The Riches and Power of Ritual

On my sabbatical a few years ago I visited a mega church for worship in the region.  The lack of ritual at worship struck me.  They opened with praise music which was nicely performed, but unsingable for a visitor, musically oriented as I am.  I got the idea I really wasn't intended to sing, but to be a passive listener.  There was a welcome and announcements and a time a greeting other worshipers, then a message from the preacher, which was piped into the sanctuary by video from the larger auditorium.   After which the leader in the room said, "That’s it for today.  See you next week."  A signal to go.   I left feeling empty.  There was no call to worship, no prayer invoking God, no corporate prayer of confession or personal confession, no words of assurance of God's forgiveness in Jesus, no sung response, no passing of the peace of Christ, no corporate reading of scripture.  Scripture was incorporated into the message.  And at the closing there was no charge, no benediction, no blessing.  Nothing to encourage or sustain me for the week.  Not to disparage what people who go there find in it, I give thanks for the riches of ritual I enjoy with the Pine Island congregation.  

Last week was All Saints Day.  So instead of following our regular order of worship last Sunday, we paused to remember the dead.  The last two weeks, I have addressed how the church is a place of the heart, where hearts grow, where the eyes of the heart are enlightened.  Last Sunday we dared to be such a place of the heart, dared to speak the truth of our loss, and together summoned the courage to do so.  Facing the loss and grief of loved ones is one of the hardest things we do.  Contemplating and owning our own mortality is an even harder task every human must face.  Facing death fills one with wonder, mystery and fear.  At least once a year most cultures find a way of doing so.  To do so we do strange things, painting our faces white, wear masks and dress up in costumes.  Tell scary stories, go to haunted houses.  Pastors and priests traditionally dress for worship in robes and stoles. Since worshiping with you, experimented with my dress.  I’ve tried the more casual look, shirt with an open collar, an African shirt.  Last Sunday I put on my black robe and a black stole.  Wearing priestly robes for me is like putting on body armor when touching sacred things, facing difficult things, and speaking powerful words.  The priestly role is more powerful than just what comes from me. 

We included our children for the ritual of remembrance.  It was the children’s message.  American parents and churches tend to protect children from the reality of death and funerals.  But death is a normal part of life, as is grieving loss.  So instead of the children coming forward for a special message just for them, I invited them to remain with their parents and the littlest ones to sit on their parents laps, or the lap of a trusted adult.  Maybe that's how metaphorically we all should hear about and remember death, in community, on laps, with loving arms around us holding us tight.  We lit candles for members who have died, for loved ones we grieve, for the Jewish victims shot at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, for the two black persons shot in a Kroeger Store in Louisville last week, for the victims of mass shootings in America, for black men shot and wounded in America's city streets at rates far greater than their demographic, for service men and women who have been killed and wounded while serving in uniform.   We remembered the Potawannami people who lived and died here before us.  After each group identified and remembered, we sang the refrain “Through our lives and through our prayers, your Kingdom comes.”   

Ritual is often ridiculed as stale waste of time and empty of meaning.  Ritual fills our communal lives.  At sports events, captains go the the center of the playing field or court, meet the referees, hear a summary of good sportsmanship, shake hands.  The national anthem is played/sung and for big football games, military fighter jets fly over.  There is the flipping of a coin to orient the start of the game.  In baseball there is the seventh inning stretch and singing "Take me out to the ballgame," and in the minor leagues there are goofy crowd engaging antics between innings.    

Ritual fills our communal lives, sometimes becoming empty.  But ritual acts such as we experienced on Sunday can be powerful, touching us in a deep place.  Rituals at their best speak the truth, bind us together giving us courage to face the truth, and pick us up and send us forward to live the truth with hope.   I hope our ministry and life together help you recognize your life as a gift from God, which we have here for a time.  This coming Sunday, we will dedicate our financial pledge of commitment of time and talents to support this ministry we share.  See you in church.