how much was due to being in a smaller city, or a smaller denomination. I could easily count on my fingers the number of people under thirty. (Those over thirty probably outnumbered them two- or three-to-one -- to give an idea of the modest size of the congregation.) The people were friendly without being pushy, and did a great job of welcoming and including me without crowding me. 

The Christian Scientist particulars

The Christian Scientist particulars do seem very particular. While they did not hand me a theology book, there were consistent ways of wording things that made me wonder if we had compatible views on the identity of Jesus, or the goodness of creation, or even the reality of creation. There was a recurring undercurrent suggesting the physical is illusory, and a clearly recurring theme that if God is spirit, and the image of God is spirit, then man is truly spirit. At several points I had to shush the little voice in my head saying, "Wow, they're Gnostics!"

The worship space, reprise

After noticing the direction in which many readings slanted during the service, I took a second look around the worship space and did not find a baptismal font, or communion rail, or altar. 

Lingering thoughts

If I were to speak about God to someone from the Church of Christ, I might start with the goodness of creation, that we taste and see that the Lord is good, and that the created world declares the glory of God. They seem to understand the love of God -- that God is good. That might be common ground on which to build. 

A Lutheran visits Methodist services (Part 2)

After my previous visit to a Methodist service, I decided that the guest preacher there might make a difference whether I had a real understanding of what was typical. So I came back for a second visit on the first week of the new minister's service. I won't repeat the notes on the sanctuary since it hadn't changed.

Liturgy/Worship and Methodist particulars

The second visit to this church gave me a clearer picture of what is normal at a Methodist service. Again, the passing of the peace began the service, and the Doxology continued in the same mid-service place as before. The minister did wear robes and a stole, so it may be that traditional vestments are still included by Methodists at times. (And again, I don't see this as being too large a matter, all things considered.)

This time -- despite it being a communion service -- there was no creed at all. Recall that in my last visit the Apostle's Creed was labeled as an "Affirmation of Faith", bypassing the acknowledgement of its place in church history and the church universal that would be accomplished with its standard title. It seems that the Methodists do not hold it important to confess one or another of the historic Christian creeds, and skipping the creed entirely seems acceptable among Methodists. Again, there was only one Bible reading, and again it was from the Old Testament. So it seems that having only one Bible reading is nothing unusual at Methodist services, and again it is nothing unusual to skip reading from the New Testament entirely. I found myself wondering how many weeks they might go between times the New Testament was read and preached. I also wondered if the minister always picked Bible passages to suit his own thoughts, or whether there was any regular "read through the Bible / preach through the Bible" expectation like the lectionary.

This time the service included communion. With communion there was time taken for confession and forgiveness -- and it was structured that way in the hymnal so that confession was part of the communion service. It seems that the Methodists consider confession and absolution to be a particular feature of a communion service, rather than a standard part of any service. The communion portion of the service was described as "service of word and table" in the bulletin, where my own church would have called the entire service "the service of word and sacrament" (referring to the whole service, not just the Lord's Supper). If that title is any indication, then Methodists do not view communion as a sacrament. I'm not sure whether Methodists have a category for "sacraments". I'm also not sure whether they were serving wine or grape juice for communion. I could see that they were using a loaf of leavened bread.

There were some things that I had not recognized as regular features during my previous visit, but a second visit showed that these were standard things. One is that the congregation applauded the choir during the service. Another was an altar call at the end of the service. (I didn't notice anyone going forward either time. While we're on the topic, the one issuing the call didn't sound as though he seriously expected anyone to come forward.)

The Prayers

This service contained a little more prayer than the previous one, though the minister still didn't present individual prayer requests during the service.

The Sermon

The sermon this week was about how Christians should step forward in faith. The sermon text was God's call to Abram. Much to my relief, the whole self-congratulation theme of the previous sermon at this church was not part of this week's sermon. The "distance from other Christians" comment in the sermon was this time a mention of Calvinists: "I'm not a Calvinist, I don't believe that God has every moment of our lives scripted." It was fairly tame as far as the tone: it wasn't done in a disparaging way. Again, the main theme was about what we do; the main assurance of God's love was a promise of his presence when we move forward in faith.

