c. 2000 Religion News Service
(Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.)
(UNDATED) In this congregation they call it “walking the aisle.” During the final hymn, those who wish to present themselves for membership walk forward to the pastor and are introduced to the congregation. After worship, members come forward to greet them.
So it is today, while people sing “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” to a tune called “Beecher,” my wife, youngest son and I walk the aisle. We join as “friends” of this congregation _ as Christians, that is, not as members of this or that denomination. I remain an Episcopal pastor _ one of several clergy from other traditions who have found a home in this welcoming congregation.
People greet us with hugs, handshakes and words filled with genuine delight. I feel the warmth of belonging.
This is the first time in nearly 30 years that I have simply joined a church _ not taken up residence on a particular mountain as a paid professional, but scanned the range of mountains, felt God’s hand on my back, and decided, This one is where I wish to make my home for this next season of my life.
Does it matter which mountain? Yes and no. It’s hard to live as a “citizen of the world,” to call all places home and not to have roots in one particular home. There are times, I think, when we need to set ourselves “apart,” as Jesus led his disciples “apart” to witness his transfiguration, so that we can see and hear a few things clearly. We need to be hugged by people who know us by name. We need a home base for our ministries as the baptized.
But it isn’t like selecting a car or a house. It isn’t a matter of scanning the market, as it were, and deciding this is the best of all cars or the finest of all houses. We often treat church membership that way, and we become prideful about our choice. We bask in reflected glory, as if membership here or there conferred bragging rights.
But it didn’t matter which mountain Jesus chose for his transfiguration. The Gospel of Mark doesn’t even name it. Nor did they stay there long. It was just a place. What made it holy was that, for this brief moment, Jesus had led them there, so that he could show them a new truth.
I suppose it is inevitable that denominations, like high schools and colleges, build loyalty by declaring themselves special. And they are special, in that they provide a home to specific people for a specific time. But it is folly _ worse than folly _ to say that one tradition knows all truth, or that one congregation is superior to others. That is the path of arrogance that has made Christians a curse to humankind.
That is the path of arrogance that is even now unraveling the carefully laid demagoguery of the religious right wing and giving national politicians the courage to denounce meanness masquerading as gospel. The Pat Robertsons and Jerry Falwells of this shadow world finally got the “bully pulpit” they wanted _ and even presidential wannabes are forced to admit they are nothing but a coalition of bullies.
We should never forget that much of the human misery of the past two millennia came from hands like ours, from men and women who climbed, not a mount of transfiguration, but a throne, an inquisitor’s bench, a pulpit, a battlement, a billboard, and there shouted, “We are right! We are the best! We alone deserve power! All others will burn, and we will set the torch!”
Jesus leads us apart because he has something to show us. Something about himself. Something that will frighten us and make us glad we have companions. Something that will make us see the world differently. Something that will give us the courage to turn away from pride, fear and right opinion, and to see “only Jesus.”
Twenty-three years ago my bride and I walked another aisle while friends sang “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.” That time it was to the tune called “Hyfrodol.”
As we drive home today, my wife smiles and says, “Did you notice? Same words, different tune.”
DEA END EHRICH
