The Congregational Project has been one of the most popular ICJS programs for more than a decade. Its central purpose is to traverse religious and ethnic divides by bringing together Jews, Roman Catholic, Protestant, and African-American Christians in an exploration of our commonalities and differences centered on a particular theme. The theme this year is worship – the distinctive practices, beliefs, and music at the heart of worship in each of our communities that teach us how to think, to imagine, and to live in the world. What we learn in the course of our four weeks of study will be folded into a larger ICJS initiative called "Reclaiming the Center."
The title of the first session of the 2009 Congregational Project, held on February 5, was "‘Gather the People': Song, Prayer, and a Palace of Time." Our subject for the evening was the structure of worship. Those of us gathered in the beautiful library at the ICJS's Bunting-Meyerhoff Center were immediately put to work discussing two related topics: (1) Think about an instance in which you experienced authentic prayer, and (2) describe to each other what you think your community is doing when it is at worship.
Following this appetizer, the evening's presenters – the Rev. Dr. Grady Yeargin, pastor of The City Temple of Baltimore, and ICJS scholars Dr. Rosann Catalano, Dr. Christopher Leighton, and Dr. Adam Gregerman – served up the main course: the "order of worship" in each of their respective communities.
To someone unfamiliar with the worship service in an African-American church, Pastor Yeargin's handout was daunting. While the individual elements listed were intelligible enough, the list was so jam-packed I could only imagine that the service must go on forever. As Pastor Yeargin explained, however, a three-hour service of prayer, song, and fellowship visited by the Holy Spirit could seem to have transpired in the blink of an eye. An encounter with God is the hope of every worship service; and when that encounter occurs, the service stops at that point, whether it has gotten to the end or not. Thus, the order of service in this African-American community is not fixed, but is truly open to the working of the Spirit.
The Order of the Mass in the Roman Catholic Church, on the other hand, has no corresponding flexibility: Not only is the order fixed, but it is exactly the same in every Roman Catholic church the world over. While the order is immutable, Dr. Catalano explained, the "feel" of the service is not the same the world over because it depends on the nature of each church community. Dr. Catalano described Roman Catholic worship as "being attentive and mindful of belonging to a community called by Jesus Christ to be in covenant with the God of Israel." The hope of the service may be expressed in the words of the priest that follow the confession of sin: "May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life."
Dr. Leighton presented us with a handout explaining in some depth the "Presbyterian Service for the Lord's Day." Rather than explain the "what" or the "how" of Presbyterian worship, however, Dr. Leighton chose to concentrate on the "why." Presbyterians, he said, constitute themselves as a community when they worship. Part of worship is making strangers feel welcome and as though they belong to the community. Another part of worship is getting right the relationship between the community and the outside world. Although Dr. Leighton did not say it in so many words, it seemed to me from what he did say that Presbyterian worship might be summed up in the words labeled in the handout as the "Response to the Word": "The proclamation of God's Word in readings from scripture and sermon invites a response of faith. We respond in song, confession of faith, prayer, and offering."
In his presentation Dr. Gregerman did not focus specifically on the Jewish worship service, but on the twenty-four hours of Shabbat, showing how worship takes place over a whole day in both the synagogue and the home. The purpose of worship is to separate Shabbat from "mundane time," i.e., to "remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." Christians who do not know much about Judaism are usually aware that there are things that Jews are not permitted to do on Shabbat. Dr. Gregerman explained that these prohibitions have the same purpose as the rituals of worship: to make Jews aware that Shabbat is different from the other six days of the week. The emotionally powerful Havdalah service that marks the conclusion of Shabbat makes the same point: "Blessed are You, God, King of the Universe, who makes a distinction between sacred and mundane, between light and darkness, between Israel and the nations, between the seventh day and the six working days."
The reference in the title of this evening's program to "a Palace of Time" comes from Abraham Joshua Heschel's stunningly beautiful meditation called, simply, The Sabbath. Heschel characterizes Judaism as a religion of time rather than space, and the Sabbath as the sanctification of time. "The Sabbaths," he writes, "are our great cathedrals." "The seventh day is a palace in time which we build. It is made of soul, of joy and reticence."
It seems we have much to ponder as we await next week's installment of the Congregational Project, which is clearly off to a solid beginning.