One thing in the sermon took me by surprise, which came up when the new minister asked people to define in their minds what Christianity is. He probably offered a half-dozen or more options rhetorically, and closed by saying it was all of those and so much more. But I don't think the words "grace" or "forgiveness" came up at any point during his list. (I was thinking along in my mind as he asked about how to define Christianity, and my thoughts at the moment were "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit". That is the foundation for where we start, and the present reality in which we live. And again the outreach we bring for the world and the future is "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit". At any rate that was the basic train of thought while listening to the rhetorical questions roll by.)

The Congregation

People seemed warmer this week, friendlier. I'm not sure if it's because a few people recognized me from before, or whether the congregation was in better spirits now that their new minister had arrived. Though, speaking of the new minister's first week, normally I'd expect a pastor's installation to be the matter of a special service, attended by whoever supervises pastors in the area, also attended by the pastors of the neighboring churches, and honored with a welcoming potluck. Here the minister introduced his family, himself and his credentials during the regular worship service, and I found no mention of a special service for the installation. I wasn't sure whether the congregation had any say in the selection of the minister, considering that his credentials were presented at his first service as if that might not have been known to them in advance.

Back at my home service again

The sermon was about not getting caught up in sins (self-righteousness, arrogance, harshness, etc) when we see someone else sin, following Paul's comments on correcting others with gentleness and respect, but instead how we should not become weary in doing good. The most Lutheran part of the sermon was the frank admission that sin is something that applies to us, temptation likewise, and so needs to be addressed. (I wonder whether the pastors think to themselves, "restore with gentleness and respect" about the sermons they preach when they address common temptations.) This sermon had some good tips for godly living, and about not getting caught up in the temptation to point fingers. In general there was a little too much assumption that "let us do good to all people" works out to "volunteering at the church or donating to the church". The sermon didn't have the focus I'd have expected from a Lutheran view of that passage, about Christ restoring us with gentleness and respect, how we thank him and praise him for that gentleness and respect, and how we pass along his grace to others with that same gentleness and respect. So with the almost exclusive focus on avoiding sin and doing good works (and the disappointing view of good works as equivalent to church activities), it was not a particularly Lutheran sermon, I suppose.

A Lutheran visits Methodist services (Part 1)

This summer, again, I am visiting other churches when I can. The particular Methodist church that I visited has an 8:30 service that allowed me to attend there and still make my regular service at my home church. My visit was in June, though this write-up is being posted later. I happened to visit during a time after the previous regular pastor had left but before the new one had arrived. That is to say: the church had a substitute pastor, so I don't know if this was a typical service.

The sanctuary

The worship space was reassuringly Christian, with crosses displayed and seasonal dressings on the pulpit. The sanctuary also gave some thought to beauty with its stained glass windows. The projection screens did detract from the otherwise beautiful and timeless interior, in a way.

Liturgy and worship; Methodist particulars?

My previous notes on worship services have had a separate heading for worship and for things particular to a denomination. With the guest preacher at this service, I'm not sure it would be right to assume any Methodist particulars from attending this service, so I'm grouping it all together here. (Though I'm fairly sure the sermon's reference to the brave circuit riders of the frontier days was a Methodist particular, as each denomination had their own approach to getting through the frontier days.)

The service was not one that I would recognize as the standard liturgy. The worship service began with greeting and passing the peace, so it was familiar that far. There was no confession, no assurance of God's forgiveness at the start of the service (or anywhere in the service, for that matter). The congregation confessed the Apostles' Creed, but without acknowledging it as the Apostles' Creed; it was titled "Affirmation of Faith".

There was one Scripture reading (as opposed to the three-readings-plus-a-Psalm that I'm used to) and it was drawn from the Old Testament. That is to say, it was a worship service in which the words of the gospel were not read at all. Neither was there any reading from the New Testament, where I'm accustomed to two New Testament readings. Jesus was worked into the sermon briefly though not in a major way, and Jesus was also in some of the hymns and the "Affirmation of Faith".

