Fullness Part 2: Well Rested

It's spring and baseball is in full-swing (punny, I know). Major League Baseball has been cranked up for about a month now. Teams and fans are beginning to get into a rhythm and set their lineups. One position always seems to change though- starting pitchers. Well, perhaps "change" isn't accurate, rotation is more correct terminology. MLB teams typically operate with 5 starting pitchers. This gives each pitcher at least four days of rest between each start. The hope is that with enough rest, their arms will be able to perform at a high level as often as possible for a long season- 162 games (divided by 5 = about 32 games). This, and a book by Dorothy Bass got me to thinking about the concept of rest.

"For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy." Exodus 20:11

In her book Receiving the Day, Dorothy Bass argues for much more than Sabbath. She is concerned with Christian time keeping...or what she expresses is a concern for Christians being kept by time: the next appointment, the panic until the deadline, the filled calendars, etc. But what I found most convicting was the section on Sabbath and rest. I used to be good at taking days off. In fact, I used to say (and still feel this way) that my favorite thing to do is nothing. However, I was usually only able to do this for long periods of time once a month or so.

But Sabbath is more than "doing nothing." It is intentionally breaking to remember who you are - a being made in the image of your Creator, who we believe made all that exists and then took a day of rest, knowing all things to be good. I was convicted by Bass' language of fear as the motivator for our busyness: we're afraid that things will fall apart without us, or that we will fail if we don't spend more time, or that the... The list goes on, and it reveals our flaw of thinking we are self-sufficient, independent beings. God created us to live in this creation. This creation rests, most notably at night and in the season of winter. But as I sit here at 9:55pm, the sun's been down for over 2 hours, I know that I'm about to go back to work on a final paper for the semester, and I realize I still have a lot to learn about the concept of rest and the practice of Sabbath.

The class I read the book for closed every session with evening prayer at 5pm. While I never did live it out, I still love the way one sentence of the prayer puts to words what I'm trying to say: "[God] made the day for the works of light and the night for the refreshment of our minds and our bodies." United Methodist Hymnal, page 878

Related to this failure to rest is my tendency to doze off in chapel or church during prayers or even sermons (I know, it's hard to believe that it happens to seminarians as well!) I also zone out. Bass again points to lack of rest and absence of Sabbath as things that make us easily distracted...or in my case, prone to catch up on them during worship (oops!). So what I suggest (and mostly for myself) is a practice of rest and Sabbath-taking in order to make your (again, my) worship experiences "fuller" and more attentive.

Fullness Part 1

It's a familiar scene: the Sunday service is going on. The congregation has gathered and participating in the act of worship. But then, a whimper. Followed by a cry. Heads turn. The child is gathered up after a few futile attempts to hush, and the nearest exist is found. The noise fades slowly as the door closes, and worship resumes.

"I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears." Psalm 6:6

One thing I owe to my studies in divinity school is the extra attention given to implicit messages. That which is communicated through the way we do (or don't do) in worship and other church activities. Much of this I owe to reading Elliot Eisner's chapter on "The Three Curricula all Schools Teach" in his work The Educational Imagination. Without getting into too much detail, Eisner argues that we are teaching in everything we do, the way we do them, and the things that we don't do. Eisner's argument makes me wonder about what we teach when we remove crying children from worship and what that implies.

Now, I'm not a parent, so I've never had to deal with the situation I describe above. But I fear that what we are teaching (implied) is that crying has no part in worship. Or, to use a more divinity school phrase: we no longer see lament as a part of worship. Again, I'm sure that most children crying in church are not lamenting...but I think it still sends the message that we are not to give voice to those emotions in worship and conversation with God.

I fear in many congregations we no longer feel comfortable approaching God in worship with honesty about our problems. I don't have a solution to the problem I describe: I'll admit to being extremely distracted by crying babies. But, I wonder if we might discover a fuller kind of worship if we are willing to embrace the fullness of our being in worship: joy, sadness, praise, lament, elation, sorrow... The Psalms reflect a wide variety of emotion as they speak to God. We might do well to allow ourselves and others to be less than content at times.

What are your thoughts on this?

Partaking

As another holiday break comes to a close, I find myself thankful for time spent with family and friends. I also realize that, being a full-time student, I'm going back to a life dominated by quick meals eaten alone. Now don't start pitying me...I actually like the time alone-especially in the morning. But that's not the point. So I'll move on.

"Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, ⁴⁷praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people." Acts 2: 46-47b

Holiday meals are special. They are traditional. My family usually requests the same dishes every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year. Although I doubt I coined the phrase, I found myself thinking "This tastes like Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's Eve." Holiday meals just taste better to me. It's great food that only comes around once or twice a year. But I think there's more to it than that.

I think meals are best when shared and enjoyed intentionally. This means we (I) have to resist the temptation to 1) eat fast, 2) eat on the go, or standing up, 3) eat alone if we/I want to fully experience the blessing of a meal. Meals seem to be naturally communal: talking, sharing, laughing are all part of a great meal experience. I've also read recently about the benefits of sitting and passing food rather than buffet style eating: when we pass the food it is shared and referred to as "the/our ___" rather than "my/ ___" or "mine." In order to more fully enjoy meals, we (again, I) must not see them as a fill station- a place to stop quickly, get what I need and move on, but instead linger and enjoy the blessing of communion in a meal. Also, meals must (for me) regain their status as a blessing- something to give thanks for before, during, and after the meal.

To borrow a thought from a book I recently read: when these become our mealtime practices, we celebrate each meal as partaking in The Table...that is the breaking of bread and eating "together with glad and sincere hearts."