In week two, the Congregational Project continued its exploration of Jewish and Christian worship with an examination of sin and confession. ICJS Executive Director Dr. Christopher Leighton, who unfailingly speaks of sin with great enthusiasm, began the evening's proceedings with a description of confession in the Presbyterian community. To one who is accustomed to reading an unchanging confession of sin from a prayer book, it was surprising to learn that in the Presbyterian Church, the confession is not static, but is recrafted often to fit changing circumstances. Among Presbyterians, confession is a recognition that something has gone wrong (sin); that reality does not comport with God's dream for us; that there is a gap between who we are and who we are called to be; that sin has so confounded our relationships with God and with other people that we are, in fact, alienated from the creation itself. Confession is also an admission that the community must take responsibility for what has gone wrong.
Following this introduction, we set to work at our tables with two Presbyterian confessions of sin. Our task was threefold: Trace the sequence of thoughts and feelings articulated in the prayers, determine what the community sees or experiences as the problem, and decide whether these confessions orient people in terms of how they are to think, act, and live. In the course of the plenary discussion of these confessions, Dr. Leighton pointed out that the sins named in them are not things that can be repaired by the government or by a capable therapist. Repair depends instead on a radical reorientation of our lives, and that can be accomplished only through the grace of God.
Next ICJS Jewish Scholar Dr. Adam Gregerman directed our attention to sin and confession in the Jewish community. Jewish tradition, he told us, focuses on the necessity to make right decisions and on the consequences of making wrong decisions. The first eleven chapters of the book of Genesis are replete with stories that illustrate the unfortunate consequences of wrong decisions. When the Bible shifts to the story of the people of Israel, the notion of right and wrong decisions becomes even more explicit: After Moses presents the people with all of God's laws, he says, "I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life" (Deuteronomy 30:19); choose right over wrong.
Then Dr. Gregerman gave us three examples of confession: a portion of the Amidah ("The Standing Prayer"), which is said three times a day; Al Chayt ("Regarding this sin"), from the Yom Kippur [Day of Atonement] Liturgy; and Ashamnu ("We have transgressed"), also from the Yom Kippur Liturgy. He asked us to study these prayers looking for the types of sins named in them, and for what we learn about human nature and how things go wrong. The most striking thing we discovered, particularly in the Al Chayt prayer, was the inclusion of religious/theological sins together with moral/ethical sins – for example, the desecration of the Divine Name is unceremoniously lumped in with cheating in business to get a leg up on the competition. The lesson we can take from such an odd juxtaposition is that moral and ethical infractions are closely connected with religious and theological offenses, and these two different kinds of sin should not be considered separately. Right is right, and wrong is wrong.
Our third presenter of the evening was the Rev. Dr. Grady Yeargin, pastor of City Temple of Baltimore. Pastor Yeargin began by explaining that in the African-American community each church is independent. His remarks, therefore, pertained only to his church. The congregation at City Temple takes Communion on the first Sunday of every month. In preparation for coming to the Lord's Table, the congregation reads the "Church Covenant," which includes a confession of sin. Sin is identified as the failure to love – a breaking of relationships by failing to love God and neighbor as they should, by doing things they should not have done, and not doing things they should have done. Reaffirming the "Church Covenant" serves to renew those broken relationships. Confessing sin and being forgiven renews relationships, and the Holy Spirit working in them keeps the relationships intact.
ICJS Roman Catholic Scholar Dr. Rosann Catalano summarized the remarks of her colleagues, making five general points. First, though the differences are real and important, all of our communities have an individual and collective need to say out loud that we have sinned. Second, in Christian worship, confession occurs early in the service and always before we come to the Lord's Table. Third, the confession is said in community. Fourth, although our sinful actions are specific, the liturgical texts of confession are generic so that they will remain timeless. And fifth, it is only in community that we can both discern how far off the mark we are and be reminded that God loves us.
Near the conclusion of the evening, Dr. Leighton returned to the Presbyterian worship service to make one more point. Following the confession of sin there is a period of silence, and following the silence the minister pronounces an assurance of pardon. Dr. Leighton finds the automatic feel of this process troubling: We love to sin, God loves to forgive – what a great arrangement! But it takes work to repair what has gone wrong, and there is not much emphasis in the service on the work of redemption. Instead of our thinking that God cannot help but forgive us, Dr. Leighton would prefer to hear that, at best, confessing our sins puts us on the road to forgiveness, but doesn't get us all the way there.
The third session of 2009's Congregational Project – "Sing Unto the Lord": Music in Prayer and Worship – introduced a stunning novelty into the continuity of the program. Rather than simply talk about "music in prayer and worship," the presenters let their music do the talking; and the audience, whose number had increased significantly from the week before, was delighted. It seems presumptuous to try to put such an extraordinary experience into words: Mere words, even the most eloquent (could I find them), cannot do the evening justice. But a lacuna in this diary would leave the wrong impression altogether. Such an evening must not pass without some record of events.