There was no communion; I'm not sure how often Methodists celebrate the Lord's Supper. The offering was noted as "Tithes and Offerings" as if the Old Testament command to tithe were considered to be applicable. 

In my mind, I couldn't reconcile the fact that there were liturgical colors on the pulpit with the fact that the Scripture reading showed no sign of following a liturgical reading calendar. Considering that there was a guest preacher, I left that as a question for some other day.

The hymns / songs

During the service, the plainest reassurances of God's love were in one of the earlier hymns. In general, the hymns were singable and had decent tunes. The Doxology was sung in the middle of the service: not where I would expect it, though still welcome. The closing hymn was the biggest surprise. It is a song that I strongly doubt would ever be included in a Lutheran hymnal. (I checked a couple of Lutheran hymnals and it is definitely not included in those.) It was literally the end of the service, and the closing hymn had the closing words

A Charge to Keep I Have
"Assured, if I my trust betray,
I shall for ever die."

The tune wasn't bad, but the content and the timing -- having eternal condemnation as the last thing in the song or the service --  just wouldn't be done. It's a longstanding Lutheran standard that, when condemnation is mentioned, it is not the final word. The final word is hope in Jesus and trust in God's goodness, as is typical of the majority of books of the New Testament. So it was interesting to see a hymn that closed with such words, and to see it placed so that the entire service closed with such words. It did follow the same pattern as the other differences I've seen about whether grace is considered as important to Methodists as it is to Lutherans.

The Sermon

The sermon was about acting in faith and hope for the future; the text was Joshua crossing the Jordan. The sermon was mainly about not giving up, about moving forward to a new future. The sermon was largely geared toward their current situation of being between pastors. The preacher did manage to include assurances of God's presence wherever we go, though the main point was about not giving up or being complacent with standing still and settling.

I found the sermon unusual this way -- and it may have been the guest preacher or the occasion of being between pastors: There was more ... I'd have to call it self-congratulation ... than I can recall hearing in another Christian service before. The preacher assured the congregation time and again that their church was known in the community as one that prayed. And, again, the preacher assured the congregation that their church was known in the community as "the church that cares". (I've never heard that this particular congregation has any particular reputation; my own either for that matter. So I chalked up those comments as mostly cheerleading, more about building a positive self-image or encouraging them through the transition than anything else.) I didn't know what the congregation might have gone through during the transition, or whether this was something just for the awkward in-between times.

The sermon included the sadly obligatory "distancing ourselves from the others" (disparaging others) comments that you hear in so many churches, my own included. This particular church congratulated itself on being a congregation where everyone is welcome, "unlike some churches where that wouldn't be true, where they don't accept people who aren't like them" (met with nods and murmurs from the pews). Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to ask the preacher what exactly was the subtitled translation there; the reception line after the service was quick-moving so there was no chance to ask. In liberal Lutheran churches a phrase like that would have been in reference to the debates over homosexuality and a disparagement that conservative churches would ask abstinence of a homosexual, but I'm not sure if that's the translation in those particular Methodist circles.

The prayers

The congregation prayed twice during the service, briefly. Rather than mentioning specific people and circumstances during their prayers, those were found in the prayers section of the bulletin. There were no details on what the individual prayer concerns might be. They did pray the Lord's Prayer during the service. 

The leadership

The leaders were dressed in street clothes, without a stole or robes. While the preacher didn't wear a robe, the acolyte did; I wondered why the difference. (I can't imagine the dress code matters much, I mention it more from curiosity.) The only thing that I didn't expect was that they had an official song leader for the songs during the service. A woman with a clear and easy-to-follow voice stood in the front by a mic and led the songs. All in all, there was nothing too unexpected in the leadership. I would likely get a clearer idea of their leadership if I visit again after their new minister is installed.

