blog first published on July 12, 2017
On a shelf in my pastor’s study, there is a broken communion chalice. The pottery stem is still intact, but the upper portion is jagged. Some of the pieces, which made up the vessel, are mere shards. Without knowing their origin, you could speculate that they came from some ancient archeological dig. In a previous time, I used this chalice to celebrate Eucharist on many retreats. It was a gift from my wife, Katie, on the first anniversary of my ordination. A member of my internship congregation handcrafted the chalice. To say that the chalice was special to me is an understatement.
Sadly, someone knocked it over by accident. My chalice is now broken and can no longer hold the wine; I can no longer raise it in thanksgiving.
Instead of throwing it away, I have kept the chalice as a reminder that we come to the table as broken vessels in need of God’s transformation. Simple repairs and quick fixes are not likely to repair our deep brokenness. It is true for us as individuals who suffer a variety of grief and losses. It is also true for families and congregations as well.
In When Steeples Cry: Leading Congregations Through Loss and Change, Jaco Hamman writes; “Grief is the painful discrepancy between what is perceived as reality and what continues to be dreamed of as coming to reality (page 70).” Loss causes this discrepancy to happen. In the case of my chalice, as soon as it broke a gap existed between the perceived reality of a worthless broken cup and the continuing dream of using that cup for Eucharistic celebration. There is nothing that I can do to bridge that gap. Like the children’s nursery rhyme, “all the Kings horses and all the King’s men could not put Humpty Dumpty together again.” There is no glue that will allow me to piece together my broken cup. That is howloss works. When things are gone, they are gone. When we are attached to those things (and people) that we have lost, it is not easy to ‘get over’ or ‘move beyond.’ When we experience loss, it can be hard to ‘move on.’ Loss can make us stuck in the muck of reality. Emotions such as anger and resentment can wreak havoc. We find ourselves in places where we simply would not want to be, reacting in ways that we find strangely uncharacteristic of ourselves. In the face of this loss, grief will continue to the point at which we adjust our dreams for the future. The way forward requires the difficult task of attaching to something new.
The larger church is currently experiencing a loss of numbers and status. No longer are churches at the center of our culture or the lives of families. It is a reality that faces not only St. James but also neighboring Lutheran congregations within the Synod, the E.L.C.A., and mainline Christian congregations within North America and Europe. Sure, there are pockets of growth and exceptions, but in general, participation in organized religious institutions is on the decline. People are fulfilling their spiritual needs – or not – outside long-established patterns. As you might expect, some deny this reality or take pains to explain it away. Others blame the pastor or leaders.
Still, others have sunken into the muck of self-deprecation. If only we could be like one of those big and growing churches (those non-denominational mega-churches were everyone is going). It is not that simple. What is more, even these centers of prosperity gospel and entertainment-based religiosity have noticed a shift. Growth rates are not as high as once ago and pale in comparison to the largest growing segment of the US religious population – “the nones.” This group, which makes up almost 25% of the US population, believes in some god but does not attend any organized church. This segment, according to Pew Research (http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/05/13/a-closer-look-at-americas-rapidly-growing-religious-nones/) continues to grow. What is more, it is not going to the 'big-box' churches.
Unless we come to grips with the reality of loss within the church, we will waste a lot of precious time and resources trying to regain the past glory and status. We can’t try harder to do what we have done before. We can’t bring generations of wandering “nones” back through fancy gimmicks, flashy worship, and extending cafeterias of self-indulgent choices. Some are trying these methods – with some short-term limited outcomes. At the end of the day, however, Humpty Dumpty is not going to be put back together.
One of my teachers at Union Presbyterian Seminary, The Rev. Dr. Kenneth McFayden writes,” despite a desire to cling to precious memories, despite heartfelt yearnings for leadership that will restore these broken bonds and relationships of the past, we cannot reattach to what it lost. It is gone, and in our grieving, we must let it go to move into the future (Strategic Leadership for a Change; Facing Our Losses, Finding Our Future, page 6).” Trying to recapture the past (which has become unrealistically golden in the minds of some) is not going to make us unstuck or restore the loss. Remember, when we lose something, it is gone. Our chalice that once we used, is broken and all we have left is the pieces (which by the way, don’t fit together without holes and cracks.)
I had to adjust my dreams for my broken chalice. Instead of using it to celebrate communion, it now sits on a shelf as a metaphor for my pastoral ministry. I have been called to serve as a pastor in a context of change and loss. The shards of the broken chalice remind me of this on a daily basis. Just as there are many sizes and shapes of the shards, so too is the loss that the church is facing multi-layered and complex.
Following a recognition of loss, which follows cessation of blaming and spinning our wheels in the muck trying to regain an imagined past, comes the important step of attaching to a new vision of what the church is. Thankfully, our scripture becomes a wonderful resource in this work of imagination and visioning. The stories of Jesus’ meal fellowship provide insight into what Christian community can be. We can embrace a radical form of hospitality that reaches beyond social norms and expectations and reflects the dream of God as found in the words of the prophets who sought justice for all people. We can set aside judgmental Christian community in favor of a version of Christain community that embraces open welcome and centers on love. We can imagine that our purpose of being a church has more to do with what God wants for the sake of the world than it has to do with what we want as we try to shoe-horn God to fit our needs.
With the loss of what church was, there is an opportunity to become a church in a whole new way. That is an exciting proposition. Ultimately, it is an invitation from God. It is also intimately connected to the work of the Spirit to bring about reformation.
We might not be able to use our broken chalices anymore, but we still have what we need for Eucharistic celebration. The vessels might need to change, but God continues to be present to us in bread and wine. Jesus continues to live in the heart, minds, and bodies of God’s people. We have experienced loss, but we are not dead. Even if we were, we are people that believe in the resurrection. So there is hope. There is hope.
Btw: Three summers ago, I was gifted a new chalice. It was handmade by Dr. Ken Olson, a member of St. James and an excellent potter. It is a different size, shape, and color. It is beautiful and deeply appreciated. I am grateful for a new chalice and God’s continued blessings. I now have a new chalice to raise on retreats in Eucharistic joy.
PRAYER:
Gracious God, in the midst of our losses, let us experience your life-giving presence. Surround us with your life and love so that we might live in hope. Help us to attach anew as a church to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Through Christ, Amen.