All posts by The Rev. Erik Parker

iPhone Pastor for a Typewriter Church. Blogger, Podcaster | High Church Lutheran | Husband & Dad | Oilers fan in exile | He/Him

More Lenten “Why?” Questions

This Lent has been centered around the question of “Why?”

We have been sharing in Soup+Bread Lenten studies following worship and it has been invigorating – at least for me! As a pastor, I really enjoy the opportunities to teach that come along from time to time. But I hope that participants have been getting as much out of our sessions as I have. Our conversations have been lively and I think I have seen moments when people have been opened up to new ideas and understandings. 

So far we have explored the ideas of “Why Faith?” and “Why Christianity?”.

This week we will explore the questions, “Why the Word? Why do we read the Bible?”

Now, if you want to know why we read the Bible as Christians, how we understand it together, why we read it and not other books, you will have to come to our study on Sunday!

But for the past number of months, I have been asking my own “why?” questions about the Bible. Particularly, I have been wondering about how we listen to the Word in worship. How I listen to the Word in worship. 

Now this might seem a like a strange thing to wonder about. Isn’t the answer obvious? Someone reads the reading and the rest of us listen/read along, right? On the surface that is true, but there is a lot more to it than that. 

In fact, in our liturgy class in seminary there was a lot of time devoted to understanding just what we were doing when we read from the Scriptures in worship. 

We talked about how Scripture is read. Does the reader read it like a Shakespearian actor delivering a soliloquy? Or like Ferris Bueller’s teacher taking attendance, with the flattest affect possible? Do you look up to make eye contact or look at the words continuously so as not to lose your place?  

We talked about whether the Sunday readings are for learning and study or for edification and exhortation. 

We talked about how to listen to the readings. For example, the presider should model listening by looking at the reader rather than busily looking at the worship plan. Should we read along with the words or simply use our ears to hear the reading? When we read along, our brains switch into matching the words we are reading to what we are hearing, while deprioritizing comprehension. Simply listening is ideal. And yet making the readings accessible for those who are hard of hearing is important as well. 

And then there are deeper questions about what the readings are for. We tend to think the Word portion of worship is like a Bible study where we learn about each reading. Yet, cramming in a deeper understanding of all four readings each week is a lot to ask in the seven or eight minutes we spend hearing the Word. Similarly, shifting to a system like the Narrative Lectionary is a challenge because it disconnects the readings from the larger liturgical calendar and the ways in which in each Sunday’s set of readings support one another to tell the narrative of each season.

More and more I am coming to the view that it takes a certain kind of skill and attention to hear the Word in worship. Rather than following closely, word matching or studying the Word as if for a test, hearing Scripture in worship is something like going to the symphony. 

At the symphony, there might be a lecture on the music before the concert. There might be things about the history of the music to learn at home. But in the moment, during the concert, we listen attentively. We let the music wash over us catching the emotion, the harmonies and dissonance that evoke different responses or feelings within us. 

Similarly when hearing the Word in worship, we listen best to whatever words inspire or comfort, challenge or compel. We listen for things that God might be saying to us in that moment, and then we let the readings go, as we contemplate what message the Spirit has gifted us with. 

At least for me, this has been a change in how I hear the Word and how I have found myself connected with the readings. I invite you to try it, too. Don’t worry if you remember the story from Sunday school, or whether you know anything about the prophet whose book the reading is from or about which letter of Paul’s the reading is from. Just let the Word of God wash over you as you would a beautiful symphony, and see what God might be saying to you this week.

All of our “whys?” might be different

A week into the season of Lent, and I cannot seem to escape reasons to continue thinking about some of the “Why?” questions at the heart of our faith. Of course, I brought it on myself by planning a Lenten study on the theme of “Why?” questions. 

But just a few days ago I was asked my professional opinion about what kind of groups qualified as Christian ministries or churches. For example, could a ministry to gang members that worked to “rehabilitate” former members (and still maintained some connection to gangs) be considered a legitimate ministry? The scenario was a complicated one, which I won’t share here. But the question did bring me back to that core question of Lent, asking “Why Church?”

The answers to this kind of question can vary wildly. In fact, if you were to poll most people sitting in the pews or watching church online these days, you would likely find some vastly different reasons for why folks are present or watching. 

The starting place for the question has to be sorting out these answers for ourselves before we can ask them of others, before we can begin to have conversations about what we ought to be and do together as communities of faith. 

Last week our Lenten study asked the question, “Why faith?” And it took us on a journey to explore why we believe in something or someone rather than believing in nothing. 

As we continue our Lenten study this week, we will be exploring “Why Christianity?” Why does this version of believing in something or someone capture our attention, imagination and faithfulness more than something else? Why don’t we believe in re-incarnation or the power of the human spirit or that Mohammed is the prophet of Allah?