The congregation

The people seemed a little standoffish, though I don't know whether it was because of my having hit the earliest service, and I didn't see any coffee pots around. (That's a sure sign it wasn't a Lutheran service: no coffee pot that I could see.)

And back at my home service

I was very glad to hear my pastor skip the common reference in the sermon to how different we are from other groups (read between the lines: better). I really wasn't up for that twice in a day. Though it may have been because the sermon text was on Paul's warnings about biting and devouring each other with evil talk.

Paul's warning is really on-target for me in particular as I try a delicate task of visiting different services, and hoping to give a fair hearing to each. There is no way that a single visit to a church can do it justice, and our differences cause me to spend much of the service getting adjusted to what the current congregation is doing, rather than being able to see it for itself. I'll admit plainly that my visit to the church without any New Testament readings, a sermon that was 90+% exhortation, together with that particular closing hymn left me fighting a strongly unfavorable impression. But it was a guest preacher, I keep reminding myself. I have seen some guest preachers at my own church that were far more questionable than that. It would definitely be unfair of me to draw too many conclusions from this one service, and I'd like to visit the same church again sometime. (Which is the topic of the next post ...)

A Lutheran visits Church of Christ services

This continues my summer visits to different Christian worship services, both to help my thoughts about Christian reconciliation and also as part of a quest for a hungry soul to be fed. (This week I heard from an old friend, former member of my church. Some 10 or more years ago when our congregation's current pastor came, she left our church over some events related to her and her husband's needs at the time, and the pastor's response. She asked -- hopefully, I thought -- whether he'd left yet, and I told her no. She still doesn't really have a church home.) I have remembered where to find some good sermons on-line, and that is helping. But still, I did visit another church this week before going to my own service.


The worship space

The Church of Christ worship space was lacking absolutely anything that would identify it as specifically Christian or even religious. There was no altar, no crucifix, not even a cross. There were no religious images or even banners. There was no marking to designate we're in the season of Pentecost. (I got the feeling that the Church of Christ doesn't recognize a liturgical year. I'd be curious what they do with holy days such as Christmas, the Resurrection, and Pentecost.) The walls were utterly bare, other than three flat-screen TV's at various places, showing the same thing to people seated in different sections. Before the service, the screens  usually showed a countdown of time until the service began (5:35 ... 5:34 ... 5:33 ...) though occasionally mixed with written announcements ("Please turn off cell phones"). Despite this institutional-looking start, the people were friendly enough. Promptly when the countdown got to 0:00, a worship leader stepped up onto the stage (yes, a stage) to the podium (small and clear plastic, definitely not a pulpit). Interestingly, it was almost exactly an hour later (1:00:00, I wouldn't be surprised) that the service ended. There were signs notifying people that the service was being recorded.

The worship service

The worship service started with several praise songs, none of them familiar to me, but all so familiar to the members that they knew the tunes without consulting the hymnal or songbook. The words were put up on the monitors around the worship space, but without notes so that I had to resort to the hymnal or songbook (depending on which song) in order to sing along. There were probably seven or more songs during the service, all short and peppy, and most of them in a recognizably modern American style. (Making no comment on whether that's good or bad; just mentioning how it was.) They all had fairly singable tunes. The songs of the day were themed around imitating God, being like God, or volunteering ("Here am I, send me").

There was no place in the service where we had a Bible reading exactly, or said a creed, or prayed the Lord's prayer. The closest we came to a Bible reading was that several verses from the parable of the sheep and the goats were quoted and shown on-screen at the start of the sermon. The service consisted of welcome announcement, songs, a prayer, communion and offering, the sermon, and more singing. (They might not acknowledge the ancient liturgy, but other than leaving out a place for regular Scripture readings and prayers and the creed, the outline was close enough.)

Church of Christ particulars

I had heard that the Church of Christ forbids instrumental music. There was no sign or sound of an instrument during the service. So it surprised me that music was so much a part of the service, and was well-done. All the singing was without any accompaniment. They've apparently found ways to keep the singing on-key, and on-beat, without musical instruments. They even had a lot of people venturing harmony, and a number of songs where the men and women were singing different words, overlapping and harmonizing as they went. Overall the music was good.

