The Wanderer for Wonderwhat (7)
(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17)
Groping through the past
Sitting on the edge of a dock at the marina, the Wanderer tried to write things down. It was hard going. Trying to compress thoughts into manageable pieces that could be expressed intelligibly was a lot of work. Especially when he wasn’t even sure what it was he was trying to say. He began filling pages with statements and questions.
In my search, I’m finding very little in church as we know it that is relevant to my everyday life and culture.
Shouldn’t the church be able to exist in any culture or generation, and adapt to the felt needs?
Church subculture – language, dress, worldview. The idea comes across that if the world wants help, they have to have their needs prescribed to them and conform to the subculture. Shouldn’t the church be blended into the present culture, addressing felt need?
Where does a creed end, and groupthink begin?
But all these random thoughts were yielding no answers, and his fear that he would turn into a bitter, anti-church agitator was growing more and more real.
The Wanderer walked from the marina down to the library. He meandered through different sections, until landing in the magazine room. He sat down in a well-worn, yellow chair that bore the design tastes of the sixties in its shape. His eyes scanned the magazines on the metal shelf.
His gaze fell on the cover of Christian History magazine, which he thought was an odd title for a library to hold. Then he took in the cover story: “Worship in the Early Church”
With a renewed sense of wonder, he got up and took the magazine back to his chair. He read it from cover to cover. Reaching into his pocket to retrieve his notebook, he went back through the magazine and wrote down the names and titles that had been quoted in various articles.
Then, he went to the center of the magazine, and copied word for word an excerpt that had been highlighted from Justin Martyr’s writings. It read:
“…And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who provides for the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers staying among us; and in a word, is the protector of all who are in need.
But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead. For He was crucified on the day before that of Saturn (Saturday); and on the day after that of Saturn, which is the day of the Sun, having appeared to His apostles and disciples, He taught them these things, which we have submitted to you also for your consideration.”
The Wanderer read and re-read the excerpt. By the fourth time through, the tears began to flow. Not just a trickle down his cheek, but a gushing torrent of emotion that he just couldn’t hide.
He looked up through bleary eyes to see an older gentleman watching him. The Wanderer tried his best to salvage a little dignity, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and sniffing back the wetness from his nose.
The man was still watching him, a look of concern on his face.
The Wanderer looked back at him, and realized he needed to offer some sort of explanation. He held up the magazine, shrugged, pleaded with his face and said, “It’s just so simple.”
And again, the urge to weep swept over him, and he knew he had to leave.
The Wanderer spent the next few months buried in books as he began his journey into the past. He read the Shepherd of Hermes; he read all of Justin Martyr’s 1st and 2nd apologies. He read The Octavius of Minucius Felix, Polycarp and Ignatius and so many others. Yet it was the discovery of the Didache that stirred him again, the way he had been stirred at the library.
Again, it was simplicity that drew him in.
He began to feel he was nearing the heart.
Groping through the past
Sitting on the edge of a dock at the marina, the Wanderer tried to write things down. It was hard going. Trying to compress thoughts into manageable pieces that could be expressed intelligibly was a lot of work. Especially when he wasn’t even sure what it was he was trying to say. He began filling pages with statements and questions.
In my search, I’m finding very little in church as we know it that is relevant to my everyday life and culture.
Shouldn’t the church be able to exist in any culture or generation, and adapt to the felt needs?
Church subculture – language, dress, worldview. The idea comes across that if the world wants help, they have to have their needs prescribed to them and conform to the subculture. Shouldn’t the church be blended into the present culture, addressing felt need?
Where does a creed end, and groupthink begin?
But all these random thoughts were yielding no answers, and his fear that he would turn into a bitter, anti-church agitator was growing more and more real.
The Wanderer walked from the marina down to the library. He meandered through different sections, until landing in the magazine room. He sat down in a well-worn, yellow chair that bore the design tastes of the sixties in its shape. His eyes scanned the magazines on the metal shelf.
His gaze fell on the cover of Christian History magazine, which he thought was an odd title for a library to hold. Then he took in the cover story: “Worship in the Early Church”
With a renewed sense of wonder, he got up and took the magazine back to his chair. He read it from cover to cover. Reaching into his pocket to retrieve his notebook, he went back through the magazine and wrote down the names and titles that had been quoted in various articles.
Then, he went to the center of the magazine, and copied word for word an excerpt that had been highlighted from Justin Martyr’s writings. It read:
“…And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who provides for the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers staying among us; and in a word, is the protector of all who are in need.
But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead. For He was crucified on the day before that of Saturn (Saturday); and on the day after that of Saturn, which is the day of the Sun, having appeared to His apostles and disciples, He taught them these things, which we have submitted to you also for your consideration.”
The Wanderer read and re-read the excerpt. By the fourth time through, the tears began to flow. Not just a trickle down his cheek, but a gushing torrent of emotion that he just couldn’t hide.
He looked up through bleary eyes to see an older gentleman watching him. The Wanderer tried his best to salvage a little dignity, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and sniffing back the wetness from his nose.
The man was still watching him, a look of concern on his face.
The Wanderer looked back at him, and realized he needed to offer some sort of explanation. He held up the magazine, shrugged, pleaded with his face and said, “It’s just so simple.”
And again, the urge to weep swept over him, and he knew he had to leave.
The Wanderer spent the next few months buried in books as he began his journey into the past. He read the Shepherd of Hermes; he read all of Justin Martyr’s 1st and 2nd apologies. He read The Octavius of Minucius Felix, Polycarp and Ignatius and so many others. Yet it was the discovery of the Didache that stirred him again, the way he had been stirred at the library.
Again, it was simplicity that drew him in.
He began to feel he was nearing the heart.
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