Remembering at Table

We remember.

“We remember your Word dwelling among us….may this word take flesh in us” (Evangelical Lutheran Worship, Thanksgiving at the Table III)

I am part of a church community that remembers. Sunday after Sunday, I gather with others to remember who and whose we are. In the words of Don Saliers, “…all gatherings for worship must enable us to remember the world before God” (Worship and Spirituality, 71). Whether it is in prayer or gesture, sung or spoken, we gather to remember and be re-membered, connected more fully in our relationship with God and with one another.

This morning as I heard the great table prayer of thanksgiving, the words spoken prior to receiving Holy Communion, a great sense of gratitude washed over me. I have heard these or similar words spoken so many times.  I wondered: do others experience a similar gratitude? This week? This year? Ever?

I have heard before critique of worship “by the book.” That somehow there is something inferior if words are not spoken “from the heart,”  (i.e. made up on the spot, as if something prepared is not heartfelt). But such critique assumes a pastor or worship leader speaks for all of us, that what is on his or heart is on ours. But what if the pastor is joyful and we are sorrowful? Or what if what seems to be heartfelt becomes instead a manipulation of our emotions?

The words we say and sing each week do more than express feelings. They are more than nostalgia, more than wishful thinking. The words we sing and say and rituals we share form us for those times when we have no words, when our words fall short, when we forget the whole story.

This morning I was grateful for the individuals and community that shaped this thanksgiving prayer, a prayer that not only prepared us for Holy Communion but for another holy communion, the communion of saints. In hearing this prayer I was drawn out of myself, released from my own concerns, while also being pulled more deeply into the human experience. I had heard this prayer for the past many weeks, but today it did a new thing. It’s like children who need to sing something again and again to really know it. Somehow as we grow we think it all has to be new to be real. We are seduced by the advertisers, ready to consume, discard and move on to the next best thing. But as people of faith, we live in between past promises and future hope. All that is new is a gift of the Spirit, not something we manufacture.

I don’t come to worship to be entertained, to receive self-help tips or to hear rules to be good (which presumes others are not good). I come to remember and be re-membered because I forget. I forget “that by my own understanding and strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but the Holy Spirit has called me. (Small Catechism of Martin Luther) A friend goes through a divorce. A friend is dying from cancer and all words seem empty. But then I hear and sing words spoken through the ages. We taste the word becoming flesh. I trace a watery cross to remember my baptism into a mystery beyond my grasp. Then, unexpectedly by the Holy Spirit, I remember.  And I am grateful.