I guess it was the my first Friday night at The Way when it hit me
again...a memory, a thought I had shared before when I served here. Those kinda things happen frequently these
days. I see projects that were first imagined years ago come to fruition.
There's a lot of "oh yeah, I remember when we talked about
that." Kinda cool, really, to see dreams realized. Hang on...we ain't done dreamin’ yet!
Sitting in the sanctuary on a Friday night is a special thing, if
you haven't done it yet, what are you waiting for? It is among the most
wonderful of things to see people come fully aware of how broken they are and
finding food for the body and the soul in their gathering. As I said from
the pulpit a couple of weeks ago, this is one of the two services of worship
St. John's celebrates each week. It’s my aim to transplant some of the
“soul” of Friday night into the life of our Sunday morning gatherings. If you're curious
about it, "come and see."
Anyway, I'm sitting in the pew as the music begins. Although
I have played The Way three times before, it was through the eyes of one coming
in to do a thing, not as one who is pastor of the place where it's being done. It was through that lens I observed the
dissonance between a service being led, a meal being shared, and an open
invitation to the reality that, as John says, "We love ya and God loves ya
and there ain't nothing you can do about it," and the thing around which
the Church gathers to share the Holy Meal, the altar, relegated to the corner because it's
in the way.
Didn't need "The Way" to remind me that what we have is
"in the way." I've long felt that as we worship together at St.
John's. There's nothing wrong with an altar...for Cathedrals and Queen Churches it is most important.
But way back in the late '70's, a St. John's pastor spoke to the
reality that on the corner of Peabody and Bellevue, the Queen was dead.
We are heirs of that pronouncement. The ministries of love, service
and justice that exist now and those to be born in our future flow out of that
understanding.
St. John's, like most Protestant mainline churches, is an amalgam
of theological and liturgical influences in its architecture, none of which
have been taught well to the succeeding generations.
A little St. John's architectural history:
What you see now when you
look at the chancel is not what's always been. In fact, the chancel has
undergone multiple transitions across the years to adapt to the ministry
opportunities of the day. The original configuration (1907) of the church
chancel looked like this, with a center pulpit, exposed organ pipes, and yes,
the wood is much darker than what we have now.
That original configuration is consistent with “preaching houses” of the
revival era. The “preached” word was the
primary thing.
In 1953, it was renovated moving to a divided chancel, the covering
of organ pipes once exposed, and establishment of a pulpit on the east and
lectern to the west. Affixed to the south wall of the sanctuary was the
altar. What you see in the picture is closer
to what you know, the biggest difference being the position of the choir. The establishment of a permanent altar
communicated an understanding of the importance of the sacraments….one
consistent with the general liturgical leanings of The Methodist Church in
those days. That is, very penitential…”we
are not worthy to gather up the crumbs from under Thy Table.” Sacrament is a sacrifice in this modality, and
the altar is the place wherein it is re-enacted.
In 1978, gone was the red velvet hanging over the altar and commissioned
was the wall hanging that remains to this day, even as we use other artistic
expressions seasonally that cover it.
The significance of the imagery on the woven piece reflects the totality
of the understanding of God and the Holy Sacrament. It is also on this work that we see enshrined
the butterfly as the living symbol of St. John’s, her ministry, her mission,
and the power of the resurrection of a church receiving new life through
servant ministry. A symbol so significant
for us that it is our church sign on the corner.
So what do we do now? We
are a people of Table. We “celebrate”
Communion. Our liturgy bespeaks a “Great
Thanksgiving.” We are a people open and
welcoming, and we need visual signs in our worship space confirming that truth. There’s a practical sensibility to this as
well as theological. You don’t move
altars. You do move tables so that all
may come around it. The Table of welcome
needs to be present at every service, including The Way. It needs to be far more flexible for our
Sunday worship than it is.
Last week I shared an idea with the Church Council. While nothing has been done in any official
capacity, I do believe it a proper time to make this symbolic shift serving
both a functional and theological need.
Let’s commission a Table be built for our sanctuary. From the multitude of artisans we know, I
believe we could find someone to serve this purpose that is a “Memphis”
soul. Let it be beautiful in its
simplicity, yet profound in its message:
here, in this place, around this table, all are welcome – and together
we accept our call to bring around the Table with us those longing to know
home.
And let us dedicate this Table around which all may gather to the
glory of God and in the memory of the leader who set us on the footing for
servant ministry…the very thing that gives us life today…from the food pantry
to the soup kitchen, to Feast for Friends, to The Way, to the Community Garden,
to Empty Bowls, to Bruce School, to so many more that have been as well to
those yet to be…. the Rev’d Frank Lewis McRae.
What a celebration is in store!
Let’s make this happen…together.
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