This is a post about trusting Christ.
It is just a reminder, as I know you know this.
But you know darlings, we forget.
We work so hard to prepare, prepare, think the right thoughts, pray the right prayers, dress in the right clothes, eat the right breakfast (you do, right?), do the right things, feel the right feelings. And we forget that Christ promised to be there with us whenever we gather in his name. Even a puny little gathering, the size gathering that makes your bishop make tsking noises and talk about closing your church. The size gathering that, if you had imagined yourself preaching or presiding in front of a large enough group that you could just be one among many, bringing the Word, might cause you to gulp in a panic and wonder if you should chuck evereything you prepared and just be “real.”
I advise against it.
Give what you prepared to even the tiniest of gatherings. Just scale it appropriately and adjust as necessary.
Let me give you two examples.
1. A few years ago we had a blizzard. I live close enough to the church that I knew I could get there (once or twice I have literally been snowed into the parsonage and couldn’t get out, but those aren’t typical occasions) and I knew that a particularly loyal member of our ministry staff would be there. If it was just the two of us, we could chat and hang out in silence in prayer or whatever. But as it turned out, one worshiper did come, slogging through the drifts to join us. A newcomer. I stood on the floor in front of the pulpit and they sat in the pews, the two men, and we went through a very simple liturgy. I don’t remember if I robed, but … no, I don’t remember. I don’t think we sang a hymn but we might have. I said that I had prepared a sermon and would like to share it if they’d like to hear it. They kindly said they would. And so I gave the sermon from the floor, reading off my manuscript and delivering it in a relaxed way, but still delivering it for them with care and intentionality.
Of course I was nervous and self-conscious. But in the doing of the thing, I realized that if I had tried to outline the sermon extemporaneously, or done something else entirely it would have felt extremely strange and put the emphasis on me instead of allowing them to get lost in their own thoughts and have their own worship experience.
I gave a benediction and extinguished the candle and we had a nice visit and then walked home to our various dwelling places. The newcomer came back, and stayed, and we fondly remember that first meeting.
2. I was to do a commital of ashes in our Memorial Garden one morning. I prepared the service, personalizing it to the occasion as we always do in my tradition, and arrived at church. To my surprise, only one member of the family was there, the son of the two people whose ashes we would inter. Now, I must be honest and tell you that I know this man well and consider him a dear friend, and so there was a comfort level between us that wouldn’t have existed with another person, so that helped.
Again, I opened my Kindle and read the service just as I would have for a bigger gathering, but adjusting my delivery to make it more intimate, and standing right next to the other “one” gathered in the Spirit of love. I took his hand for the benediction, and it was very natural and very comfortable. Because I did not try to change the plan, adjust the short liturgy to make it less formal, or do anything else to make the occasion more conversation and casual, the man who had come to do the hard job of laying his parents in their final resting place was allowed to enter into the occasion as a worshiper and into the interior place of his own emotions and memories.
Do you see what I’m getting at here? If we are tempted to, say, look the one other person in the eye as we talk through a worship service, sermon or liturgy because they are the only one there (or only two people there), we turn the worship of God into a social occasion between two people. Maybe you already know this. But in my Unitarian Universalist tradition, where we are not always sure what theology the worshipers hold (if, in fact, any), and do not always agree on the presence of God (let alone Christ), this issue can be confusing for pastors.
If you walk into a sanctuary or cemetery to do honors and are surprised to find one or two other people present, take a moment to compose yourself. Do a quick mental audit of the service: are there any points at which the language assumes a large gathering? Prepare to adjust. Are there any actions that seem unreasonable to ask of one or two people (several hymns, for instance)? Adjust accordingly, and be prepared to be a confident and comfortable hymn leader. If you are not a singer, kindly ask the others if one of them might choose a starting note. Remember that the two or three of you represent a much larger communion of saints both here and gone who are present in spirit, and you might even say words to that effect.
NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER apologize for, make jokes about, or act embarrassed about the number of people gathered in the name of God. Be grateful for the privilege of being able to serve those people at that moment, give thanks for the chance to worship together, and remember the one who promised that he would be there with you no matter how small your gathering is. He IS there, and ain’t that good news?
A wonderful reminder.
Excellent words of wisdom. Thank you.
True enough. And helpful for me in my temptation to mope about a “light” Sunday. I have, at least, learned not to mope aloud.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder! I’ve really come to appreciate the intimacy of a small group gathered for prayer over the past few months and this post was a lovely reminder of that.
I particularly love your last paragraph: “NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER apologize for, make jokes about, or act embarrassed about the number of people gathered in the name of God. Be grateful for the privilege of being able to serve those people at that moment, give thanks for the chance to worship together, and remember the one who promised that he would be there with you no matter how small your gathering is. He IS there, and ain’t that good news?”