I had also heard that the Church of Christ believes in some form of baptismal regeneration -- like the more ancient churches, in that respect. The closest it came to being mentioned during the service was an offer for visitors to meet and talk to someone if they wanted to know "What's all this about baptism?" (I have to admit to starting out with a bad feeling about the Church of Christ because someone I knew had a bad encounter with them that kept him away from the church. His mother was intending to become a member and intending to be baptized, but before the date of her baptism she was killed in a car accident. He was told that his mother was in hell because she hadn't yet been baptized. I'm really hoping that's not their standard teaching and was just some uninformed person making a horribly cruel and wrong statement at the worst possible moment. At any rate the man wanted nothing to do with Christianity afterwards. His mother has been gone for nearly 30 years now, and last I heard he has not yet been to a church.)

The sermon

The majority of the service consisted of this sermon of sorts. The sermon wasn't about a particular Bible reading so much, though the starting point was from Jesus' words of the Last Judgment. The teacher said that this Last Judgment was a final exam that we all wanted to pass, but that Jesus had given us in advance not only the question but also the answer, in how we treat the least of these. The rest of the talk -- which probably went on for close to half an hour -- covered the details of various ministry programs carrying out that type of help for those in need. The ushers passed out sign-up sheets for people to volunteer for one of these ministries. The ministries ranged from visiting shut-ins, to giving people rides to medical appointments, to helping people with house and yard work after an illness or hospitalization, and so on.

From my point of view much of this was admirable, that they would place so much emphasis on serving others in genuine love, and be willing to devote so much of their church's emphasis to carrying out service in the world. In part it was exasperating, that there was almost no recognition given to what Christ has done for us.

I'm sure a Lutheran would never have preached on the sheep and the goats without a plain acknowledgment that we follow Jesus imperfectly and we are forgiven; the lack of that was surprising. (From their point of view, I wonder, if they would say, "The Church of Christ would never have preached on the sheep and the goats without a plain acknowledgment that our service is expected, and without the church providing opportunities for people to serve.") Ever notice that our divisions in the church tend to result in such either-or thinking, along the fault-lines after a division?

Communion

I say that "almost" no recognition was given to what Christ has done for us; but they did have communion, and acknowledged plainly that it is more than a memorial, more than a proclamation of Christ's death and an expectation of his return, but that it also acknowledges our dependence on what Christ has done for us. (I don't remember that "forgiveness" was ever mentioned in the service; there was certainly no confession and repentance and proclamation of God's forgiveness. The closest they got to any of that was a recognition of our "dependence on what Christ has done".) As they began communion, they made a defensive-sounding announcement that there had to be some kind of leader to keep there from being chaos. The ushers passed around trays containing tiny pieces of unleavened bread (not quite as big as a sunflower seed) and little glasses of grape juice. The words of institution ("On the night in which he was betrayed, Our Lord Jesus took bread" etc) were not said at all. So "This is my body, given for you", "this is my blood, shed for you", and "for the forgiveness of sins" were not said at communion. All the same I was surprised that they had communion; I've heard that non-liturgical services don't typically have it at all. This is probably obvious: they did not sing "Christ, Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world" in the way that any liturgical church would at communion. (A rousing Lutheran chorus of "This is the feast of victory for our God!" would have been right out.)


The prayers

There was very little praying during the service, to the point where the lack of prayer surprised me. I think there was one prayer during the service, though it lasted just a moment. The Lord's prayer was not included, or any of the prayer concerns that are a standard part of a liturgical worship service. (A liturgical church like mine will not have a worship service without including the Lord's prayer as well as several other prayers.)

The leadership

The worship leaders were all men, unlike the Roman Catholic service I had attended recently. They did not wear the "robe and stole" common in Christian liturgical churches, with the stole being a recognizable variant of the Jewish tallit. The leaders were in street clothes. (I don't expect that the dress code of the leaders matters much, so long as it isn't a distraction.)

