The Emmaus Project

It has almost been five months since the very inspiring event of The Emmaus Project. We hear encouraging reports of those who are attempting to do the business of presbytery differently so that meetings become more creative, inspiring and encouraging to one another and their congregations.

Your continued ongoing reflections and participation will help drive the PCC forward in many different ways as we think not merely ‘outside the box, but beyond the box’ to use an Easum phrase.
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Marty Molengraaf’s recent posting on contemplative prayer and healing reminded me of a book referred by a friend on prayer. Seven Sacred Pauses by Macrina Wiederkehr offers readers encouragement to establish a new rhythm in life – that of intentional prayer at specific times of the day. The “Liturgy of the Hours” or the “Divine Office” has been a Catholic tradition going back to the earliest Christian, especially monastic, practices. It follows the Jewish tradition of praying seven times a day. Psalm 119:62 and 164 are examples:

⁶² At midnight I rise to praise you, because of your righteous ordinances.

and

¹⁶⁴ Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous ordinances.

Seven Sacred Pauses suggests that we step out of our preoccupations of the moment at specific times:

1. the night watch (middle of the night);
2. the awakening hour (dawn, or whenever we open our eyes in the morning);
3. the blessing hour (mid morning);
4. the hour of illumination (noon);
5. the wisdom hour (late afternoon);
6. the twilight hour (dusk or early evening); and
7. the great silence (bed time).

These are “pauses” in the rhythms of life and are meant, I think, to blend into our individual daily activities, not disrupt them.

Wiederkehr offers a specific theme and scripture, poetry and reflections for each of these “sacred pauses” and I found them to be helpful, at least for the first go-around. However, I think the greater benefit of her book is the  encouragement to establish a new rhythm in our lives – a rhythm of prayer. We live busy lives and it may seem impossible to break off important activities at work or at home or in the grocery store or wherever. However, the emphasis is on regular contact with God through prayer as we live out each day, and to maintain that rhythm in the form of “pauses” from the preoccupations of the moment. I am uncomfortable with setting an alarm to rise in the middle of the night for prayer, but there are nights when I awaken and cannot get back to sleep immediately. These are times that I now accept, if not cherish; being wakeful is not a worry but an opportunity to open myself to God’s presence. When I awaken in the morning, I take time to thank God for another new, unwritten day that lies before me, and I ask for God’s help in living out that day as God would have me do so. The other offices of the day call me to evaluate where and how (or not) I am in being God’s person at that moment. During the “great silence” as I climb into bed and look back on the day completed, I offer my joys and my regrets, try to release all of the burdens, and express gratitude for everything.

Forming the habit of regular, intentional communication with God helps deepen that passionate spirituality that we talked about at the Emmaus conference. I have found that reminding myself to take time for prayer – not long in duration but regular in participation – has helped me to put into perspective the activities of the moment. Sacred pauses are helpful at several levels. Jürgen Moltmann said that “The mysticism of everyday life is the deepest mysticism of all.” Making “sacred pauses” part of our everyday life will help us draw closer to God on an ongoing basis.

I would be interested in hearing of others’ experiences with this form of regular prayer.

At the Emmaus event, the team from Brampton decided that there was one definite action we would take after we returned home: we would get together again. We would make a point of talking and eating and worshiping together at a special time and in the spirit of Emmaus.  We would continue the important conversation we had begun. And, since we were so excited about Emmaus, we would each invite a friend from the presbytery to come with us.  We would seek to be the body of Christ together and in a new way.

Since then we have met about once a month in the home of an elder or a minister. People bring salad or dessert, and maybe a bottle of wine. We order pizza. Sean brings his guitar and Wes usually chooses a scripture passage. We talk. Someone prays. The atmosphere is very casual and relaxed and quite unlike most of the presbytery meetings where we usually see one another.

I hosted the event in August. I made sure that the bathroom was clean and the toys were picked up off the floor. I set up a few extra chairs on the back deck and got out paper plates and wine glasses. There wasn’t much preparation involved, but I confess that I was nervous. It occurred to me that many of the people coming had never been to my home before and I suddenly felt very vulnerable: they would see my home, meet my children, look at my garden. I was not accustomed to sharing this much of myself with my fellow presbyters.

