Week 15 – Jewish Orthodox

Spending Easter, Looking for Jesus, Amongst the Jews

I showed up at the Chabad Lubavitch a few minutes before the published start time. The doors were still locked. I walked around the building but didn’t find any other open entrance. I wondered if they were celebrating different this weekend because of Passover.

I sat in my truck and brought up their website on my smart phone. I couldn’t find any special announcements about this weekend other than they weren’t planning to have the normal meal after the service.

Next to the Chabad center is a Starbucks. I kept watching people drive up, park their vehicles and head to the coffee shop. I was wondering how the attendance in the local churches compares to that in the coffee shops over the weekend. That is when I saw the Rabbi walk up with his two small sons. I waited a few minutes and more vehicles began to arrive with people seeking Shabbat instead of Frappuccinos.

The room was split with a divider and the men and women were already taking their places on the proper sides. I felt conscious of my lack of head covering and looked to see if there were any Kippahs available for visitors. I didn’t find any, but the Rabbi did hand me the prayer book we would use. I had arrived for the Shacharit, the traditional Jewish service for morning prayers. It was over an hour long, all in Hebrew, and I was glad for the English translation so I could follow along silently while the others read and recited in Hebrew. The Rabbi took a prayer shawl, called a Tallit, off the shelf and went through a specific ritual of draping it over his head and shoulders. The Tallit was edged with Tzitzit, twined and knotted fringes that were handled like Catholic prayer beads at various times during the prayers. We faced an open window to the East, right into the sun. I couldn’t help but wonder how Christian worship services would feel different if the bands and singers faced away from the congregation instead of fronting them. Maybe we’d have less performance issues. I had no less sense of being led by the Rabbi, even though I was watching his back. There were no instruments during this prayer and Psalm singing, but the Rabbi’s two boys would tap out rhythms on the window seal and the wooden pulpit.

This is Easter weekend, and I’m normally at a Christian church for a sunrise service and worship celebration. I know this congregation is in the middle of celebrating Passover, but I’ve come with expectancy to hear about the Resurrection regardless. I found it as we read Psalm 30. It was originally a Psalm of David that was sung at the dedication of the temple. To me it reads as an Easter morning song that has specific, prophetic nods to Jesus’ death and time in the grave.

30:1 I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up
and have not let my foes rejoice over me.
2 O Lord my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3 O Lord, you have brought up my soul from Sheol;
you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.

4 Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5 For his anger is but for a moment,
and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.

6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
“I shall never be moved.”
7 By your favor, O Lord,
you made my mountain stand strong;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.

8 To you, O Lord, I cry,
and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
9 “What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me!
O Lord, be my helper!”

11 You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth
and clothed me with gladness,
12 that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

I also found great significance from the Rabbi’s teaching. We discussed the passage in Exodus where Moses crafts a second set of stones for God to inscribe the 10 commandments after Moses had broken the fist set. The Rabbi was full of interesting perspectives about the passage and filled in historical commentary that I’ve never heard. He shared things that were definitely worth considering and applying in my own life. I appreciated this teaching time because there was dialog back and for the between the congregation and the Rabbi. We weren’t just being taught at, we were given the opportunity to share and encouraged to ask questions. I found I have things to learn, about life and loving God, from the Orthodox Jews.

It is easy, I think, for some Christians to dismiss Judaism and their traditions.

It is easier, I’ve seen, for other Christians to make too much of it.

The hard part, but what may easily be the most rewarding, is to join into relationship and worship with them.

Week 15 Preview – Jewish Orthodox

Tradition!

There are two Jewish congregations in my neighborhood. I called the first to ask about attending this weekend. They have two services, a reformed service, where 75% is in Hebrew, and a contemporary service, which they thought would be easier for me, a visitor, to take in. I agreed to join them on a Friday night when they had their contemporary service, but this week I already had Friday evening plans. This left the even more traditional, Orthodox congregation as my religious outing for the week.

There may be enough Jewish people in my neighborhood for a couple of synagogues, but I don’t know any of them personally. Having grown up in the Christian church I know a lot of early Jewish history from the Old Testament, and having grown up in America I know a lot about recent Jewish history, their persecutions and struggles, but I’ve never visited the Holy Land or one of their places of worship. Much of what I know of their lifestyle (again) comes from the way that media represents them in TV shows and movies.

No, I don’t really know or understand Judaism but I’d like to learn more of their traditions. I’ve already memorized all of the songs from “Fiddler on the Roof.” If they play one of those during the worship time, I’ll sing as loud and as proud as Topol.

May the Lord protect and defend you.
May He always shield you from shame.
May you come to be
In Israel a shining name.