The congregation

The people were, again, friendly and full of a noticeable Christian goodwill towards each other. There was an offer, as we dismissed, for people to go meet with others who were willing to hear their story and pray with them, as needed. (That, or hear them explain their views on baptism.) But I had my regular service to get to, so I left.

Back to my own congregation

A Lutheran visits Lutheran services: The songs were not very singable compared to the a capella ones I'd heard earlier. But it sure was good to pray, and to read from Scripture, and to hear about the forgiveness of sins.

A Lutheran visits Roman Catholic services

This summer I hope to visit different Christian worship services. Part of the reason is to help my thoughts about Christian reconciliation. Part is because my pastor is not reliably Lutheran in his teachings; he does not reliably focus on Christ, and on God's love, and on God's faithfulness. He shows no passion for following Jesus, or for leading his sheep in the same. This leaves my soul hungry as often as not, even right after worship.

Why start with Rome? Honestly, it's because the 7:30am mass left me time to still be at my own church service this morning.

So here are my thoughts about the differences that I saw. I should mention from the beginning that the priest had a thick accent and struggled with English; I caught most of what he said, but not quite everything.

The sanctuary

The sanctuary was beautiful. They had paintings and stained glass and -- though I didn't get a close look -- I think also some sculpture. I know that there are Lutheran churches that do the same, but it's less consistent or (sometimes) not quite as whole-hearted. Does that matter? I think it does in this sense: a full-bodied religion -- as opposed to a reactionary splinter schismatic group -- has enough breadth and depth that it encompasses all of human culture: writing and music, art and sculpture, government, philosophy, scholarship, architecture, and so on. The mature religions have, at some point, by themselves had full and sole responsibility for running a nation or even building a civilization, usually for centuries at a time. It is a litmus test that I use in my own mind to gauge whether a group is in full engagement with God and his world, or is merely reacting to someone else. If a group does not produce any artists or scholars or musicians or leaders that are high-caliber, recognized and admired outside their own group, then I tend to suspect the group is a reactionary sect, that their thought and theology and spiritual life are lacking on a very basic level.

Liturgy and worship

The service was a recognizable liturgical service: three Scripture readings (Old Testament, Gospel, and Epistle) with a psalm in the middle; a sermon; an offering and holy communion, with prayers at various points. There were some small differences in the service from what I was used to. The doxology was split off from the proper Lord's prayer; that is to say, "the kingdom and the power and the glory" part was said separately. (This is one instance in which Rome's liturgy sticks closer to the Bible.) The Agnus Dei ("Lamb of God") canticle before communion had a line about "Prince of Peace, who takes away the sin of the world" where the liturgy I'm used to has several repetitions of the Biblical "Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world". The words of institution for communion were also altered from what is in Scripture, "This is the new and eternal covenant." I'm sure Lutherans would not argue against the new covenant being called eternal, but the change from simply reading Scripture at that point in the service was unexpected. The Nicene Creed was in a different translation than I'm used to, and (unsurprisingly) spoke of one holy catholic and apostolic church, in keeping with Rome's opinion, as best I can tell, that they themselves are the one true church. (I like those translations of the creed that speak of one holy worldwide or universal and apostolic church; as far as I can tell that's in keeping with the original meaning of the word.) They had kneelers built into the pews, so that people knelt in their pews before communion, but received communion standing up, and not at the altar. (In Lutheran churches we typically do not have kneelers in the pews, but go to the altar and kneel to receive communion.) There were few songs during the service, and when there were songs, few people sang. Those who did sing were quiet, nearly a whisper of a song. There was no choir. (I had the impression that this congregation was hesitant about music in the same way that some Protestants are hesitant about visual art.)