Many good things are happening as a result of Brampton’s Emmaus gatherings, but to me the most significant is the fact that through those evenings together, we are becoming more human to one another. We are forming friendships and sharing our lives in ways that we never have before. Instead of meeting in a sanctuary where we all look at the back of someone else’s head and directing our comments only to the moderator, we are sitting in lawn chairs and asking about one another’s summer vacation or bathroom renovation. After only a few gatherings, I know far more about my colleagues in ministry now, and they know far more about me.

This can only help us to be the body of Christ more faithfully, especially when we experience conflict or tension. When we must make difficult decisions as a court of the church, there may be more patience and compassion among us. When there is a disagreement, we may be less likely to call someone’s motives into question. I expect that there will be more grace among us, too, and that we will share one another’s joy with more enthusiasm.

Not everyone from the presbytery has come to our Emmaus evenings yet, but I am not worried. The people who do come have such a great time together that the word is sure to get out. God has begun a new thing in Brampton and I am content to wait and watch for the good things that are sure to come.

As I indicated earlier [on Facebook], I have been re-introducing spiritual practices in my life since the Emmaus event and I have been trying to take this very seriously. In particular I have explored contemplative prayer and healing. Both of these have always been in the background of my mind, somewhere in the unsettled recesses of my consciousness. Contemplation has always been part of my life, but often contemplation has resulted in a frustration with the focus of exclusion in our creeds and confessions.

I grew up in a church that was very narrow and parochial and so contemplation often resulted in angst because of the disagreements in theology. Over the summer, contemplation has grown from (to use Harvey Cox’ words) belief about to experience of God and of Christ. It has been liberating and exciting but also difficult. Contemplation is a discipline and like other disciplines it takes practice. Sometimes is goes well, other times it is a real struggle. I am reminded often of the video we watched at Emmaus about the potter and his spinning wheel – of how only a practiced hand can create a masterpiece – and how even a practiced hand sometimes makes mistakes. When I remember this video, it fills me with hope and encourages me to continue to discipline myself and be disciplined by God.

With respect to healing, I offer the following written by Gary Smith a former student chaplain. I have found it very useful as I try to introduce a ministry of healing into my life:

“In that hospital, we the student chaplains were buying into the medical model of being cured: cut out the cancer, do the heart bypass, set the broken bone, prescribe the medication for pain and for killing the virus. If we could not do that, what good were we? Here is what I have learned, what I knew all along, but did not see, what you must know in your own lives, that to be cured is one thing, to be healed is another. ..To be cured is to get rid of one particular ailment. To be healed is to be at peace with our whole self and the world around us. Someone can be cured yet not be fully healed. On the other hand, someone can be dying on their death bed and at the same time be healed….be at peace with their neighbor, their world, their God, and themselves.”

Often when I am on vacation, I find that I have enough time and distance to mull over how things are going in my home congregation. Without the day to day pastoral demands or weekly worship preparation, it is easier to have a big-picture view. It is a great time  to do a bit of leisurely thinking, dreaming, imagining. This summer, I have been mulling over some of my Emmaus experiences.  

One of the clearest messages from the Emmaus Project gathering in April was that many of us long for fresh and engaging experiences of Christ. A recent article on worship from the Alban Institute picks up on this very same hunger, and the church’s struggle to address it. Here is an excerpt:       

Many mainline churches quit asking long ago whether our worship leads people to an encounter with Christ and the Holy Spirit. Think about why we do what we do in worship. Do we worship the way we do because it is how we have always done it? Do we worship the way we do because it is what we are best at? Do we worship the way we do because it makes certain members of the church happy? These reasons reside at the center of what has caused so many people to walk away from the church. Many people have wanted a tangible, transforming encounter with God but have never found it in worship, because worship has been focused on everything but that transforming encounter. To foster an encounter with God means designing worship that is deliberately focused on making a spiritual and psychological impact on people. If people are to experience God in worship, it needs to resonate with where they are psychologically and spiritually. If we don’t offer people a venue through which they can access the spiritual, they will gladly find some other venue or ignore their spiritual yearnings and substitute the pursuits and pleasures of the world…

I hope you will read the whole article here:

The Alban Institute – 2010-07-12 Why Do We Worship the Way We Have Always Worshiped When People Keep Changing?.