We heard first from Rabbi Elizabeth Bolton of Congregation Beit Tikvah, who lent her beautiful voice to a range of examples of music from Jewish tradition. She began her presentation by expressing her belief that music in general and singing in particular are the key to opening up tradition, liturgy, and prayer, because music prayed and sung reaches the heart and soul in a way that nothing else can. Fittingly, the first chant to which she gave voice represented the oldest sustained sounds heard in the synagogue – the chant used for the Haftorah, the prophetic text paired with the Torah reading for the day. This chant, she explained, is the basis for the "learning mode" used for learning and remembering Jewish liturgical music. She also mentioned a much newer mode that was created in the twentieth century and came from Turkey. This was the "hava nagila" mode, and as she began to chant, everyone in the room joined in.
Next in Rabbi Bolton's program came three fragments of music from the High Holy Days, the zenith of the Jewish liturgical calendar – the Kaddish, Kol Nidre, and the Al Chayt, which we had studied the week before. The Kaddish, the public affirmation of God's greatness and holiness, is certainly not restricted to Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, but during this period the familiar words are set to unfamiliar music, set in fact to at least three different musical settings in the course of the Days of Awe. Rabbi Bolton sang the opening passage of Kol Nidre because for most Jews, Yom Kippur would not be Yom Kippur without Kol Nidre. The Al Chayt, which is a very repetitive prayer, sounds like psalmody when it is chanted.
The final protion of Rabbi Bolton's presentation was devoted to Shabbat. First up was Veshamru, the words of which are taken from Exodus 31:16-17. There are dozens of versions of Veshamru; Rabbi Bolton sang three of them, each one quite different from the others. No petitionary prayers may be said on Shabbat, but a blessing for healing may be offered. Rabbi Bolton sang two of these – Mi Shebeirach, by Debbie Friedman and Drorah Setel, based on liturgy; and Ana El Na, which comes from Numbers 12:13, the words spoken by Moses when his sister Miriam was afflicted with a skin disease.
Rabbi Bolton concluded her presentation with Yih'yu L'Ratzon, the prayer in Psalm 19:15, and with a declaration: More than the Jews have kept Jewish music, Jewish music has kept the Jews.
Rabbi Elizabeth Bolton Video Excerpts
Christian music in prayer and worship was offered this evening by the choir from Pastor Grady Yeargin's church, and what an amazing offering it was! Led by Dr. Kenneth M. Dean, Jr., Minister of Music, and Mr. Charles Arnette, Assistant Director of Music at The City Temple of Baltimore (Baptist), the twelve members of the choir raised the roof and brought down the house. Never before have Congregational Project participants done so much hand-clapping, foot-tapping, and arm-raising. Twelve truly outstanding musicians gave us a taste of the musical side of African-American worship by singing their way through the order of service Pastor Yeargin had presented during the first evening's program.
There is no point in trying to provide a full description of this presentation. You really had to be there. Suffice it to say that there were interesting contrasts in the music – the very familiar and the not-so-familiar, the sedate and the not-so-sedate, songs sung with and without musical accompaniment. When the music ended, all too soon, Pastor Yeargin told us, in modest understatement, that through word, prayer, and song, something is given for people to take through the week.
City Temple of Baltimore Choir Video Excerpts
After the choir left the building, Dr. Catalano provided us with questions for discussion at our tables. I'm fairly certain that everyone ignored them. The plenary discussion that followed the noisy small group conversations served as a final decompression before we went out into the cold night to make our way home. Two of the statements made during that discussion are a fitting summary of the evening's festivities. The first was that the music brought the worship space into the library where we were gathered, and the second declared Rabbi Bolton's presentation "mystical" and The City Temple's presentation "majestic." The two presentations together made this Congregational Project evening "magical," in the very best sense of the word.
On the last evening of this year's Congregational Project, Dr. Rosann Catalano and Rabbi Ilyse Kramer faced a daunting task, namely, following the "act" from the week before. They both did their very best to rise to the occasion: Dr. Catalano, in theory, became a priest; and Rabbi Kramer enlivened her presentation of Shabbat rituals with a story about setting her desk on fire on one occasion when she attempted to observe Shabbat in Israel.