Roman Catholic particulars

Many of the people genuflected before entering the row to sit down. They rang a bell -- and for an extended time -- as the bread and wine were consecrated. As we left, the fellow in front of me took some water (which I would guess was holy water) on his way out the door, and seemed to make the sign of the cross with it. Making the sign of the cross during worship was more common than I'm used to. There was a mention of "Mary, Mother of God" -- which is something Lutherans acknowledge yet, in light of how easy it is to misunderstand the phrase "Mother of God" and how adoration of Mary has at times gone beyond proper boundaries, we generally find more direct ways to proclaim Christ's relation to God.

The sermon

Today's gospel reading was Jesus being rejected at Nazareth. The first sermon point was that God is in ordinary things and places that we may reject for their ordinariness or familiarity. Still, God is present in the ordinary and familiar just as surely as in the extraordinary and unfamiliar. The second sermon point was that we should imitate Jesus' courage in the face of rejection, and not bow before pressure to meet the expectations of the world. The priest closed with a joke that seemed completely unrelated to the sermon but served as an ending laugh-line. I suppose that any preacher might give in to the wish to be entertaining. The main thing a Lutheran would object to in the sermon is speaking of Christ mainly as an example of how we are to live our own lives, or an object lesson about how God uses the ordinary, rather than as himself the good news transforming our lives.

The prayers

The only prayer that took me by surprise was a petition for those who we wish were here with us and for the harm that the church has inflicted. The topic of Rome's sex scandals has already been done thoroughly, so I'll limit my comments here to saying: it's probably a good thing to pray about it, and to frankly acknowledge it in the service as the reason that some people aren't attending. There was also a part about thanking God for counting us worthy to be there or something along those lines, which is something Lutherans probably wouldn't dream of saying. If we did (which is doubtful), we would be quick to add that it was solely on account of his mercy that he shows to all the world.

The leadership

The early Protestants spoke of "the priesthood of all believers", so it made me smile with the irony that Rome has more leadership in worship from people other than the priest than my own congregation does on a typical Sunday. Someone other than the priest read the various Scripture readings, and there was mention during the announcements of a sign-up sheet to be a reader. (Many Lutheran churches still follow the ancient practice, inherited from the synagogues, of having members of the general congregation read the Scriptures during worship; mine somehow does not.) And while someone other than the pastor gives out communion at our church when the pastor is out of town, generally the pastor has a key part in distributing communion at a typical Sunday when he is in attendance. In this church, while the priest blessed the sacrament, it looked like distribution was done entirely by other people, both men and women, at various places in the sanctuary.

The congregation

The people were friendly, and the service was clearly come-as-you-are. (Which is good, considering I'd assumed it by habit, and dressed accordingly.) There was some general handshaking during the "pass the peace" portion of the service. Everyone seemed to have a general Christian goodwill towards the other people there. I wondered if they had known I'm a Lutheran, what the reaction would have been. Would the love of Christ have taken first place, or would our divisions (and centuries of its effects) have been first in their minds? That would probably depend on the person.

The Road to Tamaulipas

When I was eighteen, my friend Pam's church went on a mission trip to Mexico, to Cd. Mante in the state of Tamaulipas which borders Texas (where I live) to the south. She knew that I was Christian and we were taking an advanced Spanish class together, so she invited me to come along as a translator. I was to help teach Vacation Bible School while some of the others helped with construction and repair projects at the church.

I had been to Mexico before, but only as a tourist. My parents had made an effort that we only saw certain parts of Mexico DF and then one of the pyramids. My trip to the poor side of Tamaulipas was an eye-opener. It was my first time seeing cardboard boxes in a field used as places to sleep, my first time seeing a crippled person without any medical care whatsoever, my first time to realize that poverty in the U.S. and third-world poverty are on entirely different scales.

It was also the first time I'd seen open disobedience to the law in a church ministry: the group was taking donations of clothing into Mexico and also donations of cloth for the ladies there to make into clothing, things which the Mexican government forbids to take into the country. The church leaders had timed their border crossing to coincide with the changing of the guard to try to minimize scrutiny. I had not known any of this in advance. I could see both sides of the argument and was just glad it wasn't my job to make a decision one way or the other. (I have since become glad for ministries such as Paper Houses which work within the existing Mexican laws to provide clothing purchased in Mexico. With any luck, someone will have mentioned this possibility to that church by now.)