Does your presbytery worship together in ways that connect you with the gospel in deep and meaningful ways? Has your congregation sought to make changes that encourage the transformation this article hopes for? What do you long for in worship and where do you find it?

Perhaps this summer while you’re out in a canoe or sipping a glass of wine on the back deck you’ll find a few unhurried moments to consider it. Enjoy your vacation!

Some of you may have read this article by Stephen Farris, called Pilgrims, Roosters, Sore Feet and Healing Spirit: A Conversation with Paul Myers, in the current issue of the record. If you haven’t, you might be interested.

http://www.presbyterianrecord.ca/2010/06/01/pilgrims-roosters-sore-feet-and-healing-spirit/

According to Farris, Myers’ book, “names our near fanatical attention to getting the exact wording of proposed changes to our rules of process just right, while congregations die around us….”.  I was disappointed, however, that although Farris alludes to some of the themes I hear talked about in so many Presbyterian circles today (dying churches, misplaced veneration, whether we will greet a new reformation) he refuses to engage them. I would have loved to hear more. Perhaps it is simply a discussion for another forum.

Some of you may not know that one of the companions we invited to join us at the Emmaus event was Brian McLaren. He is a well known author (A New Kind of Christanity; Everything Must Change), as well as a speaker and musician. Unfortunately despite his interest, Brian was unable to join us due to scheduling conflicts. I saw a video of him this week, however, and am sorry that he couldn’t be there. Perhaps if there is ever another event, he will be able to come and share the journey with us…

The video that I watched was his 2010 commencement address at the Virginia Theological Seminary on May 20th. With roots in the Episcopal church, and as the recipient of a degree that day, Brian spoke with warmth and wisdom. He addressed the fresh graduates with a beautiful sense of hopefulness, and urged them to cultivate friendship both within and beyond themselves. In it there is much that is relevant to those of us on the Emmaus journey, from his comments on ‘nibbling ducks’ to his advice that says, “You’ve got to smoke what you sell”! 

Watch it here: Brian McLaren VTS 2010

I hope you take the time to listen. And I would love to hear your response to what he has to say. Was there anything in there that rang true for you as it did for me? Are there pearls of wisdom for us, as leaders in the church, to hear? Would you want him to come and offer that same advice to your colleagues in presbytery?

In Ontario, the weather has been hot for the last few days, and especially hot when you consider that it’s only May. In the Toronto Star this morning, an article about the weather caught my eye because the headline read, “Beat this heat? We’d rather complain”. http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/article/814469–beat-this-heat-we-d-rather-complain

Canadians love to complain about the weather. Presbyterians love to complain about presbytery. At least, that’s how it seems to me. We say things to our congregation like “Ugh. Presbytery tonight” (insert eyeroll here). Or we create a Facebook status that says, “Off to presbytery. Wish me luck.” Some presbyters complain and don’t go that often; some presbyters go and complain the whole time. Either way, most of us are well-rehearsed grumblers.

If we hope that presbytery will be transformed into a lively, engaging and effective community, we need to sing a new song. It will take some concerted effort, to be sure.  I have been startled at how I fall into that same old rut without even thinking! I am trying to be more intentional about what I say (and what expression I wear when I say it).  I am trying to remember what will be great about presbytery, like seeing my friends or talking about the mission of the church.

I wonder what you hear when you listen to people talk about presbytery in your part of the country. What do you hear coming out of your own mouth? If the old song isn’t all it could be, perhaps it’s time to try a new one. We can sing it together.

At the Emmaus gathering, I sat next to Bill Easum at lunch. I asked him if he thought that effective ministry always made a congregation grow, since every example he gave in his talks included descriptions like, “that church qualdruplied in size”or “they grew to be over a thousand strong”. After a long conversation he said that no, not every thriving church would or needed to grow into a giant congregation. “Some churches are strong and stable without much numnerical growth” he said. 

And yet, numbers are the first place we start to assess struggling congregations. When the worshipers have dwindled and membership has declined, presbyteries are often called on to assess its ‘viability’. In my presbytery, that might include a program like Natural Church Development. Or, as was the case with a report last week, it might involve a series of indicators tied to money and worship attendance. There does not seem to be any national standard or common practice. 