Week 14 – New Apostolic Church

Even when you regularly attend the same church every week not every service feels like a home run. I shouldn’t expect every visit to every church I visit this year to be successful. This visit wasn’t exactly a strike out, but I feel like I just barely got to first base.

I walked in a few minutes before the service and wasn’t sure where to go. There was a blackboard in the entry way with several different instructions, but because there were people coming in right behind me I didn’t get to stop and read it. The narrow entryway pushed me right up the stairs and past the information table. I just kept moving into the sanctuary and found a spot on the back pew.

I watched others enter the room. They were all taking the hymnals off the information table I’d passed and bringing them with them. I didn’t understand why the books weren’t already located in the pews but now I was without one. It seemed like it was time for the service to start, and people weren’t milling around or being social so I didn’t want to get up and walk back across the room. I felt nervous and out of place. A majority of the people were in white shirts and ties. Even the kid quietly reading The Foot Book, by Dr. Seuss was dressed up nicer than I was.

A man stood to give the opening prayer. He mentioned the “Blessing Bearers” (whom I assumed were the apostles or some other high functioning leaders in the church), the departed souls, and baptism. I found it interesting that he covered so many of the distinctive points about this brand of Christianity in the prayer. All of the people stood and folded their hands the same way when the prayer started. At the end they all said, “Amen” in unison, but in a low, reserved tone. It weirded me out a bit. I guess it isn’t all that different from the physical responses to prayer that I practice like “Bow your head and close your eyes.” It is just different than what I am used to.

An usher with thick, coke bottle eyeglasses observed that I didn’t have a hymnal and gave me his. The organist started playing a song, all the way through, but no one sang. Then it got deathly quiet for a couple of minutes. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to be meditating on the words we hadn’t sung or if we were waiting for some more church officials to enter the room. Then the organist started playing again and this time we joined in with the words. This was followed by all of the people in white shirts and ties circling the organ. They were the choir. Now I was glad I wasn’t dressed like them.

I wasn’t able to track with who was who and what was what. There were visiting priests and bishops and the mention of a district apostle. I’m not sure what was normal and what was unusual about this weekend. I took notes in my journal as the various men spoke and then handed off the next part to another leader.

The congregation sat very still and reverent through the procedures. They echoed their low ‘amen’ at the end of each section. Then it was time for communion. I didn’t really feel comfortable enough to participate with them. I was confused when I watched those sitting in the front row go forward and receive the elements. I only saw them get a wafer of bread, but nothing to signify the cup. By the time they got to the back row I just politely declined their invitation. When I got home I looked up how the New Apostolic Church took communion. They use wafers that are already infused with three drops of wine. I’m sure this is easier to set up and possibly more hygienic, but I like the physical experience of drinking, sipping or dunking.

Then all of a sudden the leaders were done officiating and the reverent part of the service was over. It was if the entire congregation had been carefully holding their breath and now they could relax. Smiles appeared, warmness entered the room, and people started acting like people instead of religious Autobots. It was during this part of the service that announcements were made, laughter was heard, birthdays were celebrated, and specific needs in the congregation were shared. I felt much more connected to the people in the New Apostolic Church than their religion. I imagine others could say the same thing about me when I’m acting religious.

It didn’t seem this church was all that used to visitors. Once everything was wrapped up, I realized that I had created a bit of a stir. The Pastor/Priest/Bishop’s wife wanted to know if I was from the local media. I guess most people don’t take notes during the service; maybe it was even inappropriate. When I told her that I lived in the neighborhood and just dropped by to visit she changed her concern. “Oh, well, I saw all the notes you were writing and all the verses you were looking up in your Bible.” (I only had my journal in hand, but it does look like it could be a Bible.) “I want to reassure you that everything we do is by the book. It is just scriptural, scriptural, scriptural!” She smiled. I smiled back at her. It made me wonder how much energy this church has spent with other Christians and people in the media who have labeled their denomination a cult. When she saw that I hadn’t come to argue she was very friendly. “Let me introduce you to my husband!”

He was concerned that some of the elements of the service that might have seemed chaotic. I told him much of it was new, but there was nothing that offended me. There were a lot of questions I could have asked about my experience that morning, but I was already exhausted from the effort of attending. Really I didn’t want to know more about the New Apostolic Church so I just asked him about the granddaughter he was holding in his arms.

At the end of our conversation he apologized that we’ve been neighbors for years and that they’d never reached out to me. I apologized for the same.

Week 14 Preview – New Apostolic Church

There is a little church tucked into the corner of my neighborhood. The only thing I know about them is there name, which is on the sign out in the front lawn.

I did a little bit of research to find out what is particular to this branch of the Christian church.