When we got to Cd. Mante, we saw the church building and met the people of the church. The church building had no electricity and no air conditioning. In summer in that part of Mexico, it does get hot; fortunately we were all from southern Texas and didn't have any trouble with the heat. Most of the people had no cars; they walked for miles to get to the church services. Some of them walked for an hour or more to be able to attend. Even in their poverty they kept their homes well, sweeping their dirt floors with straw brooms and making what beauty they could. The people were hospitable, kind and generous. They take hospitality and generosity far more seriously than we do, maybe because there's so much more need for it. They were strikingly gracious and polite. The culture was very alive. One of the fellows at the church, untrained but still more than capable with his guitar, had written some Christian songs and had learned many others. I still remember a couple of them (some of them were quite good), and sometimes I still sing them to myself. For someone who went there to help, I sure came home having eaten a slice of humble pie, knowing I had far more to learn from these people than I had to teach them.

I'm not quite sure what was more of a culture shock to me: the fact that we were visiting a non-tourist area of Mexico, or the fact that the people I came with were Baptists. To be sure, living in southern Texas many of my friends were Baptists, but they had their church and I had mine. My experience inside the Baptist church was eye-opening, both the Sunday worship on the north side of the border on the way home and the daily worship in the church in Cd. Mante. The choirs were large and loud. The preachers were often laity. One of the lay-preachers, probably barely twenty years old, had a message that I remember to this day: that when people mock and ridicule us for our faith, it is in exactly those times that they are aware we have something different, something that they need, that those are exactly our best opportunities to witness to the kind of difference Christ makes in our lives. There was less Bible-reading than I was used to, but the Bible-reading was directly from Bibles rather than from excerpts printed on paper. And I had never before seen -- excepting televangelists -- a church meeting where attendees were called to make a decision to accept Jesus into their hearts. For those interested, I did see two decisions for Christ announced that week. One was a kind-hearted and honest woman named Perla; I'm fairly sure she had been a Christian before the week started but her earnestness demanded of her that she rededicate her life. The other -- I would have put money on it that he was mocking them, though he did seem to be the only mocker in the crowd. The prayers were not in the litany style that I was used to, but were more freeform. The preaching was heavily heart-based, as opposed to the head-based fare I had come to expect from my then-current pastor, a retired seminary professor. It was actually the first time I had heard the "walking on water" text preached as "Peter getting out of the boat" rather than as "fixing your eyes on Jesus." The songs were different too. It was the first time I had ever sung "King of Kings and Lord of Lords," except it was "Rey de Reyes y Señor de Señores". My friend Pam and I did it as a round as a going away offering, singing it through first in Spanish then in English.

Most harrowing part of the trip: riding in an oversized van down winding, poorly maintained roads with hairpin turns along sheer dropoffs at the edges of steep hills, and every place you would dearly love to see a guardrail, instead you see a row of white crosses at the edge of the road to commemorate the people who hadn't successfully made that particular turn. Glad I wasn't driving.

Most scenic part of the trip: the sugarcane fields. Not only is cane a beautiful crop, but as an added bonus it brought back fond memories of sugarcane samples I'd had as a kid.

Most memorable part of the trip: The people. Honestly, part of my heart stayed in Mexico with all the people I met. With Miguel and his guitar, Nora and her generosity, Adiel who was willing to travel anywhere for any length of time with no spare food or clothes or money but only his Bible, Perla and her sweet earnestness, little Marisol and dozens of others whose names have since been lost to memory.

I can't say that this was some event which changed the course of my life, but it did make a few things more plain to me. The old saying "there's more than one way to do things" became less of a cliché and more of a living reality to me as I spent some time worshiping alongside Baptists. The lines dividing Christians seemed to me an unfortunate thing. And in light of the needs facing the people in Mexico, it seemed like an obstacle to Christians getting our work done.