Sermon: Singing the Commandments, Exodus 20 & Romans 6
photo by chapstickaddict
click above for audio
Whew, definitely not sure about this one, but I got more positive comments than usual (which probably just means people are happy to see me go next week;) ) Several interesting homiletical issues in the sermon. First, it deals with two texts which I always find so tricky because it’s easy to shortchange each or have them talk to each other in ways either too simple or too fake. Second, it’s a teaching sermon rather than a “go do this” sermon. The topic makes it such, but so also the theological content with which I bet most are unfamiliar. Apparently the ten commandments are rarely discussed at St. C, if at all. Third, one must be careful when dealing with OT Law and NT Gospel and not pulling the age-old heresy of a split between the God of the OT and Christ of the NT. Finally, it’s a Lutheran sermon format with a Presbyterian third use of the law ending (ok, I’m a huge nerd). The form is: 1) Law, 2) Gospel, 3) Law revisited in light of Gospel to find that the Law really is Gospel to begin with–and that’d be Calvin’s third and and primary use of the law. Whew…and it has jokes too:) and somebody yelled out when I mentioned Bush, hilarious.
Ayr: St. Columba Church
11:15 am Worship Service
Adam J. Copeland
Singing the Commandments
Exodus 20:1-17, Romans 6:1-11
After going-on ten months in Scotland, it’s an interesting practice to reflect back on life in the US. As happens when living abroad, my perspective of my own country has significantly changed.
For example, I will never look at an American nicely written, clearly displayed street sign the same way again. After ten months of driving all over Ayr, passing street after street, turning around, and then again, trying to find a street sign that might be a foot off the ground on a wall, or thirty feet up on a house, or hiding behind an overgrown hedge, or just not there at all, I have gained a new appreciation for America’s street signs and simple street numbering system.
I’ll miss many Scottish things, of course, like fish and chips, constant cups of tea, Scottish cheese (which I think is completely under-appreciated), folks actually driving the speed limit (thanks to speed cameras, mind you), fantastic golf courses, having four seasons in a day–ok, I won’t miss that, but Scotland’s weather does instill a certain go-with-the-flow approach to Scottish culture which I will miss. … Continue Reading
To the Glory of God, sermon on Acts 2:1-21
for audio, click above
Ayr: St. Columba Church
Pentecost
Acts 2:1-21, 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
To the Glory of God
I have a friend who finds the signs and plaques of the presbyterian church problematic. At my presbyterian seminary in Atlanta, there’s a beautiful quadrangle with a lush field in the center. Paths run between the four buildings–administration, classrooms, library, and refectory–but not over the central grassy area students just call “the quad.” And at the edge of the quad, a brass plaque reads, “The Oldenberg Quadrangle, dedicated to the glory of God in gratitude for the service of Douglas Oldenberg, President of Columbia Theological Seminary, 1987-2000.”
And if you’re standing above the plaque and look around, you’ll see many wooden benches lining the paths. On each bench is another plaque bearing the name of a generous donor to the work of the seminary and at the top of each plaque, above the name and the date, they all say, “To the glory of God.”
To this friend of mine, these plaques seem a bit showy, maybe over the top, and he questions the authenticity of the words, “To the glory of God.” He thinks writing “To the glory of God” toots one’s own horn rather than God’s.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just too presbyterian, or not cynical enough, but most of me wants to believe folk really are giving To the Glory of God. We at St. Columba know this well, look on the plaques below the stained glass windows when you leave. Or choir, look at the two plaques on the organ. At the top of each, in bold script, you’ll read, “To the glory of God.”
I’m not certain where the phrase originated, but it echoes the famous first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, adopted by the Scottish General Assembly in 1647. “What is our chief end?” the first question asks, “To give glory to God, and enjoy God forever.”
Now Peter, in the book of Acts, was around long before Columbia Seminary existed, years before the church in Scotland, but Peter, in today’s reading, lives and breathes the mantra “To the glory of God.” … Continue Reading
Every evening this week…
How does my Church of Scotland congregation do Holy Week? Thanks for asking, here’s how.
As seems to be a fairly common tradition in Scotland, my congregation holds worship services every night of Holy Week except Saturday. I can’t track down when this tradition began, but folks tell me it’s happened for years (like 50+).
Every night, Monday through Friday, 7:30 pm service. Each service is fairly simple and very similar to the other evenings except for Thursday’s service which includes communion. St. Columba teams with a church in a neighboring town for these services, so the preaching load is shared among several ministers.
After only one service, I’m of two minds regarding the practice of having a hour-long service every single day of Holy Week. On the one hand, it recognizes the importance of Holy Week in the Christian calendar, and those who attend can mark Jesus’ journey to the cross. It’s easy to jump from Palm Sunday to Easter without remembering what happened in between.
On the other hand, I’m aware of some practical issues. I realize efficiency can be made into an idol, but consider a solo minister preparing five sermons the week before Easter Sunday, and for–if we’re honest–services attended by a relatively few number of people. It’s difficult enough to find the time for one quality sermon a week. Thankfully, due to our partnership with another church and strategic use of guest preachers, our week won’t be too harsh. It’s worth considering, though.
