Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. -- Mark Twain
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, let's write up some of the jumble. Those looking for clarity, structure or a point should refer to the above quotation.
So a couple weeks ago I wrote an impassioned comment about the importance of liturgy, of saying prayers that may not represent what's in your heart, but represent what SHOULD be in your heart, and over time they start to sink in and shape you. I do believe that's true. I also believe it's true that putting up a false front in prayer is a really bad idea and one that I fall into far too often. (Note to self: Trying to pull the wool over the eyes of an omniscient being? Not the all-time brightest of ideas.)
And I recently heard about an English college chaplain in the 1960s who was known for prayers like these:
"Hello, it is me, your old friend and your old enemy, your loving friend who often neglects you, your complicated friend, your utterly perplexed and decidedly resentful friend, partly loving, partly hating, partly not caring. It is me."
"O God, I am hellishly angry; I think so-and-so is a swine; I am tortured by worry about this or that; I am pretty certain that I have missed my chances in life; this or that has left me feeling terribly depressed. But nonetheless here I am like this, feeling both bloody and bloody-minded, and I am going to stay here for ten minutes. You are most unlikely to give me anything. I know that. But I am going to stay for the ten minutes nonetheless."
Something in those seems so amazingly true and right. So how do I reconcile that with the idea that following established prayer -- saying what we should be thinking and feeling even if it's the farthest thing in the world from where we are right now -- shapes us into eventually becoming that person? I have no idea. I want them both, and I don't think they fit.
I had a discussion this weekend with an old friend about the idea of getting dressed up for church. He is deeply opposed to the idea. If there's any place where we should come as we are -- set aside pretense and be naked (figuratively!) -- shouldn't that be church? Absolutely. But also, dress signifies "This is important and I take this seriously." I dress differently to go out on a date than I do to scrub out the bathtub. If I go out to dinner and look like a slob, that's saying "This is not important to me. You are not important to me." Is that what I want to be saying to God? Hmmm ... that's another good point. Which totally contradicts the first very good point. Now what?
Three weeks in, I have found Leviticus to be overwhelmingly on the "pray the right way and eventually you'll mean it/make yourself look all pretty for church" end of things. I seem to be overwhelmed with external details and am finding it far too easy to overlook justice and mercy because I only have so much ethical/religious energy and I'm spending so much on jumping through hoops. (Or reducing justice and mercy to more hoops -- tithing because Section IV (A)(ii)(b) Paragraph 7 says you should tithe can crush out an impulse to share your resources out of compassion, love, and gratitude for God's gifts to you. This hardly seems like a step in the right direction.) Now, to the extent that we're talking about developing habits that in time shape who you become, that process takes a lot longer than a month. If this month leaves me cold, that may not be a reason to discard the whole system. It may be the necessary first step in a process.
Still. It's not feeling like a difficult first step in a long and difficult but ultimately very good process. It feels like moving in the wrong direction. And that's just disturbing on a countless number of levels.
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2 comments:
As a fellow Levite, I think it definitely takes more than a month to really have all of this sink in the way it's supposed to. Honestly, it's only now that I'm just barely starting to appreciate the Law as a gift, as Andrew was saying tonight, instead of some horrible burden. And what, we have 8 days left?
I think I'd have to really keep this up - in some form, maybe not in everything I've tried this month - but I think that it would become something really enjoyable and meaningful in the process. I just have to get past the part where I'm complaining and grudging because it's such a hard process. It's like boot camp; you get broken down, but then you appreciate it later. (Or something ...)
I don't want to take up your whole blog comments section with my thoughts, so I'll just also mention that I appreciated your reflection on liturgy and dressing up. I love liturgy, as it turns out, but you have to really think about what you're saying and get into the words, otherwise it's sound and fury signifying nothing.
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