Liturgy and Ministry | The need for both

I had never felt more alone or lonely than my junior year of college. I was studying in Germany at a time which predates email, social media and even cell phones. I was literally disconnected from my friends, family and all that provided me comfort.

It was also during this time the first Gulf War occurred. There were protests in my German university town, I was spat upon going to class and painted on the garbage dumpster in the courtyard of my dormitory was, “Amis go home” (Amis being short for Americans). It was unsettling some days and frightening on others. On top of the usual culture shock from living overseas, I felt shaken by the anger I felt around me.

During this time, I still went to Mass on Sundays, but as I felt more and more unsettled, I went to Mass more frequently until I was going almost daily. The liturgy put me back on solid footing. The structure, the prayers, the format were all known to me. And although it took me a while to be able to fully participate in German, I could always walk up to the alter during communion, hold out my hands and say Amen. It made me feel as if I was part of something larger than myself.  

The most basic definition of liturgy is the order of corporate worship services. It is a time to join as a community in praise to God. We learn about Christ’s teaching and how to engage with our faith to deepen our relationship with God and each other.  

As I sat in Mass this past Sunday, I realized I didn’t need liturgy. I needed ministry. In the Greek language used in the New Testament, ministry always centers on acts of service to others. It is listening to the needs of others and being the hands and feet of God to attend to those needs. Christ calls us to watch over, lift up, and strengthen those around us.

While liturgy is ritualistic in nature, Pope Francis, in an apostolic letter, Desiderio Desideravi, stated that “a celebration that does not evangelize is not authentic.”  And he has cautioned against “putting the rite before what it expresses”. My interpretation, Pope Francis is telling us to not just go through the motions or follow the rules because the institutional church says so.  We need to approach liturgy with a sense of wonder and awe. We need to make it come alive and most importantly, meet the needs of the people gathered. In other words, minister through the liturgy.

Liturgy provides the comfort of the known and is grounding. Ministry helps us navigate what is unknown and provides companionship as we walk forward into uncharted waters. We need both.

I find my scale is tipping toward needing more ministry. Not only do I need more ministry for myself, but I also need to discern how God wants me to minister to others. My fledging spiritual direction practice is one path, and I wonder in these times when hatred is becoming accepted and even normalized, how can I do the opposite and show more tenderness, love, compassion, and mercy?

I may not be able to practice ministry on a grand scale, and yet, I am not powerless. I can do so on a daily basis – with the staff, my friends, my family and to every person I encounter. Kindness, mercy, grace can have ripple effects. I need to deepen my faith and trust my simple acts of ministry will spread into the larger waters and be passed along to others.

Betrayer or Betrayed?

This holy week, I’ve been drawn Judas. My heart hurts for him. He was called by Christ, not unlike the other 11. And his role in betraying Jesus is well documented. John’s gospel also tells us that he held the money and was “skimming off the top,” to use today’s terminology. Not the best role or legacy.

But let’s take a new lens to Judas. He was weak in faith and therefore susceptible to Satan and his deceptive ways. The gospels tell us Satan had a hold on him that hopefully none of us will fully know. And so when his doubts were coupled with Satan’s manipulation, his guard was down. So what did he do?

He went to what he knew – his church and its leaders. Instead of being a mirror to Judas and counseling him, what did they do? They took advantage of his weakness for their own ends. They knew he was monetarily motivated and so with 30 pieces of silver, they bought his soul and sealed his place in biblical history.

After hearing that Jesus had been condemned to death, the gospel of Matthew tells us that Judas was .filled with remorse. Again he went to those who were his church leaders saying, “I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood.” (MT 27:4) How did those leaders respond? Did they offer help, compassion or empathy? Did they offer forgiveness? No. They responded, “what is that to us?” (MT 27:4). Judas throws the silver at them and leaves. We know what he did. We know where he went. His heart was broken beyond his ability to repair. He was so filled with grief and remorse, he went to a field with rope. He found a tree. He looped the rope around a strong branch on the tree and wrapped the rope around his neck. He then fell and hung himself. But what if…

What if Judas instead of going to the church leaders had gone to Christ. What if he begged at the foot of Christ hanging on the cross and asked for forgiveness? How would Jesus responded? Would he rejected him? Would Jesus let himself die on the cross without healing Judas’s heart? We know that wouldn’t have happened. Not unlike Jesus offered forgiveness to the criminal hung beside him, he would have given grace and forgiveness kneeling before him. He would have healed the broken heart and renewed his soul.

Imagine how different history would have been? Imagine the story Judas could have told. “Look, it was my betrayal that put Jesus on the cross. He wouldn’t have been there had I not sold out for 30 pieces of silver. And you know what, he forgave me! He stitched my broken heart back together. Man, if he can do that for me, believe he will do the same for you. Have faith. Trust him.”

