I enjoy a good bit of culture every now then. I grew up being taught the importance of the arts: I was put in ballet and tap class at age three, private school in kindergarten and first grade (where we learned cursive before others our age and read Peter the Rabbit), band in elementary school (beginning with that wonderful instrument of high society – the recorder), choir in junior high, and musical theatre in high school. Did I mention I was quite an avid equestrian since before I could walk? And having spent a great deal of time with some very wealthy people in my profession over the last three years, I can’t say it wasn’t fun to go to wine receptions or stay in fancy hotels, or attend concerts in the VIP suites.
But while I have tasted the arts and culture, I have never been wealthy myself, and I have always thought of Jesus as being more at home playing a game of stickball with street kids than watching the Opera. While my early years were filled with encouragement from my elders to “move my way up in the world,” I think I agree with theorist Stuart Hall that culture can also be found in the masses. Put me with the working class and I’ll show you where the real party is.
This preference was most evident to me last Sunday when I attended a church service at a very large, wealthy mega-church near my house (probably a mistake since I was deep into Shane Claiborne’s book at the time). I really didn’t know how to find Jesus there. The organ was a few stories tall and displayed as it’s own golden work of art and architecture; the vaulted ceilings draped in tent-like fabric for acoustics, or perhaps just asceticism. The cross was lit in all her glory and splendor, and the congregation sat, with wide and comfortable distance between each person, enjoying the large orchestra and choir. Two guests had come to assist with the service, no doubt women who love the Lord deeply, but I was not quite sure what to do with their performances. One prayed for the service in what can only be compared to a rendition of Shakespeare, or perhaps a poetry reading, where every other word was drawn out and held and emphasized in an artistic display of passion. I didn’t know if I should beat along with drums or get on my knees. This woman did not just pray, she packaged the prayer and sent it up to God with a bow. Then came the soloist, who performed an operatic rendition of “It is Well with my Soul” with the orchestra. I can’t remember if that was before or after the Bach instrumental; all I know is that my soul did not feel well at all. I could barely understand the words amidst the verbratto and violins.
It was not a bad church, and I will admit I was moved during the service. But what I don’t know is whether I was moved by God or simply by the performances. Like I said, I enjoy some good culture every now and then, and I’m sure many people in that room (a predominantly older crowd) connected with God, but I just don’t know yet how to sift through all of that high society to find a Jesus who says He’s willing to get dirty with me.
If there is culture in the masses, and not just in high society, what does this mean for the organization of Church? I, like the rest of the world, am tired of a Christendom that promotes Jesus as a weekly performance, untouchable and unwilling to interact with me. It is time for the Church to truly become missional and go to those who are crying out for His love (and that will include being missional to those in high society too).
I think it’s the model He left us with. After all, as the Message puts it so eloquently, “The Word became flesh and blood…and moved into the neighborhood.” – John 1:14
Recent Comments