Active Participation

If you grew up in another religious tradition, can you remember the first time you worshipped in an Episcopal church? Or, if you have been an Episcopalian all your life, think about those times when you have gone to church in another denomination. Have you noticed that what we do on a Sunday morning is different from what other Christians do? Sometimes people describe what we do in church as “liturgical calisthenics,” by which I think they mean that we expend a comparatively large amount of energy standing, sitting, kneeling, bowing, and crossing ourselves. While there are a few traditions that are even more physically engaging than ours, our liturgy is among the most active that I have experienced. I wonder, however, whether that remains true during this time of pandemic, when most of us watch a livestream of the service while at home. 

In her pastoral conversations with parishioners, Suzanne has heard several accounts of people who find our livestream worship to be flat, empty, and unsatisfying. These are not people who never come to church and who are unfamiliar with the complexities of our worship. These are heart and soul Episcopalians who normally would never miss a Sunday, yet this time of being apart has become a spiritual desert when, despite the parish’s regular online offerings, they feel cut off from their church. In response, Suzanne has gently asked whether they have tried doing more than just sitting and watching the services. She has suggested that, in order for worship to feel complete, those of us who are accustomed to engaging the liturgy with our whole selves need to do just that.

Worship, as we understand it, is not something to be viewed but to be offered. God may not care whether we stand or kneel or sing, but doing those things, even at our kitchen table or on the living room sofa, brings our hearts and minds and souls into God’s divine presence in a fuller way than simply watching and listening as a passive observer. At its core, worship is not about receiving something. It is about giving—giving honor and glory and thanksgiving and praise to our loving God. For many of us, it is that holiness of worship—the fullness of what we collectively offer to God in church—that has drawn us to the Episcopal tradition. When we do that, of course, we end up receiving even more than we have offered, but, as long as we are approaching worship as a spectator and not as a participant, those benefits remain missing.

The space itself helps, too. There is something sacred about our church building, and almost all of us lament our physical separation from it. When we walk inside the church door, our voices instinctively become more hushed, and our movements become more deliberate. Although we might need to get up from our pew in case of an unexpected emergency, very few of us would casually walk in and out of the church during a service. Can we say the same thing about our online experience—one that we have the power to pause and resume whenever it suits us? Are we setting aside the time and space we would normally reserve for uninterrupted, undistracted worship, or are we approaching church as if it were something we can fit into whatever else is going on in our lives?

Although I feel the grief of separation from our congregation every single day, I have a habit of forgetting what it feels like to be separated from the church building and from the worship that takes place inside. Almost every Sunday, I have the privilege of coming to church and worshipping in person. These last two weeks, though, I was away, and, as I listened to the service online, I felt both a sadness from being apart and a renewed gratitude for the faithful worship that continues even when we cannot come together. I tried my best to follow along— saying the prayers and the creed and singing the hymns and canticles—but I must admit that juggling my smart phone and an online bulletin made that difficult. I sort of mumbled my way through a hymn I could not fully remember and eventually started humming along with the familiar tune when the words completely failed me. It was not perfect, but it was worship—a chance for my family and me to come together with our congregation and give a little bit of ourselves back to God.

If you have not tried our livestream worship, I hope you will. If you have not tried it in a while, please come back. We have simplified things to make it easier for everyone to participate. If you have been watching but feel like something has been missing, try standing up and even singing loud enough for those around you to hear. As Episcopalians, we do not worship God by sitting and absorbing all that is being spoken at us. We worship by coming into God’s presence and bringing our whole selves with us. Worship like that is not only what we do but who we are. If you have missed your connection with church, try giving a little more of yourself to what takes place virtually on Sunday mornings and see whether that draws you back in.

Yours Faithfully,

Evan