When I had thought about this alternative path for Judas, I truly stopped during a walk and got teary. I said out loud, “Oh Judas. If you had only believed and trusted in the one who chose you, your story could be so different. If only…”

Today take a moment and look around. Think about how a life could be made different through forgiveness and grace that Jesus can offer – or you can offer on his behalf.

The Other Sacrifices Made

When I was a child, it was my responsibility to set up the nativity scene at Christmas. One of the figures in our set is the donkey. My dad often said to me, make sure he is near the hay. He’s earned his food.

As an adult I reflected on that wisdom from my Dad. The donkey carried a nine-month pregnant woman across the country in the heat, with limited water and likely little food. He had earned his keep. This led me to think about those other characters, others who helped but really weren’t acknowledge, and in some cases even mentioned in the gospels stories.

Today is Good Friday 2020. We are still in quarantine due to COVID-19, but I’ve been listening to the scriptures and reflecting on that moment when the crowd cries out and ask that Barabbas is freed, opening the path for the crucifixion of Christ. Tradition and scripture tell us Barabbas was a notorious prisoner, possibly part of the insurrection against Roman rule. And in the gospels of Mark and Luke, we are told he committed murder.

Knowing that Barabbas committed murder gave me pause, and I thought about the family and friends of the people Barabbas killed. They aren’t mentioned; we don’t even know who Barabbas murdered. But those people, those unmentioned in scripture or history, had to feel something about Barabbas’s release.

Having just come out of the grief of the loss of a loved one, believed that in Barabbas’s arrest there was some justice being served. Now he was on the streets again. Were they worried he would come after other members of their family? Would they lose another love? Would they start the cycle of grief and tears again?

My heart hurts for those people whose sacrifices are silent. Their stories and place in the gospel story, their critical role in the fulfillment of the glorious story of Christ’s death and resurrection shouldn’t go unnoticed. And I hope that by writing this, they are not forgotten. Their role may have been minor, but their fear, anger and feelings of injustice with the release of Barabbas was likely very real.

We are told in the beatitudes that “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (MT 5:4). History may have not noticed those who suffered because of Barabbas’s deeds, but God won’t and hasn’t. And hopefully, neither will we.

Roll Away the Stone

Today is what my choir friends and I call Roll Away the Stone Sunday, named after the song by Tom Conry. The gospel is John 11: 1-45 in which Jesus travels to Martha and Mary’s because Lazarus has died.

The first time we sang this song, we repeated the refrain many times. We were captured in the moment and it felt right, spirit led to sing those words over and over, “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.” It was as if our voices were willing the stone to move. It wasn’t forceful, it was faith-full. As we repeated the refrain again and again, out of seemingly nowhere, we hear our soloist cry out, “Lazarus, come out!” It was one of those powerful moments when chills run down your back and the hairs on your arms stand up. Even as I write this, I remember the sensation of that moment.

We haven’t been able to recreate that specific moment, but we relive it every time we hear that scripture reading and sing this piece. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”

As we are staying home to protect others and ourselves during this COVID-19 pandemic, I was reflecting on this song. “Roll away the stone.” It isn’t a huge leap to start to wonder, what stones has God rolled away in my life and allowed me to see the glory of God?

To cover them all – the stones, the pebbles or rocks – is a long winding road. Many have heard the stories, some are part of those tales. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) there is not a stone in my life that God hasn’t removed, allowing me to not only see but to deeply experience God’s glory in miraculous as well as tiny, every day ways.

Each year, I pick a theme rather than make resolutions. I have been doing this long before it was cool and trendy. My theme for 2020 is Glorious Unfolding, from the song by Steven Curtis Chapman (yes, music is a theme in my life). The song speaks to allowing God to unfold wonders in my life, just to trust in the journey. It calls me to stop doing what I am well known for doing – planning and being freakishly efficient and organized. Lately, I have found myself drifting back into that pattern, especially amid the stay at home order. I make my lists, I cross off items and continue to feel that sense of accomplishment.

Yet, despite the fear and unknown of this virus, I feel called to slow down. And, that is a blessing. I’ve been moving very fast for about the last five years. But now that I have settled into my home office and adjusted to the temporary moment of physical distancing, I am called to be still, to take in and to see the Glory of God.

I will miss singing this powerful song this weekend with my friends, my spiritual family. Yet, not singing has forced me to pause, to relive in my heart a powerful moment and remember the stones God has rolled away – not just for me, but for those around me. Now I ask God to reveal to me what I have yet to learn as I take this time to pause. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”