Sunday, February 12, 2017

Worship in the Age of Facebook: Phillip Gulley

RantWoman needs this, especially the part about screwing up and trying again. The trying again is not exactly in there. RantWoman is trying to herd it into the vicinity of herself and those around her.

Worship_In_The_Facebook_Age.pdf

Worship in the Facebook Age Philip Gulley

When I was thinking of becoming a pastor I read about a man acknowledge
as one the greatest preachers of the 20th century─Harry Emerson Fosdick.
Fosdick became widely known in the 1920’s after preaching a sermon against
fundamentalism. That sermon, Shall the Fundamentalists Win?, was circulated widely, was celebrated
in some quarters and condemned in others.

The pastor of a Presbyterian church, Fosdick was ordered to
appear before the general assembly of the church so his theology could be
examined. He was defended by a young man named John Foster Dulles, whose father
was a Presbyterian pastor. Dulles would later serve as the Secretary of State
under President Eisenhower, and have an airport named in his honor. All that
came later. Meanwhile, the fundamentalists held sway within the Presbyterian church,
so in order to avoid censure, Fosdick resigned his position as pastor.

One of his admirers was John D. Rockefeller, Jr., a Baptist,
who asked Fosdick if he would be interested in pastoring the church he
attended, the Park Avenue Baptist Church in New York City. Fosdick declined,
saying he did not ‘‘want to be known as the pastor of the richest man in the
country.” To which Rockefeller replied, ‘‘Do you think that more people will
criticize you on account of my wealth than will criticize me on account of your
theology?’’ Fosdick relented, agreeing to become the pastor on the condition the
church become nondenominational, and so Riverside Church was born.

Fosdick inspired many people, including Dr. Martin Luther
King, Jr., who often cited Fosdick in his own writings and sermons. In one
sermon, Fosdick said the Christian church should “be a fountainhead of a better
social order’’ and that ‘‘any church that pretends to care for the souls of
people but is not interested in the slums that damn them, the government that
corrupts them, and the economic order that cripples them is a dry, passive
do-nothing religion in need of new blood.’’ Fosdick had a habit of putting the
hay down where the goats could get it.

I once pastored a dry, passive do-nothing Quaker meeting.
When I was hired, they said I could preach about anything I wanted, so long as
I never upset anyone, never said anything others might disagree with, and kept
my opinions to myself. Because I was young and desperate for the $50 a week the
position paid, I did my best to honor their wishes, making sure never to upset anyone,
say anything others might disagree with, and to keep my opinions to myself.
Then one Sunday I spoke about the cold fundamentalism squeezing the life out of
that meeting, and was fired. It was a passive do-nothing church, and several
years later closed its doors. It was there I learned that speaking up had a
cost, but so did silence.

Every Christian I know who takes their faith seriously has
lived in that same tension. Whether to speak up and care, at the risk of
upsetting people, or stay silent and be dry, passive do-nothings. Should you
decide to care and speak up, you will have to decide how best to care, how best
to speak. And sometimes you will get it wrong. Your passions will occasionally
override your judgement. And that’s okay, as long as it’s an anomaly and not a
habit. The other evening at Ministry and Counsel,

Chase said the two truths Quakers must balance are speaking
truth to power, while seeing what love can do. Speaking truth to power, while
never forgetting the primacy of love. That’s hard to do. Especially in this age
of social media when each of us have our very own printing press and the
freedom to say whatever we wish. We are now our own censors, and some of us do that
better than others.

But long before Facebook was invented, we Quakers had our own
version of social media, meeting for worship, which from its start insisted
pastors and priests were not the only ones with the right and responsibility to
speak. The floor would be open to all. But our speech, our worship, was always
intended to arise from the deep places of the Holy Within. Meeting for worship
was never intended to serve as a letter to the editor, or an op-ed page, or a
rehash of the daily news. It was to be Spirit-led, an insight rooted in our
intimacy with God. I was speaking with a Friend recently, a Quaker from North
Carolina, and she said, “Have you ever noticed how often today when Quakers
speak out of the silence, they preface their remarks by saying, “I heard on NPR
this week…” Now I listen to NPR. I love NPR, from Click and Clack, to Prairie
Home Companion, Fresh Air, All Things Considered, and Morning Edition. But our
worship and our words must originate from a deeper source. We have a
responsibility to drill for deeper water. Many of us are concerned about the
social and political climate in our nation, I am one of them. And I intend to resist
it with all the spiritual and intellectual vigor I can muster. Not because a Republican
holds office, but because our nation is in the grip of great fear and intolerance.
But as a Christian, as a Quaker, my resistance must be rooted in that Light and
Life Within, what the Quaker Thomas Kelly called “the inner sanctuary of the
soul.” For when our speech is rooted there, when our actions spring from there,
they will not only be true, they will be tempered and fortified by the heat of love.

The interesting thing about Fosdick is that his message
never changed. When he became the pastor of the wealthiest man in America, he
didn’t stop challenging the economic system that made a minority wealthy and a
majority poor. His message never changed. His devotion to justice never
wavered. But whenever he spoke, those who heard him not only felt challenged
and convicted, they also felt loved. So challenge and convict, but also love.

When you stand in meeting for worship to speak, challenge,
but also love. Remember we are at all different places, and are sincerely
trying our best. When you post on Facebook, challenge, but also love. When you
visit with your neighbor, challenge, but also love. When you phone or write
your senator or representative, challenge, but also love.

When you talk with your family, challenge, but also love.

Most of all, let your words, no matter where or to whom you
are speaking, let your speech arise from those deep places, those eternal
places, which are not here today and gone tomorrow, but reside in eternity,
always true and always with us.

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Interests: Digital Inclusion, Languages and language access, walkability, accessibility, disaster preparedness.
When in doubt, laugh about something!
http://rantwoman.blogspot.com
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