Michael Kooiman from the United Church of Canada wrote a blog postcalled “A New Measure of Viability” suggesting a very different way of deciding whether a congregation should continue in its current form. They include:  

Environmental Footprint: How much gas do you burn? Is your building insulated? Have you upgraded windows or doors? Are you heating the neighbourhood or operating as a good steward of the environment? 

Social Capital: How much social capital does your congregation generate? Are you feeding the hungry in your area, are you significant contributors to local causes? Do you have actual congregational volunteers actively engaged in bettering the community? 

Rental Decisions: Is your congregation engaged in cost recovery through renting space? Who do you choose to rent to, and what criteria have you set? Related to the above, are you strengthening the community or selling your soul? 

Congregational Vitality: This is the most subjective measure, but an important one, nonetheless. Does your congregation reflect the neighbourhood? Do you have enough volunteers to manage the administration of your congregation? Do you offer programs that enhance the discipleship of your members? Are your people happy? 

Articulate Christian identity: Do your members share a common vision of the Christian life (at least a common continuum of belief)? Do they have the ability to articulate their faith, and have they found ways to share their faith with those within the congregation as well as those outside it? Would renters/neighbours identify the congregation as a community of faith? How is the mission of Jesus Christ alive in this congregation? 

You can read the whole post here: www.emergingspirit.ca/a_new_measure_of_viability 

These measures appeal to me becuase they look at more than simply financial reports, but they do present challenges in their application. Building rentals, for example, are quite common and may represent good stewardship–but who decides what qualifies as ‘selling your soul’? And a question like, “Are your people happy” is a complex and subjective one that depends on who is asking and in what forum.

I think that our denomination would be wise to spend some significant time and prayer considering this, given the decline of many congregations across the country. Our presbyteries are going to need more and more help discerning and making decisions about closing churches in the years to come. Perhaps those presbyteries that have been creative and courageous and have found some kind of viability criteria would share, with the hope of helping others facing the same questions. Anyone?

Thank you to Wes for sharing his sermon from Friday at the conference. His text is the Emmaus Road story in Luke 24:

We  have  a family cottage on Six Mile Lake in Muskoka.  I’ve been  going up there since I was first born – in fact since before  I was  born.   And pretty soon the next generation will be experiencing the cottage.  My daughter Laurie is expecting her first child later this summer. 

When my daughter Laurie was maybe four or five years old. We were up at that cottage and it was a clear evening, and so I said to her, “Laurie, after it gets dark out tonight, do you want me to get you out of bed and we can go down onto the dock to see the stars?”

You know what it’s like when you get away from the lights of the city.  You can see thousands of  star,  and  the faint  shimmering  band  of  the Milky  Way  running  across  the sky … it’s breathtaking …She was thrilled … just so excited to be able to go  and look  at  the  stars with daddy … “Yes, yes! please  wake  me  up daddy!”

It  was around ten-thirty or eleven, and I went into  her  room, and  I woke her up, wrapped her in a warm blanket,  and  carried her down by the water to look at the stars. For a few seconds she looked up at the sky, then all of sudden she  buried her head in my shoulder, and she started  to  whimper and tremble, “What’s the matter Laurie?”

“I’m  scared … I want to go back up to the cottage …  daddy, will you lie down with me in bed? … I’m scared …” And  I  looked  at  this  little girl,  who  climbed  trees  like  a monkey,  who  loved  rides at Canada’s Wonderland  that  made  my  stomach sick  …  no kiddie rides for her, only the adult rides,  and  not  a moment of fear.

And I looked up at the sky, and suddenly I knew why she  was afraid.  In one fell swoop the size of her universe had expanded a million times.  Her little universe of grandma and  grandpa,  aunts  and  uncles,  cousins  and  friends,  had  taken  a  leap beyond  her ability to understand or comprehend.  With one  look at that view, which inspired awe and wonder in me, she had been displaced from the center of the universe.

