que·ry
[kweer-ee]
noun,plural que·ries.
Today marked my fifth appearance as pianist for the church (not counting the last Sunday of February that I played under the supervision of the former pianist). There's a lot I could say about the gig, some of which has been and will be remarked upon in the Sojourner in the 21st Century blog. Sunday Questions will be devoted to questions and considerations that occur to me during the hour I spend at Grace Lutheran each week.
The Lutheran liturgy is fairly precise in that the liturgical year is defined by recurring observances like Lent, Easter, Advent, etc., and the words and tunes for each service are written out in a bound book, forming a sort of "script" that minister and congregants alike follow fairly closely.
On fifth Sundays, an alternate minister serves the church. He follows the script precisely. The rest of the time, a good-humored elderly man serves as regular minister. Whether because of age (he is 80-something years old) or temperament, his relationship to the script is much looser, e.g., he omits some passages or rearranges the sequencing. This created a challenge for the previous church pianist and I was forewarned. The challenge is even greater for me, being completely unfamiliar with Lutheran liturgy. For me, his improvised, imprecise approach is mildly amusing and creates even milder stress; but I sense that church members are less amused. It's something they put up with but would rather not.
Today's hymn titles:
1.
a question; an inquiry.
2.
This morning's sermon at Grace Lutheran in Holly Springs was entitled "What Kind of God is That?"
Fitting that the theme of the first service under consideration in this new blog -- Sunday Questions -- is a question.
Today marked my fifth appearance as pianist for the church (not counting the last Sunday of February that I played under the supervision of the former pianist). There's a lot I could say about the gig, some of which has been and will be remarked upon in the Sojourner in the 21st Century blog. Sunday Questions will be devoted to questions and considerations that occur to me during the hour I spend at Grace Lutheran each week.The Lutheran liturgy is fairly precise in that the liturgical year is defined by recurring observances like Lent, Easter, Advent, etc., and the words and tunes for each service are written out in a bound book, forming a sort of "script" that minister and congregants alike follow fairly closely.
On fifth Sundays, an alternate minister serves the church. He follows the script precisely. The rest of the time, a good-humored elderly man serves as regular minister. Whether because of age (he is 80-something years old) or temperament, his relationship to the script is much looser, e.g., he omits some passages or rearranges the sequencing. This created a challenge for the previous church pianist and I was forewarned. The challenge is even greater for me, being completely unfamiliar with Lutheran liturgy. For me, his improvised, imprecise approach is mildly amusing and creates even milder stress; but I sense that church members are less amused. It's something they put up with but would rather not.
Grace Lutheran is a tiny congregation. Today, for example, attendance was at an all-time high since I assumed my post with 13 people present -- including the minister and me.
A recurrent puzzle for me is What is the thinking around maintaining a building for so few people? How do they afford it? Wouldn't it be simpler and less expensive to either meet in someone's home or share space with another small congregation?
Many of my queries each week arise from perceived illogical or contradictory statements made by the presiding minister, ostensibly the designated provider of wisdom and spiritual guidance for the community. The dedication of members, whatever its basis, is apparent so I presume they take these sermon messages seriously. I presume listen to what the ministers say and attempt to integrate the teaching into their lives. Each week I ponder the cognitive processing that allows them to accept -- and return week after week for supplements and repetitions! -- messages that are riddled with inconsistencies, non sequiturs, and patent subjectivity as guidance.
Today, for example, to illustrate the error of asking in hard times "How could God let this happen to me?" the minister employed the analogy of a driver who enters an intersection without "looking both ways" and is struck by an oncoming vehicle. "You can't blame God for that!" he said. "Whose fault is it?"
On the one hand, the example is so simplistic it's almost embarrassing. Was there anyone among the 11 people present this morning who would run a red light and be blind to their own culpability?
On the other hand, I have to ask, again, "How can an all-powerful, all-knowing God, whose love for us is passionate, intimate, pervasive and unconditional, not be moved to intervene on our behalf when bad things happen to us in the World he created?" Granted, this is the same all-powerful, all-knowing God who allowed the crucifixion of his only child...
On the other hand, I have to ask, again, "How can an all-powerful, all-knowing God, whose love for us is passionate, intimate, pervasive and unconditional, not be moved to intervene on our behalf when bad things happen to us in the World he created?" Granted, this is the same all-powerful, all-knowing God who allowed the crucifixion of his only child...
With regard to earthquakes, hurricanes and mudslides, the reverend reminded listeners that "If you've been told a fault line runs under the place where you build, if you've been told the area is prone to mudslides and you still build there, you can't blame God for that."
According to today's teaching "God does not punish us. It is our own sinful natures that bring most of our misfortune and get us into trouble. God wants only healing and love for us." Atheists, of course, have been prolific and sometimes eloquent in their refutation of this philosophy but of special note is a new book called "Drunk with Blood: God's Killing in the Bible" by Steve Wells that I'd like to get my hands on. Wells' book is particularly interesting to me because he bases his report on Biblical documentation, the recognized first and last word on all things God for Christians.
One question that arose for me at this point in the sermon: So does he (or does he not) control weather and earthquakes and volcanic eruptions and etc? If he does, should we understand that God either does not know or does not care that, for humans, such events are painful, inconvenient and stressful? And should we read such occurrences as acts of love?
And if he does NOT control these events, what do religious teachers mean by "omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent"?
A fundamental and enduring conundrum for me in traditional Christian theology is the conflict between unceasing reminders of the unrelenting sinfulness of the human heart, unceasing reminders that God's son died to wash away all sin and the less-frequently mentioned reminder that humans are created in God's image. Is there not an obvious conflict between the ideas like "every human being was redeemed for all time by Christ's death on the cross" AND "every human being is unassailably sinful and wayward by nature and thus required (by the Church) to regularly confess what an omniscient God already knows" AND "every human being is created in God's image"?
Today's sermon also included an idea that is somewhat new to me. We were told that some misfortune is God's way of preparing us to live with him after death. Hard times and difficulties are opportunities to learn the devotion and piety and patience and courage and persistence and resourcefulness and ? required to live in God's presence. Among the questions this concept sparked:
- Does this mean that heaven is just one damn thing after another and so we need to get good at suffering? Are we rehearsing how to live with relentless disaster and bad luck? or
- Is heaven full of peace and light and everything working out beautifully all the time and earthly suffering is more a matter of earning a place in paradise?
- Is it possible to distinguish which misfortunes result from human sin and which are tailor-made learning/rehearsal opportunities provided by God?
- What was God thinking to not have created humans already equipped with the levels of devotion, piety, patience, etc. necessary for peaceful cohabitation with him in heaven, given how many of his beloved creatures fail, wreak havoc, or die in the process of trying to learn these things?
- And how do you know you're doing it right, learning the right things in the right way? Is there a test? What happens to those who try hard but don't make the grade?
Today's hymn titles:
- Lord Jesus Christ, Be Present Now
- O Savior, Precious Savior
- O Jesus, Blessed Lord, To Thee
- Take My Life and Let It Be
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