From sublime to banal. The whiplash that is General
Conference was in full effect today.
Worship was transcendent. It was intimate and reflective,
with capacious silences interspersed with scripture, liturgy, and prayer. I don’t
know how the worship design team and the worship leaders made it possible for
several thousand people to feel a personal connection to the worship
experience, but they did. Sublime.
And then, an episcopal address from Bishop Greg Palmer. What
can I possibly say? He said some things!
Things like, “there is
grave danger in being overly self-reliant. We need to cultivate and practice a
renewed God reliance. We have been so adequate, so able, so competent, and so
successful for so long it may well be that we have only given lip service to
trusting in the Lord. We didn’t mean to. It is a hazard that comes with the territory.”
He said things like, “I
refuse to give in to discouragement and despair because the work of becoming
the church we can be, of truly embodying beloved community is hard.”
He spoke profound truth. Sublime truth. Transcendent truth. I
am humbled to think that this man’s hands were on my head, along with my
Grandfather’s, my Father’s, Rev. Sarah Evans’ and Rev. Steve Campbell’s, as I was
ordained in 2007 by Bishop Robert Schnase.
And then there is the ordinary sublime stuff. The stuff that
is so hard to describe. It happens in between, in the hallways, in the passing
conversations. There are smiles and laughter. There are handshakes and hugs.
There are friends introducing friends. Strangers connected
by our common Methodist identity. There is an energy present that brings tears
to my eyes. Literally. It is so, so good to be in close proximity to so many
amazing people, sharing the same space, breathing the same air, singing the
same songs together.
The best single word I can come up with is simply “sublime.”
And yet, there is the other stuff. Which, if you pinned me
down on a single word, I would only be able to describe as “banal.” Vapid.
Sound and fury, signifying nothing.
It is “Robert’s Rules of Order” run amok. We as a body seem
to know more about the minutiae of parliamentary procedure than we do about
making disciples of Jesus Christ, much less changing the world.
All due respect, the church is called to a higher standard
than Robert’s Rules of Order.
I get it. We have to have some system by which to operate. I
understand. We need some rules. Right.
But is this as good as we can do? Frankly, there is no room
for trust in Robert’s Rules. Robert’s Rules were not written within a framework
of trust and grace and love. In fact, Robert’s Rules were written to eliminate
any need for trust whatsoever.
So we deliberate as a body, hardly able to agree about how
it is we are going to be talking about the things we are supposed to be talking
about, much less actually talking about those things. And sincere,
well-intentioned people come to the microphones to say things that are not in
the slightest bit helpful to the conversation. I would estimate that we could
have gotten by, accomplished the same results, with less than one-third of the
speeches from the floor that we had this morning.
It is banal. Utterly banal.
And the thing is, there is no in between. General Conference
is either sublime or banal, never just kind of meh. And often times the sublime
and the banal reside within moments of one another. Whiplash! It’s General
Conference whiplash.
Those who have been to several of these things may be used
to it by now, but since it’s my first one, I’m not. I have whiplash, and I
think I need a massage.
3 comments:
Just be careful where you go for the massage. That term can have different meanings at different establishments, and we're way to far along in the appointment process this year to have a scandal.
Our church became a consensus organization years ago. The primary impetus was a desire to operate out of a sense of mutual trust. Kudos, Andy, for hoping for the same in wider church decision-making. I believe you could be the one to usher that change. Looks like it won't be this year, but we are a peiple of hope.
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