I know that I won’t be able to provide THE answer or, maybe that I won’t be able to necessarily provide the answer that makes sense for you. But it is a question that I have been working on since I was young man imagining what I might be when I grew up and the idea of becoming a pastor kept floating to the top of the list of possibilities. 

So when you come and explore this question at our Soup+Bread Lenten study this week, or you just take some time to ponder this question on your own, I hope that exploring these “Why?” questions are a way for us to journey through Lent together. That, as we seek to understand who and what we are as a community of faith, and why we do what we do, it will help us seek God’s leading for our future. 

Blessings on the journey. 

Why Worship? – Pastor Thoughts

Back when I was still going to seminary (pastor school), I found myself in church on a Sunday contemplating, “Why are we all here, doing this?” When I stepped back, I really wanted to know why all the people who were there on Sunday had come to sing, pray, read the Bible and receive the bread and wine together. Why did they do this, instead of all the other possible things that they could do on a Sunday morning?

Our theme of asking ‘Why?” continues this week. 

So far our Lenten journey has taken us through “Why Faith?”, “Why Christianity?”, and “Why the Bible?”.

Now we ask,“Why Worship?”.

As we have unpacked these “why” questions in our Lenten study, we have examined why we have faith in something rather than in nothing. We looked at how the life, death and resurrection of Jesus offer a compelling experiment of God’s mercy and grace. We have seen the ways that Christ the Word is witnessed to in the pages of Scripture. 

On this fourth week we start to put some of these pieces together as we contemplate why we worship. 

As we have already explored, there are a whole lot of complicated reasons that bring us to church, but once we are here it isn’t always obvious to ask why we are doing this rather than that. Instead, we often default to “I like that rather than this” and congregations can fall into the dread worship wars. Strong lines of preference are drawn over music styles, worship times, service length, the frequency of communion and a host of other things that can be easy to fight about. 

But they aren’t matters of “why.” Why do we come together? Why do we sing and pray and hear the Bible together? Why is that stuff important to do together in a church building rather than alone or in some other place?

And if we are honest with ourselves and each other, a lot of people are asking why it is important to take the time every week to show up at all – and they are coming to the conclusion that it isn’t important. A big part of that might be because we don’t often talk about the “why” of worship, but operate with a system that says, “It just IS important and you should all know why!”

Back on that Sunday in seminary, I wanted to know why we were all sitting in the pews for this strange worship of which we were a part. People don’t generally sing, pray and read the Bible with other folks anywhere else in their world, did they? So why did we do it here?

I have been thinking about that question ever since. While I know that there are at least as many reasons as there are people in the pews, I think it has something to do with knowing that we simply cannot do faith alone. We cannot believe it, practice it, hear it, teach it, and pass it on alone. And so God brings us together, even if is strange. Especially because it is strange and we don’t do the stuff we do in worship just about anywhere else in our lives. 

If you want to really unpack this question, you will have to join us for Lenten study this week. But suffice it to say, after 15 years serving in parish ministry, I am starting to see that, despite all the weird things that we do as a part of worship, that God is up to even more incredible things with us. And that coming together for worship is one of the few ways we can begin to see and imagine what God is doing with us. 

Lent is for asking good questions

This is the fourth Lenten season of the Pandemic. It was during Lent that our first lockdowns began. Many people of faith remarked during that time that Lent never really ended in 2020. I think that remains true in 2023. 

Lent is a season for simplicity and paring back, for repentance and renewal. All the practices that make up Lent, giving things up or taking things on, are meant to be ways to disrupt our routines lived on autopilot, and make room for us to remember and reconsider our relationship with God and our call to discipleship 

One of the fundamental questions of Lent is “why?” Not only is this a question of Lent but a question of our time. 

As a new pastor in 2009 freshly out of seminary, I quickly realized that the “why” of church was often something we assumed but didn’t discuss. I realized that a big part of my role was going to be teaching people again (or maybe for the first time) why church matters. Life-long members, actively engaged folks, casual attenders and fringe members all the way to seekers and newcomers. It seemed that for many of the people I was serving then that it was assumed that we all knew why we should be at church, and that talking about it too much was a risky thing. 

I recall meeting with one family for baptism; the parents of the newborn were only a little older than I was. Grandma and Grandpa, who were strong active members of the congregation were insisting on the baptism, while the parents were hesitant. The mother said to me, “I haven’t been to church much lately. I stopped coming more because whenever I asked questions, I was told to stop questioning everything.”

I let that mother ask me any question she wanted about church, faith, the Bible and God. 

Asking questions, and specifically asking “Why?” is not only okay, it is important. A faith that cannot stand up to our questions is not truly faith at all but something more like a cult. A rich, deep and well-practiced faith is one where questions are essential, exploring “Why?” is the point. The church is one of the very few places in our world that has the capacity to address faith and the “why’s” of life, even when asked about the deepest parts of ourselves, our world and of God. 