Do you ever feel that way in this universe – small and insignificant – one person  amongst  the  teeming  billions  who  populate   this planet  …  a  rather ordinary planet orbiting an average  reliable  sun … a million times bigger  than  our  planet, but  only one of two hundred billion stars in our galaxy.  And our massive galaxy, only one of countless galaxies in the universe.

God has created vastness beyond our ability to comprehend.

And I think that troubles us … the very size of God …

 And I think it troubled those early disciples of Jesus as well.

During the course of his ministry, the disciples of Jesus were gradually but steadily being introduced to the immensity of what Jesus is about.  Do you think they’re begin­ning to get the size of it?  They start out as twelve Galileans just following Jesus, and pretty soon he’s embracing lepers, babies, unclean people, sinners, poor, lame, blind, deaf, rich people, Roman soldiers … he reaches out … tax collectors.  This thing is getting too big.  When we keep it small I know how to pray, I know what to wish for: “Lord bless me, my family, and all that are in this church. Amen.”

This thing is getting big.  It’s not too long before the church is stretching out its arms to encompass the whole world … the whole created order … the whole universe.  There’s not a thing that exists, not a star, not a squirrel, not an apple tree, that will not be finally embraced in the love of God.

I wonder if that’s partly why those disciples on the road to Emmaus are sad.  They had a small dream of what Jesus would do. “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel,” they said. 

I wonder if part of what Jesus revealed to them on the road that first Easter Sunday – what got them excited enough to ask him to stay with them – was a revelation of the larger plan of God.  As Paul says in Ephesians, “making known to us the mystery of God’s will that is set forth in Christ – a plan for the fullness of time to gather up all things in God, things in heaven and things on earth.”

Is it possible those two disciples could not see the size of God’s mission?  Jesus had not come to overthrow the Romans, but to redeem humanity, to give meaning and purpose to life lived everywhere and in every age and, in the end, to overcome the final enemy … death …

Is it possible the power and scope of God’s work in our midst is constrained, not by any deficiency on the part of God, but by the poverty of our imagination?  We cannot see the size of God’s mission. 

Imagine a child visits the seashore one day.  He splashes in the shallow water.  He collects seashells.  He builds a sandcastle. The next day he meets with a little friend who says to him, “What’s the ocean like?” And this child says to his friend, “Oh, I know everything about the ocean.  I was at the ocean yesterday.  It’s sandy and warm and sunny and it’s really fun to play there!”

Does that child really know what the ocean is like? No … no … and what of us? 

Like little children, we stand on the shore of a vast and mysterious sea of wisdom and faith, knowledge and understanding.  We can only look out over this tremendous ocean and be amazed and startled at its great size.  And like little  children, as  we stand on the beach in the sunlight, dipping our feet in the shallow water, we cannot even begin to comprehend … the richness and depth of God.

Maybe we should be careful when we say, “I know” … because this universe … it’s a big place …

I have been a Presbyterian all my life, and I have served this church as an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament for over twenty-five years.  When I look back, I realize how much I used to know about God and church and worship.  Now I feel a little bit like the great 20^th century theologian Karl Barth.  When asked towards the end of his life how he would summarize the essence of the millions of words he had published, he replied, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”               

I  don’t know what the church will look like in fifty years,  or  even in twenty-five years.  But I’m not worried about the church.  We have companions on this Road to Emmaus journey.  We have each other, we have the Risen Christ, and we have our relationship  to God; and we’ve been through many  other  wilderness times before, with just exactly those same companions.

Anglican Theologian  Herbert  O’Driscoll  puts it this way, “We can be sure  of  this:  If humanity survives, ten thousand years from now, on some far  distant planet,  there will be a group of men and women sitting together,  and there may not be much that we recognize about this group or the  way they  dress  or  the way they speak or  the  technology  that’s  brought them  to  this  distant place, but we will recognize  the  name  “Jesus”, and we will recognize something like bread and wine which they pass amongst  themselves to remember his life and his love, and his  dying and rising for all of them … and for all of us.”

We have passed this way before …

As we look up at that star filled sky, may we trust God will lead us into a new and wondrous future. However, I have absolutely no idea what that will look like!  I am both terrified and excited to see where God will take us …

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your seat into its full upright position.  Fasten your seat belt.  Prepare for take off!