January 6th 2023

 George Herbert's poetry is lean and muscular, terse even. The sentence order is often inverted and the "thees, thous, and O's" separate me from his persona, so formal. Intense, reverant, heady, truthfilled, distant.

Francis Chan is another thing. Too presumptious in asserting that he understands his reader. I'm not sure he does. I'm sure he doesn't understand parts of me and my struggle with the Church.  Some of his assertions do resonate with me: his observation that I have become resigned to the current consumer mentality of church goers--true. 

I come with an oppositive perspective---want to belong to a Christian community to participate, belong, serve alongside others who are seeking God on earth, visible the invisible through our words, hands, hearts. 

Sitting in a sanctuary has never been my favorite.  Each service feels packed with mostly shallow connections between church members, the "club" mentality. In the "low church" environments I've known for almost three decades now, the preacher/speaker is the main event, the center point of the service.  His, and it's always been a "he" observations on the Word of God feel more about him trying to pull something out of the congregation. The better ones admit flaws and show a bit of his own struggle. But now am I people watching or worshipping? I'm not sure.

The Catholic services I attended for the first fifteen years of my life are a different thing altogether. The robes, hats, scarves, candles, pews, statues, and holy waters separate me instead of bringing me closer. I am other, separate, trying to draw near.  

I watched an Episcopal service last night, trying to enter in, seeing if I missed something in all of those years of putting in time at Catholic service. Here are my thoughts and questions:

Do I need to dress up to draw near to God? To worship Him? Is low church too casual? From everything I read about Jesus, I would conclude he'd say it's not relevant.  He dismissed handwashing and so many of the rites of the Pharisees.  High church feels like a resurrection of these things when Jesus said to let them go.

Why are there so many old people in high churches? Their congregations are typically half empty at least and 2/3rds of those in the pews are over 60 I'd say.  Where are the middle-aged? The youthful?  I see some children and teens coming and going through nursery or as helpers in the service. Are their parents involved? Earnest? Or are they going through motions out of duty or habit?

Why so much organ? What is the purpose of the book of common prayer? 

Observations:

From a 21st century perspective, it's laborious and creates a "people watching" event to have everyone come and kneel for communion.  If I did this every week, would it become tedious and distracting? If so, would this be a reflection of the state of my heart? Do the priests and highly involved members grow to love communion.

Why do so many of the clergy recite the common creeds and responses in a "priest voice" that again separates me from them. Their tone feels detached, disembodied. Repeating these words with everyone at a particular cadance, it's almost impossible for me to enter into them.  They fly away from me as they are spoken.  I  long to go back and ponder them if that's the point.  If the hope is not to think through them, then why are we doing this?  All of what Jesus said points away from rote recitation and relationship.

Thinking back to George Herbert's "Nature," I think the condition of my heart is similar but not similar to his own.  He describes his heart as rugged, rebellious, like a stone, and sapless. He feels that his soul could even bubble up and dissolve when exposed.  His struggle and plea to God to remake it or create a new one entirely resonates with me.  I hear King David's voice implore "Create in me a clean heart, renew a steadfast spirit in me."

It's comforting to be in good company. George Herbert and King David both sought to know God and be known by Him.

I would not say that my heart is firstmost rebellious though or a stone.  Instead, it feels weary, messy, hurt.  I want to protect my heart from "Christians" and clergy of all kinds who seem enveloped in empty motions or self-interest. I want none of that. 

Then I feel guilty for judging other hearts--clearly not my business according to the Jesus. Although David spoke often of his enemies, I don't want to put those in the sanctuary in that camp.  I'd rather avoid these people who seem to all have their own struggles with God. They are a discouragement to me because I see either emptiness, works, or them judging me back. Ugh. My instinct is to disengage so as to not become part of that problem at least.

But then, doesn't that leave me somewhat like the high clergy, semi-disembodied at times in voice, separate, distinct, definitely not feeling like part of a vibrant community or even functional one to lower the bar.