This week as we start our Lenten study called “Why Church?”, we will take the time to lay out our questions and have conversations that have to do with anything we might be wondering, but that ultimately get to the heart of the matter. 

Asking “Why?” and taking the time to articulate “why” is so very important as we enter the Lenten wilderness and as we navigate the wildernesses of pandemic, declines, social change and change in our community and congregation. I invite you into this conversation and disciple this Lent. 

Let’s explore the questions together.

The symbol of the Ashes still matters – an Ash Wednesday Sermon

GOSPEL: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Jesus said to the disciples:] 1“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven….

*Note: Sermons are posted in the manuscript draft that they were preached in, and may contain typos or other errors that were resolved in my delivery. See the Sherwood Park Lutheran Facebook Page for video

The ashy cross smeared onto a forehead on Ash Wednesday still holds a place of symbolic meaning in our world. You may have already seen a few folks out and about today bearing their ashes still on their foreheads. You might see some TV personalities who will wear their ashes on their news programs or late night variety shows. Today is that day when Christians can be seen out in the world with that black smudge on their faces, a visible sign that they have been to church in the middle of the week as Lent begins. 

Just a few days ago we were up on the mountain of Transfiguration, followed by the mountain that is our Annual Meeting. Places and moments to look around and survey the world around us, to see the paths that we have travelled and hopefully see the route of the journey ahead. 

But as Jesus and the disciples and us come down from that mountain top moment, we enter back into the fray of the valley and we soon encounter the symbol of the Ashes.

The Ashes that are imposed on our foreheads and their meaning transcend time and space. Even without knowing much about Ash Wednesday or Church or Christianity, the image of an ash marked face seems to say something profound, something important.  Something about impermanence and mortality, something about our limits and our finite nature, something about just how we live lives that constantly run parallel to death. 

Ash Wednesday not only reminds us of our mortality, but reminds us that death takes many shapes in our lives. From the small deaths of sin, conflict, division, suffering and strife to the way death is imposed our on emotions, our bodies and very beings. 

In this way, there is a discomfort that comes with Ash Wednesday. We work so hard to avoid thinking about and considering our own mortality. We strive to sanitize death, to make it clinical and distant and remote, very unlike the meshy smudge of ashes that will be stamped onto our foreheads tonight. We want to keep death far from our minds and experience for as long as we can. 

For many of the funerals that I did early on as a pastor, funeral directors would come prepared for the committals at the grave. They would often bring vials of sand for the moment when I would commend the deceased to the ground saying, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” As I said the portion of the prayer of committal, I would mark the casket with the cross with the sand. The little metal vial would make it easy to produce a cross in sand as it poured evenly onto the caskets. It was the correct liturgical action, yet it seemed careful and contained. The symbol was muted by the neatness. 

In more recent years as graveside committals have become more rare, funeral directors have mostly stopped bringing the vials of sand. So I have been required to go back to the traditional means for marking caskets with the symbol of the cross – I have been using dirt. Dirt from the grave itself, usually piled nearby under a green turf carpet attempting to hide the fact that this grave is a hole in the ground. 

The symbol changes when you go from holding a carefully filled vial of sand to grabbing a handful of dirt and marking a clumpy cross on a casket. The sand usually blended into the finished wood the casket, while the dirt feel like dumping a handful of soil onto a carefully set dinning room table. The dirt doesn’t feel like it belongs. And yet as the words are said, “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust” it becomes a proclamation of defiance. Defiance against our attempts to contain death, to keep ourselves detached and removed from the messiness of death. Caskets and graves are not little condos in the ground, but in that moment we are returning a person, a loved one to the impermanent and mortal place from where we were created. 

Dropping those clumps of dirt on caskets and marking foreheads with wispy palm ashes are moments that go hand in hand. Symbols that say something more than words about them can, they are the very thing from where we come from and to where we return. As God took the dirt and formed the Adam – the dirt creature in Hebrew – God brought human beings into existence. Our bodies are destined to return to the same dirt and mud, the same dust and ash. And as we make that proclamation at Funerals and on Ash Wednesday, the dirt and the ashes bring us close where we came from and to where we return.  

And yet, the ashes aren’t just reminders of our mortality, they aren’t just the embodiment of our fragility and finitude. 

The ashes remind us that the God who first created life out of the mud and earth, dust and ash has now taken on our flesh, our dusty finite flesh. And in that earthy flesh destined to die, God will do again what God did in the beginning. From the ashy cross and the dusty grave, God will breath life in to these earthy bodies of ours. Even from the ash that we bear tonight, even from the clumps of dirt that will be place on our graves, God will create new and resurrected life. 

And so on this first step into the season of Lent, on this night of Ashes, we also are reminded of God’s promises made to the Adam, made again in the waters of Baptism, reinforced tonight and kept at the end – Remember that you are dust and even in the dust there is life.