August 10th

Tears and Tears: Gathering 2022

Opening scene: Registration desk. Day One. Tears.

Good morning!
Good morning! Is this where we register?
Yes, it is. What’s your name?
Anna-Lisa Salo.
Emily?
No. AN NA LI SA SA LO.
It’s hard to enunciate behind a mask.
Oh! Anna-Lisa Salo!
The greeter’s eyes transform into a look of complete joy and wonder. Her eyes are the size of saucers.
Clearly, she knows who I am. I panic. Do I know this person? I don’t think I know this person.
I can’t see her name tag clearly.
Maybe if I play along and act like I know her, she might drop the name of a person, place, or event that will scrape away the sticky cobwebs from my memory banks.
Anna-Lisa! I’m Susan Rayner!
Susan Rayner? Slight pause. OH! Susan RAYner! Whaaaat?!
An instant aha!! moment. I know Susan Rayner! Well, I don’t know her but I do know her…sort of. I know of her but I don’t know her know her. You know? We know one another, not through a shared history, but through the stories others have shared about us.
Clearly moved with emotion, tears fill her eyes. She rises from her seat and makes her way to my side of the table. We hug each other like long lost army buddies. There are no words. Just knowing each other is enough.
Welcome to Gathering 2022!
 
Closing Scene: Delegate Session. Day Four. Tears.

It’s Monday. Energy levels are low. Our four day odyssey is coming to a close. People are worshipping under subdued lighting. Some stand awkwardly, ramrod straight while others sway to the music. Swaying appears to be an acceptable form of movement at such events. It’s the middle ground between full-on dance moves and clapping. I know many wish they could dance but are too shy. We are, indeed, a diverse bunch.
I stand at the back of the space. Scanning the crowd as I sing (while swaying slightly), my eyes come to rest on something rather bizarre. Smack dab in the middle of the crowd and worshipping with all his heart is a man who has a huge tear on the seat of his pants. It’s like a car crash. I can actually hear the squealing tires as my eyes come to rest on that gaping hole. My worship vibe has now completely evaporated. I feel so bad for this man.
What should I do?
Does he know?
If he knows, why would he wear those pants and not cover the tear?
Why doesn’t anyone say anything?
I know others see the tear but they worship on as if there is no tear.  
How can he not know? Surely he feels the breeze wafting through his backside?
Should I tell him?
Should I get someone else to tell him?
But if I go and tell him, that will only draw more attention to the problem and embarrass him.
Right?!
Such a dilemma.
In the end, I did nothing.
 
Much later, I got to thinking. Calling on my Red Green philosophy, this tear was a mighty good metaphor for the church today. One can compare the church to the fabric of this poor man’s trousers. This fabric has held together well for many years. It has been sturdy and serviceable. With the passing of time, however, the fabric began to wear thin. We didn’t notice. We just continued to sing and dance around the issue, staying the course. And then, one day, a snag appeared. Unperturbed, we danced and sang around the snag. It was, after all, such a trivial problem. Some pretended not to notice. Eventually, the fabric around the snag  gave way creating a small tear. Some worshipped on as if there was no tear. Some set to patching the tear with new cloth and fancy stitching. Still others began to sound the alarm.
 
What should we do?!
 
But we kept dancing and singing, hoping it would go away. Unfortunately, the fabric could no longer resist the unrelenting stress and strain. One day, it tore open leaving a huge gaping hole that could no longer be ignored, denied, or dismissed. Those hidden things, the things the church worked so hard to cover up or protect from prying eyes were now exposed for all to see. The church was now dancing and singing with a huge tear in the seat of its pants.
 
Tears and tears. As a church, according to one of our speakers, we are an emergent people. We are becoming. We are not a static entity but a wild, free, evolving, organic body.  Along the way, we experience the tears of knowing and the tears of dissonance. The fabric of our institutions begins to wear and weaken until a gaping hole appears that can no longer be patched or stitched back to its original state. Instead of dancing and singing around the tear, we turn to God for a new pattern, a new fabric, a new way of being during this time of transition. From where I’m sitting, it looks like we need a whole new set of trousers. For some, this is terrifying. For others, it is exhilarating. No matter how we feel about it all, God is doing a new thing. It’s time to pay attention.
 
“Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.”  Isaiah 43:18-19
 
Do you not perceive it?