Thinking Out Loud

June 21, 2018

Knowing the Family: Church Name Tags

Filed under: Christianity — Tags: , , , , , — paulthinkingoutloud @ 9:15 am

Yesterday, on another blog I write for, the question of name tags came up. I checked to see if we had ever covered anything like that here, and the closest we came was a few months ago when we looked at church family photo directories, here and here.

I recognize that for many of you this is a rather superficial subject, but increasingly, I think that people like to have a name to associate with the people with whom they are having fellowship or engaging in worship. When the “turn around and shake hands and welcome each other” part of the service kicks in — and we can debate that in another article in future — my go to posture if I don’t know the people is to say, “Hi, my name is Paul.”

I feel that people want to know who you are more than have their right hand shaken for two seconds.

Admittedly the photo directory covers some of this. If you’re church isn’t huge, you can page through the thing and associate names and faces before ever having the first conversation.

Social media also makes a difference. Many are connected on Facebook, etc., and you’ve seen your friends’ friends’ pictures previously. (Yes, that was the correct use of the possessive apostrophe.)

So would name tags help?

We wear them at conferences, where it’s assumed people from many different locations are converging together. This is often helpful over the course of a week or weekend, but of course we might never see those people again.

The Mormons have them as standard issue. A friend of mine actually made his own when trying to infiltrate a local Mormon congregation. I’m not sure it was effective, but he did stuff like that. (I wish I could tell you more!)

I attended a church once that used them. You left them in a rack and picked them up when you arrived and pinned them on upon arrival. After about 12 months (or less in my case) people just got tired of it, though some people kept using them for several more years. After the first season of use, everybody knew everybody by then.

And that’s just the point. Fellowship and getting to know each other should occur organically. We shouldn’t have to organize what should happen naturally in the body of Christ. It doesn’t need a level of administration.

Next thing you know you’re taking all the songs you sing regularly and putting them in a book! Oh wait, that happened, didn’t it? And then the churches went through a period of only singing what was in the hymnbook and it was more difficult to introduce new songs.

I would argue that formalizing the getting-to-know process would do the same. Rather, tell me your name, and then tell me more; a little about yourself, your family, where you live, what you work at, how long you’ve been attending the church.

 

 

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May 12, 2018

If a Sermon is Preached in a Forest, and No One is There to Hear it… ?

Filed under: Christianity, guest writer — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — paulthinkingoutloud @ 9:16 am

by Ruth Wilkinson

…Boston was one of our most recent expeditions. Really interesting city (American history machine aside). Cool architecture, good subway, Chinatown, really easy to get lost, terrible maps, good food. Perfect. Some historic churches. Mostly for “freedom” reasons, of one kind or another.

We chanced upon one that really struck me. Not as old as some of the others, probably. No “Paul Revere slept through the sermon here” plaques. But a lovely red brick building, tucked away in one of the more serpentine neighborhoods. We climbed a few steps to a back door and found it unlocked, so we went in. Found ourselves in a foyer of sorts, creaky floored and unlit. There was another door in front of us, so we pulled that one open. Creak. Stepped to the threshold. Creak. Peeked through the door. Creak.

It was beautiful inside. Warm and hushed and soaring. Stained glass windows, old dark pews, draperies and candles. It smelled of polished wood and wax and flame and time and prayer. But we didn’t go in any further. We closed the door and left. Creaking all the way…

…You see, the reason why we left without really going in is that when we opened that inner door, we heard something.

Someone speaking. One voice.

One voice echoing through the room, over the pews, off the windows. The pews that were completely empty, the windows that were telling their stories to no one.

One voice, chanting in what might have been Latin. Reciting a text that no one would hear. Except the speaker and God himself. Because they were the only ones in the room.

As we left, we looked at the sign on the fence outside. “5:00 pm. Mass”. It was 5 pm. So the Mass was being said. Whether anyone was there to hear it or not. It had to be said.

Why? I have no clue. But it had to be said. If only to the antique pews and the priceless glass and the glowing candles and absolutely not a living soul. Haunted and driven by tradition. Disregarded by life and humanity.

…Church with a sermon and no congregation.

original article at GTI

May 29, 2010

If a Tree Falls in the Forest, and No One is There to Hear It…

Today’s item is a joint-post between this blog and my devotional blog, Christianity 201.


I got some rather flukey traffic this week which drove the stats to a record high.

Then there is Christianity 201, which I do mostly for myself. It has readers, but nothing close to this one. I enjoy blogging at Thinking out Loud, but I enjoy searching my own heart to come up with things to post to C201.

The contrasting stats reminds me of something that happened last summer, which my wife blogged as part of a longer piece:

…Boston was one of our most recent expeditions. Really interesting city (American history machine aside). Cool architecture, good subway, Chinatown, really easy to get lost, terrible maps, good food. Perfect. Some historic churches. Mostly for “freedom” reasons, of one kind or another.

We chanced upon one that really struck me. Not as old as some of the others, probably. No “Paul Revere slept through the sermon here” plaques. But a lovely red brick building, tucked away in one of the more serpentine neighborhoods. We climbed a few steps to a back door and found it unlocked, so we went in. Found ourselves in a foyer of sorts, creaky floored and unlit. There was another door in front of us, so we pulled that one open. Creak. Stepped to the threshold. Creak. Peeked through the door. Creak.

It was beautiful inside. Warm and hushed and soaring. Stained glass windows, old dark pews, draperies and candles. It smelled of polished wood and wax and flame and time and prayer. But we didn’t go in any further. We closed the door and left. Creaking all the way…

…You see, the reason why we left without really going in is that when we opened that inner door, we heard something.

Someone speaking. One voice.

One voice echoing through the room, over the pews, off the windows. The pews that were completely empty, the windows that were telling their stories to no one.

One voice, chanting in what might have been Latin. Reciting a text that no one would hear. Except the speaker and God himself. Because they were the only ones in the room.

As we left, we looked at the sign on the fence outside. “5:00 pm. Mass”. It was 5 pm. So the Mass was being said. Whether anyone was there to hear it or not. It had to be said.

Why? I have no clue. But it had to be said. If only to the antique pews and the priceless glass and the glowing candles and absolutely not a living soul. Haunted and driven by tradition. Disregarded by life and humanity.

…Church with a sermon and no congregation.

You can read her article which, in context, has a whole other set of meanings, with the most inescapable being what you get from the second last paragraph: Tradition; irrelevance; religiosity.

Christianity 201 is different, however. This is blogging in the original “web-log” sense of journal-keeping. It remains available for future discovery; readers driven perhaps by items I have yet to write.

(Have you ever noticed how close “stats” sounds to “status?” So stats-seeking is really status-seeking.)

And all of it of course is being read by some people already. I’d probably do this even if there weren’t any readers. Having tasted both the highs and lows of statistics, I’m not sure that one is better than the other. It’s somewhat similar to what I wrote about the contrasts between the large church we attended two weeks ago, and the much smaller one we attended last week.

Still, I don’t know how that Boston cleric could do it. Something unseen drives him to go through the forms of the mass even though no other humans are present…

…Although, I wonder if later that day, he suddenly remembered hearing the door creaking and sensed that an individual; no, wait; a couple came in, listened for a minute, and then left?

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