Also, I wonder what having daily services attended by a very few does to the group dynamics of a congregation. What do who can only attend one service think of the folk with lighter evening work schedules? Do those who attend every night feel somehow more holy or more a part of the congregation?
Here’s my big question, though. Presuming one does not expect many members to attend all five Holy Week services, as busy lives of work and service call folks in many other directions, what does the church say when it holds services expected to be poorly attended?
Yes, the number of those attending corporate worship should not be a congregation’s primary concern–certainly quality not quantity is important–but musn’t quality be affected at some point? I mean, a church could hold a service every single day, and probably at least one person would come to most services. Most congregations don’t hold daily services, though, so a decision is being made somewhere that holds up other concerns over daily corporate worship attended by a very few.
Perhaps another way, during Holy Week, is for congregations to enable worship in homes, with families or small groups. Think about a family after supper reading a Holy Week lectionary passage, praying, and singing a simple hymn together. That practice might be much better–and much more realistic–than figuring out how to feed the kids, pick them up from football, facilitate homework, and get them to shower somehow around the 7:30 service.
Or I know of an Atlanta congregation that facilitates Maundy Thursday footwashing services in a number of homes throughout the area so member can take part in the intimate and–for some–uncomfortable service in a smaller informal setting after a pot luck.
What are your Holy Week traditions or ideas, worship or otherwise?
Image by Fernando Rossi
Visiting Elders and Impossible Minister Ratios: Differences of the Scottish and American Church
My article for the church magazine follows. I tried my best to write a balanced perspective, both pushing a bit on the Church of Scotland and celebrating their many fine aspects. If I’m brave, I’ll write more detailed reflections in the future on each of the article’s three points. An outsider coming in and telling you all your faults is no fun–and not ministry–so one must tread carefully, with humility, always remembering the log in one’s own eye.
February Magazine Article
Mrs. Kelley, my high school Latin teacher loved teaching us common English sayings in Latin, I think to show that the Latin language wasn’t quite dead yet. I still remember a few of those sayings: Veritos vos liberabit is from John 8:32, “The truth shall set you free.” Cave canum means “Beware of the dog.” And tempus fugit translates to “Time flies.”
My time at St. Columba so far has allowed me to consider all these phrases. Certainly, the Bible has played a large role, including Jesus’ teachings about truth. Far too many pastoral visits have me dodging a dog–maybe its their instinctual response to another wearing a dog collar. And my time at St. Columba has surely flown by.
Though few of you have asked me anything about my Latin language experience–thank goodness, it’s all a blur–many have asked about my perceptions of the differences in the Church of Scotland and the American Presbyterian church. So I shall take this brief column to note what strike me as the most notable differences. Please take these thoughts in the open and reflective spirit in which they are given. Indeed, neither the Church of Scotland nor the American Presbyterian church has everything figured out, and we all would do well to consider how the Spirit is moving in our own context and beyond.
First, one major difference between our denominations is the duties of elders. In American Presbyterian churches, elders are not assigned a district and therefore do not regularly visit members. Conscientious St. Columba elders will visit those in their district at least quarterly to drop by communion cards, and perhaps a few more times for other purposes. At home, the average size of church sessions is perhaps 20-30 elders, and elders only sit on the session for a few years. They are still charged will similar tasks–to nurture the faith and life of their congregation, to visit, comfort, and support their community of faith–but the American Presbyterian church lacks a tradition of regular visitation.
Second, perhaps the most significant difference in our denominations is the ratio of ministers to members. An American Presbyterian church of similar membership to St. Columba (1400 members) would likely have about five ministers on staff and several other full-time employees. I suppose this drastic difference is mainly due to differences in financial support, but is cultural as well. Americans expect “programs” from their church–organized mission trips, education and evening activities for young people, weekly meals and classes for adults, Sunday school for all ages. Church members in Scotland tend not to carry such expectations. Perhaps, too, one consequence of this difference in ministers to member ratio is the importance of Scottish members helping to support the work of the church as there are fewer full-time staff members.
Third, another striking difference is the Church of Scotland’s parish structure. Many Church of Scotland ministers spend a significant amount of time conducting funerals for those within the bounds of the parish but with no clear connection to the particular kirk. Also, ministers in Scotland have certain duties in the schools. In the States, Presbyterian ministers seldom conduct funerals for those unconnected to a particular church, and the idea of a minister teaching in a school is mind-boggling, so strong is our cultural prescription for “the separation of church and state.” So Scottish ministers have more clear and consistent contact with a specific geographical area while American ministers are more like free-range meat, working over a fairly large area.
I could go on, as I’m fascinated by these differences and their corollaries. Do American churches rely too much on ministers? In America, what does it say when someone moving to a new town may not find a Presbyterian church within fifty miles? Should the Church of Scotland–as was suggested in February’s edition of Life and Work–consider steps to train elders to conduct parish funerals? Does the American penchant for church programs overshadow more pressing needs outwith the church? Should any Church of Scotland congregation, or American congregation for that matter, have multiple ministers while rural parishes struggle to call even one?
These, and many others, are the questions the Scottish and American Presbyterian churches face. I pray that we may all move forward, seeking Christ’s will, being guided by the Holy Spirit, and praising God in all we say and do. Or as Mrs. Kelley would say, Ad maiorem dei gloriam, “For the greater glory of God.”
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