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?