Our Worship on Television?

Recently a parishioner wrote me asking if I'd thought about televising our Sunday worship so homebound parishioners could participate and feel more connected to Trinity. I thanked the person for their interest but replied, “No, and let me explain why.”

Last spring I was in Florida visiting my parents. I over slept and missed the 8AM worship service at my home parish—St. Andrew's Episcopal Church. Instead, I turned on the television and watched the worship service of a local Methodist church. The experience was jolting.

The television camera was mounted in the rear of the worship space above the congregation. From a downward viewing angle I saw a large number of empty pews. I couldn’t help but notice many in the pews had no hair or gray hair. Any student of organized religion, even through the lens of the television, could see this was likely once a vibrant and full congregation now aged and half-empty.

In a word the worship was very amateurish. I suspect local worship, as opposed to the professional multi-million dollar affairs put out by arena sized congregations, is one of those things best engaged in the flesh and doesn’t as easily yield its fruit to mere spectators from a distance.

Liturgy, the “work of the people” offered to God by mere mortals in local settings for personal edification, is in many ways an amateur hour. There is no hiding all the deficiencies visible on any given Sunday morning. Preachers ramble without purpose, choirs sing off key, lectors mispronounce words, processions meander aimlessly in curved lines, and these are simply the most visible inadequacies.

Yet, something of great dignity is being played out in this local drama: the human heart—unseen by any camera—is being drawn out of hiding to interact with the divine. No camera could ever project the true contrition that often precedes such an encounter or the true joy and gratitude that comes after such an encounter. This is partly because that same camera lens entertains us with actors and actresses portraying just such feelings in movies. We are rather jaded and can easily see the tears of the preacher as manipulative when in fact they may be genuine—or maybe even both!

My experience is that something happens on Sunday mornings that can't be projected through a television lens and is akin to what happens Monday through Friday in the workplace. The longer we work side-by-side with people the less we see the outer person (size, weight, hair color, clothing) and the more we see the inner person. Consequently, the person “changes” in our sight so that someone you thought you’d not care for (because of outward appearance) turns out in fact to be someone whose inner qualities attract and delight you.

The deficiencies in worship become less visible as we become more attached to the people in worship. It is the relationships between the people of God in a worship space that gives meaning to the liturgy. In fact, sometimes the deficiencies take on new meaning when I know and love the people. For example, mispronounced words mean little to me when I know the lector has overcome the fear of standing in front of people or has overcome stuttering.

In some ways I'm more connected to my parishioners than ever before through weekly email, phone, and website. Yet, I feel in my bones a separateness or loss of inner connection. The passing of information from one source to another does not make for community. Knowing the times of services, the speakers, the agendas, the outlines, and meeting times does not necessarily lead to community.

How connected are you to the people with whom you share worship? Do you know the names of the people seated around you? Do you know anything about their story--the personal details through which hearts are often knit? We all want a richer worship experience? One way is to tighten up the interactions of those who lead worship. However, a better way is to become more connected with those with whom you worship. Invite a parishioner to lunch. Sit with someone at coffee hour. Take a step and I bet you'll find two steps moving toward you.