The subject for this final session was "‘And I Shall Be in Your Midst': Table, Altar, and the Presence of God." Dr. Catalano presented the section of the Roman Catholic Mass called "the Liturgy of the Eucharist" ("the work [of the people] to give thanks"). She began by filling in some necessary background information concerning the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), called by Pope John XXIII "to open the windows of the Church and let the fresh air blow through." Because Vatican II was an official Church council, all decisions made by the bishops gathered in Rome were binding. The first document promulgated by the council was called Sacrosanctum Concilium (1963). This document concerned itself with changes in the liturgy, changes made "for the pastoral benefit of the faithful."
Having established this foundation, Dr. Catalano moved on to the heart of her presentation. She outlined three changes in the liturgy wrought by Sacrosanctum Concilium. These changes included designating the priest as "presider" over the Mass rather than its "celebrant," renaming the "altar of sacrifice" the "table," and moving the table forward and stationing the priest behind it, facing the congregation. The effect of each of these changes, taken singly, was not of great significance; but their cumulative effect was profound. The congregation was transformed from a group of passive observers into an organic part of the Mass, a necessary presence. Table fellowship became an important element in worship. And priest and people, facing each other, formed a circle encompassing God's presence, which formerly had been somewhere "beyond" both the congregation and its celebrant.
Dr. Catalano concluded her presentation with a brief discussion of some of the language in the post-Vatican II liturgy. Perhaps the most significant difference is the reference to the cup of [Jesus'] blood "shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven." The language in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark (and, essentially, the pre-Vatican II liturgy) states that Jesus' blood is "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." The change from "many" to "all" better expresses the universality of Christ's sacrifice, but at the same time it raises some problematic questions: Who gets to come to the table? And who decides who gets to come to the table?
The last word in the 2009 Congregational Project belonged to Rabbi Ilyse Kramer, who showed us how Shabbat is celebrated at the table in a Jewish home. How Jews celebrate Shabbat varies among and within the different denominations. Rabbi Kramer's presentation reflected traditional Orthodox Jewish customs, while the text we consulted throughout her demonstration was published by the Reconstructionist tradition. The first of three Shabbat meals, which takes place on Friday evening, is the longest, too long in fact to be described here in its entirety. Instead, I shall include those parts of Rabbi Kramer's presentation that were most striking to me as a Christian. I must admit that the Shabbat meal as she described it fills me with what the late Bishop Krister Stendahl termed, most aptly, "holy envy."
The Shabbat table is (just) a table, but the meal is also a reflection of the sacrifices once offered in the Jerusalem Temple. Thus, the table is the Temple altar transformed, and a number of things connected to the Temple are coded in modern Jewish rituals. In a sense, Shabbat begins before Shabbat actually begins: The candles are lighted eighteen minutes before sundown because making a fire on Shabbat is forbidden. (Putting a fire out on Shabbat is also forbidden, which presented Rabbi Kramer with quite a conundrum when she discovered her desk aflame.) There must be at least two candles because Jews are commanded to both "remember" (Exodus) and "observe" (Deuteronomy) the Sabbath. Before the family begins to eat, there are a number of blessings to be said: blessing of the children; a blessing for one's wife; and a blessing over the wine, which is called Kiddush. There is also a blessing over the challah, the bread, and salt is sprinkled on the first piece of bread. There are always two loaves of bread. These loaves symbolize the double portion of manna the people of Israel were given on Friday mornings in the wilderness so that they would not have to gather any food on Shabbat. The salt is one of those things that hearken back to the Temple. According to Leviticus 2:13, salt was to be a part of all sacrificial offerings, whether of meat or of grain. In the case of a meat offering, the salt removed whatever blood remained after the animal had been slaughtered.
After the blessing over the challah, the family gathers around the table to eat their Sabbath meal. Because Shabbat is unlike every other day of the week, there is no eating and running. This meal is a time for family conversation, the singing of Shabbat table songs (zemirot), and a discussion of the Torah portion for the week. And, of course, the meal ends with blessing – Birkat HaMazon, the Grace After Meals.
As is customary, this final session of the Congregational Project concluded with discussions at tables and in plenary. At the table where I was sitting, a Christian woman spoke of the special feeling of celebrating Shabbat as a family – a feeling, she said, that one doesn't have when one "goes up for Communion" ("holy envy" again). Her remark made me regret that we Christians had not made more of an effort to convey to our Jewish brothers and sisters the very special feeling one does experience in taking Communion. The two "feelings" are not the same, but they are both feelings of holiness in the presence of God.