• You have to be baptized with water before you can experience a close relationship with God or receive the Holy Spirit.
• If you are baptized as an infant, you get it confirmed as a teenager.
• Baptism only counts if it was done in the triune name of God – Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
• Communion is celebrated every week.
• The church views the “Holy Sealing” by the Holy Spirit an necessary step in being a child of God.
• The church believes in pre-millennial eschatology and considers the second coming of Jesus to be imminent.
• The church believes in the role of the Apostles for the church today.
• The church has a special doctrine for the departed, having three annual services where prayers, communion and baptism for the dead are performed.

Some of these points are outside what I would consider orthodox. I have a choice to make. Will I exclude these neighbors from fellowship because of different points of view and spiritual practices, or is there enough common ground to consider them, and treat them, as family?

Week 13 – Roman Catholic Church

I went to the Catholic Church with some expectancy. I like this pillar of faith in my neighborhood. When I talk about this church to others it is always with affection and respect. Unfortunately my enthusiasm wasn’t met with inclusion during their service that I attended. If anything, it made me feel very much of an outsider.

Personally I’m not all that enthused about the role of the priest in the church. It was the very opposite of what I’d experienced in the Brethren Church the week before, where the pastor had a very limited role in the service and just sat down in the pews with the rest of us brothers and sisters. In the Catholic Church the priest was sitting in a big throne with younger people dressed in costumes running around doing errands for him. It reminded me of the holiday scene in the local mall with Santa Claus and the elves. Saint Nick was decked out in his robes for this service and was checking to see if all the Catholic kids had been naughty or nice.

It was hard for me to find my place in the liturgy. While some churches have gone out of their way to make sure new people know how and when to follow along and participate, in this church it felt like you should already know. I watched the people around me kneel, bow, curtsy and cross themselves without being given any direction to do so. It appeared to me they had grown up with this structure and it was second nature to them. I watched one little boy, about 2, before the service started. He was dressed sharp but acted very unhappy. He had a beatitudes coloring book in hand but was hitting himself in the forehead with it over and over to express his frustration with the woman who was anxiously trying to get him to behave properly. It seemed he had already learned, “Blessed are those who punish themselves, for such is the manner among Catholics.” He was quickly ushered into the ‘cry room’ at the back of the sanctuary. I had noticed the room on my way in. It had a sign that read, “If your child has calmed please vacate your place for others.” I understood the direction, but it felt somewhat cold and corporate.

I really experienced the corporate bent as I looked through the bulletin. I’ve never seen one with full color advertisements from the businesses in the local community. I guess it is a smart publication to push your products, but it felt out of place, like maybe it should have been left out in the courtyard where Jesus could overturn a table or two with the bulletins stacked high on them.

During this project I’ve participated in the celebration of communion in the churches when it was offered and I felt comfortable doing so. This Sunday it wasn’t an option; the decision had been made for me. I had to move out of the pew to let all the other acceptable people go down to the altar for their share of the Body of Christ while I had to go back to my seat, head bowed, more in shame than humility.

In our zeal to create some order out of religious chaos we create definitions and boundaries to figure out who is in and who is out. I very much felt the presence of that circle on Sunday morning and recognized that I’d been drawn outside of the acceptable arc.

As much as I’d like to personally love the Catholic Church, the structure in place will keep me as a distant admirer. I leave the service feeling sad and out of place.

I’ve taken some extra time on this visit to process my thoughts. My neighbor is a very devout Christian who attends this same Catholic Church. I know that for her she finds a great deal of comfort and encouragement from her participation there. Of course, she is already on the inside of the circle and benefits from all of the rites and routines. She comes home from her meetings at St. Nicks and is full of gifts for me and my family. Though we may not be on the inside of the Roman Catholic Church’s circle, we are very much inside of my neighbor’s. Her care and love for us is unmatched. I may not be able to embrace all that is Roman Catholicism, but I can with a full heart of giving and receiving, embrace my neighbor. She is the best expression of Catholicism that I know.

My other example of who this church is working for comes with a spoonful of humility. I mentored a young adult who wanted to pursue an active spiritual life in Christianity. Religion had not been a part of her very difficult background and she was learning to create something very new for herself from a lot of brokeness. She sat through my lectures, spent time in my home, ate my food, and followed my instructions the best she was able. She still struggled to find a rhythm of faith that worked for her. This last week I received an invitation to join her in celebrating her confirmation in the Catholic Church on Easter. She has found great strength in their particular expressions of discipleship. For that, I am overjoyed. It makes me realize that while I may not be at home in that particular environment, some of those whom I love, are. For that, I am eternally grateful.