Peace!
Wow, THANK YOU. This is so important, so helpful, so true.
“If we are tempted to, say, look the one other person in the eye as we talk through a worship service, sermon or liturgy because they are the only one there (or only two people there), we turn the worship of God into a social occasion between two people.”
I am not sure what you mean here. [Okay, well let me try to explain. You know how, if you’re in a cabaret and there’s a singer singing and they’re just doing their art form and it’s wonderful and you get lost in the music and their interpretation of it? And then you know how you’re in a nightclub or cabaret and there’s a singer who’s making eye contact and being all smarmy and trying to “sell” you the song by singing right to you, and you feel all self-conscious, like you want to hear the music but you don’t want the singer, like, LOOKING at you the whole time because it’s distracting and cheezy? That’s sort of what I was thinking of when I wrote that. There’s this kind of privacy that occurs in our souls when we’re together for worship, where we’re together but yet all having intense interior experiences. I mean, we would certainly hope that is happening for most worshipers, right? So if there’s just one other person there, it is tempting to just talk to them, as though the worship experience is a casual conversation between two people. But when we’re presiding as clergy, it shouldn’t be. We are still taking on a priestly role, which means that there needs to be that sense of formality and respect for the privacy of the other person. Part of that, for me, means not to try to make sustained eye contact as I would during a conversation. Because when I do that, they’re forced by social expectation to engage with me rather than with God. Does that help? – PB]
So helpful. Such a good reminder. I serve a small-ish church, and at times I’ve gone more off the cuff. I almost always regret it.
I love what you said about preserving that “worship distance” so people can encounter Christ.
A good reminder–and I need one now and then–that it isn’t, and shouldn’t ever be, about me.
It’s about Jesus. And about all of us worshiping him together, whether it’s a few of us or a thousand.
Amen! I learned this in my first pastoral charge when during a summer service in one of my three churches, only one person showed up. He was my most faithful member (in attendance) and said to me “Let’s worship and be a witness to the community that even when only one person shows up, we do not neglect to praise God”. I did like you did and simplified the service a bit, however, I did have to use the pulpit because that’s where the mic was (and to my frustration, was very securely attached) and this man was very hard of hearing… but it worked. We did sing one hymn – the pianist had come too and both this man and I loved to sing… it was a really neat service.
Thank you for this loving reminder.
Perfect. Thank you for the affirmation of what many of us do, week in and week out.
May I have your permission to include this essay (with credit, of course) in my small-church-leadership syllabus?
[How nice! Of course you may. Credit it to Victoria Weinstein. I’m not always sure if people know my real name! – PB/VW]
My uncle’s memorial service was very small -the service was planned by myself and my father-but the most beautiful moment that would have been lost with more people in the church was hearing my brother and sister harmonize with me while singing the Celtic Alleluia. It’s a moment my mother would have loved.
I’m thinking one of the things to do is cut down any congregational singing. Probably fewer verses (1?) of hymns – perhaps reading the other verses together aloud. For choice, I would not preach from the lectern and would abandon or simplify a handful of other elements.
I’m one of those Unitarians worshippers who does not really have a theology. But if I can find value in worshipping in a crowd, I can find value in worshipping in a tiny gathering.
Thank you so very much for these beautiful words which are so helpful.
Amen.
What you don’t mention is that someone may walk in late and they will feel more comfortable if there is a presentation instead of a conversation. [I didn’t think of that. Good point! – PB]
Great points, PeaceBang, preach it! I go to a service that varies from about 18 to about 8 people but we always have a ‘proper’ service with all the bells and whistles and thankfully no-one comments on the numbers. It’s just nice to get together with however many and worship God.
What an appropriate reflection on the weekend that the walk to Emmaus is the lectionery reading!
I offer a healing prayer service every other month and many months there is only one person there. but it is seldom the same person and I know that it is someone who really needs/wants to be there.
Thank you for the affirmation and the reminder. Yesterday I filled in for a colleage who is on sabbatical at a nursing home in the city. There was, at first, one lady who had come for worship, lovingly setting out the chairs, the service leaflet and the hymn books. We chatted for a couple of minutes and then I asked if she was ready to start. She was slightly abashed at their being “only two” of us…but I assured her, we would have church.
As we began the first hymn there were two other ladies who came and joined us, so we stopped singing, got everyone settled, put walkers within easy reach etc., and started again.
The service was brief, then we chatted over coffee and cookies, with two of the three ladies, and talking about their faith with me…a TOTAL stranger…I was elated at being in their presence, and feeling the Holy Spirit surround us all.
Indeed, where two or three are gathered together…there will be church!
[“I assured her that we would have church.” YES, YES YES! – PB]
Amen.
this made me cry. thank you…
[Here’s a tissue, sweetheart. – PB]