Missing Advent - In Defense of the Church Calendar

Just before Christmas I saw a video of a hip hop dance/rap group performing during a church service. Although they were extremely talented, it really bothered me. My first thought was "That's not how you observe Advent." Apart from the major observances such as Easter and Christmas, I found very few Evangebapticostal churches that followed a church calendar. The observance of Advent is one of the major reasons I returned to a more liturgical tradition. Christmas just never seemed the same without that focus, preparation, and contemplation. I genuinely missed Advent.

Perhaps the only thing as enjoyable as pleasant experiences is the anticipation of those experiences. That is what Advent is...a season of anticipation. It is a season of quiet contemplation. It is a time where you not only reflect on the darkness, but hope for the coming of a great light. It is a time of somber preparation. When I was living in the land of Evangelicals, the Christmas season seemed to be a time of constantly singing and proclaiming that a savior has come to Earth. Every week was "Jesus is here. Jesus is here. Jesus is here." In the liturgical Lutheran tradition, each week was "Keep looking. Keep hoping. Don't give up. Your savior will come. Just hold on a little longer." until finally it becomes "God has kept His promise."

Each week for the four weeks leading up to the Christmas celebration a candle is lit as you anticipate the coming of the Savior, each with its own specific meaning.



Week 1:  The Prophecy Candle or The Candle of Hope
This candle symbolizes our belief in a God who will keep His promises.

Week 2: The Bethlehem Candle or The Candle of Preparation
This candle reminds us to prepare ourselves to receive the gift God is about to give.

Week 3: The Shepherd Candle or The Candle of Joy
This candle represents the great joy of the angels who announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds.

Week 4: The Angel Candle or The Candle of Love
This candle reminds us that God so loved the world that he sent his only son.

The 5th Candle (Christmas): The Christ Candle
The final candle obviously represents the fulfilled promise of the coming of Christ.



But overall, I think these sum up what the entire Christmas season is truly about: 
Hope, Preparation, Joy, Love, Christ.

More than just Advent, I feel the entire church calendar keeps a flow to worship that encourages honesty in our spiritual experiences. Let me try to explain what I mean.

Have you ever known that one person that always smiles and tries to say how great things are even when the strain and near twitching of the muscles in the corners of their mouth and the slight dullness in their eyes betrays them? If you've spent anytime in American Evangelical Culture, I'm willing to bet that you do. Far too many churches within that culture promote this idea of constant happiness, never being lonely, always feeling loved, not being depressed, and never feeling abandoned if you are truly following Christ. They leave very few options for those in their congregation that feel otherwise. If they accept such beliefs, the only conclusions they are left with are: a)  it is a failure of their own faith  b) they should never let on how they feel, but just keep up happy appearances until they are "right with God." or c) they obviously don't belong in the church.

Which if any of these is consistent with biblical teaching? If you said "none of the above," I would have to agree. I have this theory. (If you know me at all, you'll soon realize that my overly analytical way of thinking lends itself to the development of many theories.) What is the mood of nearly any given American Evangelical Culture Church on almost any Sunday of the year? One of constant emotional hype, whether in the form of upbeat overly sugarcoated praise songs, or slower songs that often result in tears of joy thinking of what God has done. The congregation always seems to be either waving their hands in air in exuberance or on their knees thanking God for all He's done.

Let me be absolutely clear that I don't think there is anything wrong with those types of experiences in and of themselves. What I do think is wrong, and where I feel this culture fosters a practice of dishonesty, is that these are virtually the ONLY widely accepted emotional expressions of worship. It becomes a one note song.

What the church calendar does is guide congregations through various seasons. Some are joyful, some are thankful, some are preparatory, some are somber, and some are quiet and reflective. Easter is another great example of this. Does it make a lot of sense to be singing about Jesus conquering death on Good Friday? Or would that time better be spent thinking of the distress and sorrow of his disciples at such a time and confronting the areas in our own lives where we wonder if God will actually keep His promises?

