This morning I was reading a bit from Eugene Peterson's The Unnecessary Pastor: Rediscovering the Call. It's a book sort of co-written with Marva Dawn, an interesting and a little excentric writer who has a deep concern for the worship and spiritual life of the church. The chapter I am mucking my way through is an adaptation of a previous essay by Peterson on Paul's letter to the Romans. It's chock full of insights about Paul's relation to Scripture, mystery, language and community.
I'm not quite half-way through, but was set up by his reflections on Paul's use of Scripture--not as a text to be used but as a source to be submitted to. "A neccesary pastor" he writes, "seks to control scripture, wilding it for his or her own ends. An unnecessary pastor find a home and a country within Scriptures and is shaped by them." It's a terrific thought as I find myself dipping deep into Philippians for an adult Bible study at Lakeside.
But that was only the toss of the ball leading to a service ace for Peterson as he turned to mystery. His point is that modern rational minds think of mystery as a riddle to be solved--that the greatest human response to mystery is to dissolve it. But Peterson wants us to re-think it all: mystery not as the darkness to be cast out, but as a light to be entered. Here's the sentence (slightly edited!):
In the presence of mystery "we are not in a position to control anything, to predict of manage, to pose as aouthorities, to as we say, 'master the subject.' But it does leave much room for worship, for there is no worship where there is no mystery."
There is no worship where there is no mystery! Think about how much the trends of worship are precisely to reduce and eliminate mystery--to make the "Christian life" accessible. Preaching should be practical, apply to our daily lives, transparent. Music should be happy and light and hummable. But of course it's true that if there is not some sort of mystery at the middle of it all, whatever it is that we are doing is not worship at all, but management, control, "mastering" in Peterson's words. I felt it last week as I tried to preach on that wild and wooly part of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus admonishes his listeners to "be perfect." And every bone in my body was screaming to find some way to figure it out--"dumb it down" in Marva Dawn's words.
Think of the classic examples of worship: Isaiah in the Temple, the shepherds at the stable, or for that matter Peter and James and John at Jesus' feet at the Transfiguration. We're all Peter, wanting to build tents to contain the moment, yet the truly human response is to fall on your knees and tremble.
When's the last time you trembled in church--went weak at the knees and felt your eyes get moist? It does happen some times, doesn't it? For me it so often as to do with music. "Will you come and follow me?" "Lord, you have come to the lakeshore..." "Precious Lord, take my hand...." Sometimes it is in prayer, when I just feel myself lifted up in a way that turns me. I wonder what would happen if we started each Sunday morning, not asking "I wonder what I will learn that I can take home and apply," but "just for a moment, Lord, let me stand in the mystery of your presence"?
There is no worship where there is no mystery. And likewise, when all the mystery has been drained and tamed, there's very little room for worship.