Just as life has a range of emotions an experiences, so does the practice of liturgical worship that follows the church calendar. I don't feel happy and like rejoicing all the time, but the liturgical year doesn't demand that of me. And as I read the Bible, I find many like minded souls writing of ALL their emotional experiences whether grateful, doubtful, joyful, sad, angry, or disappointed with God. So why have we accept worship that doesn't allow   encourage that same level of emotional honesty?

I think there are a lot more people than we may realize that are desperate to hear their church say "Keep looking. Keep hoping. Don't give up. Hold on just a little longer."  and to allow them to meet God not in the confines of the parameters they have set for Him, but in the midst of their raw and sometimes ugly emotions.

What is Christian Hospitality?

I have a friend whose mother married a fairly wealthy man and moved into a suburban (not so) mini mansion. The house is far more space than the two of them need. I assumed that the additional rooms would be used as guest rooms for the children and grandchildren. I was told that was a wrong assumption. Instead the rooms were converted for various uses such as office space, workout space, and a walk in closet. (Yes, an entire bedroom converted into a closet.) When family members come to town they get hotel rooms or stay elsewhere. However, she loves to throw lavish dinner parties. As a Christian, she claims that this is because she possesses the spiritual gift of hospitality.

I distinctly remember listening to my friend tell this story and thinking "I don't think that's what that means." How often are we guilty of trying to force terms to mean what we would prefer them to mean rather than confronting the reality of the sacrifice and humility they actually require of us?

On the flip side, I think of my late grandfather. By many modern measurements of Christian Culture, he would not have been viewed as a "good Christian." He was Catholic. (strike one) He didn't speak openly about faith or lead his family in prayer or Bible study. (strike two). He cussed frequently and he hated Republicans. (strike three) But after his death, there was one thing that struck me in some of the stories shared. I heard family members and friends talk about he attitude toward others. My grandparents never had a lot of money they lived in a small house, mostly built by my grandfather, in a tiny town. When I go back and visit, I'm baffled as to how they lived in such a small space with two adults and four children. But when they were reminiscing about my grandfather, they spoke of the fact that even though the house was small and the table was cramped, if someone was in need, there was always room for one more. If anyone needed a ride to church, they would figure it out. He may have had little, but he always had some to share.

Recently I've been reading about the early church (100-499). I'm struck by the core idea that Christianity is a way of life and not an adherence to a specific doctrine. The author speaks of hospitality as being the major practice of Christians at that time.

"We tend to equate hospitality with parties and social gatherings or gracious resorts and expensive restaurants. To us hospitality is an industry, not a practice, one that summons Martha Stewart to mind more quickly than Jesus Christ. But to ancient Christians hospitality was a virtue, part of the love of neighbor and fundamental to being a person of the way. While contemporary Christians tend to equate morality with sexual ethics, our ancestors defined morality as welcoming the stranger.

Unlike almost every other contested idea in early Christianity, including the nature of Christ and the doctrine of the Trinity, the unanimous witness of the ancient fathers and mothers was that hospitality was the primary Christian virtue."

(A People's History of Christianity, Diana Butler Bass)

I can't help but think of all the times in the Gospels when Jesus speaks of the importance of loving God and loving your neighbor in the same thought. It's as if the two ideas are irrevocably connected. You can't truly be achieving one without the other. (1 John 3 seems to suggest that this is indeed the case.)

So what is Christian/Biblical hospitality? Is it free gifts for visitors at our church services? Is it cookies and coffee in the lobby? Is it the art of throwing the perfect dinner party and always having your house in perfect shape for one? Or is it this idea that the love of God is deeply intertwined with the love of others? Is it found in the way we think of and treat those our society considers the "least of these"? Is it found when we hold our personal possessions loosely and put the well being of others above our own? Is it when we weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice? Do we find the true meaning of hospitality in the moment when we realize that we are all woven into the same tapestry that tells the story of the love of God?

In all my years at a Christian college, there was a lot of time spent debating theology and the idea that right thinking would lead to Christian living. Although I understand their logic, I'm beginning to question that notion. Have we spent so much time trying to think correctly that we neglect to act in the way we should? Are we more concerned with convincing others that we are right than behaving justly towards them? Have we stressed the importance of telling others about God over treating them as God would have us do so? I think of all the years I wasted worrying about having the right answers for people when I needed to learn how to love them. A lot of modern churches talk about their ties to the early church, but I sincerely hope that we see a trend of more and more churches moving back to the ancient practice of true Christian hospitality. Can you imagine  how beautiful that would be?

The Intimacy of Communion

This past weekend, I officially joined the church I've been attending. Whenever there is a new member Sunday at this church, the joining members participate in the service. This can be done in a number of ways including leading prayers, greeting people at the doors, reading scripture or personal faith statements, etc. One of the aspects of the service that I participated in was serving communion.

For those of you that didn't grow up Catholic, Lutheran, or any other denomination that uses liturgy, the way communion is served may be a little different. When I was attending Evangebapticostal churches, I noticed that the majority all served communion in the same way. The bread and wine would be passed out to everyone in their pews and the entire congregation would partake together at the pastor's prompting. I always liked the symbolism of the fact that communion was a shared experience. In all the Lutheran churches I've ever been to communion is served at the front of the church and everyone forms a line to walk up there as they are dismissed by the ushers. As each individual passes the servers they are handed a communion wafer/bread and told "The body of Christ given for you." They then either take a tiny cup of wine or dip the bread/wafer (depending on the practices of that particular church) and are told "The blood of Christ shed for you." They consume them both and return to their seats.

It had been a long time since I'd helped serve communion. I was a little nervous at first and asked more questions than were probably necessary before the service began. "Where do I pick up the bowl?...What station am I serving at?...What do I do if someone needs a gluten free wafer?...Is there anything else I need to know?...Where are the gluten free wafers again?" I could just picture myself dropping the bowl, forgetting the words, or having some other not so major incident during the process. Another aspect was concerning me that many may not think about. I would have to tell each person "The body of Christ given for you." I found myself worried that as I said that phrase more than 100 times in a row the words would ring hallow with no real meaning to me and sound empty to those who heard them. How does a pastor do that week after week? I imagined that the repetition would become mundane. It was a strange concern, I know. But I couldn't help but wonder.

The service began and before I knew it it was time for communion. I managed to pick up the bowl and make it to my station without dropping it, spilling anything, or tripping. Success. The line began to form and I soon found each congregant passing before me with his/her hands folded over one another, palms towards the sky.

"The body of Christ given for you."
"The body of Christ given for you."
"The body of Christ given for you."

One after another I repeated the phrase as I placed the small white communion wafers into their outstretched hands. I looked at each one as they approached. I've always been a people watcher. I like to see the variety of people that are gathered in a single place at any given time and wonder what circumstances caused their paths to converge at this particular time and place. One by one they passed in front of me: the cheerful elderly gentleman in his festive red and white Norwegian sweater, the somber middle aged woman, the young boy who nervously held out his hand as his mother encouraged him from behind, the older woman who grinned from ear to ear clinging to the wafer as precious treasure as she replied "Praise be to God." As I looked upon each face, suddenly the words I was repeating took on a new emphasis. "The body of Christ given for YOU." Each face appeared to me as if it were the only face Christ saw when dying on the cross. Each person that passed before was instantly recognizable as the one Jesus loves. At that moment communion wasn't just about a representation of communal salvation as I had understood it in previous churches. It wasn't just a corporate moment where we proclaim "Christ died for us."  It was a deeply personal and intimate moment. A moment where each person walks to the front of the sanctuary in faith and takes hold of a little piece of Christ and says "This one. This was done for me." A moment where each person claims the promises and hope of Christ as their own. "The body of Christ given for you."