AN INTELLECTUAL GOES TO SACRAMENT MEETING

In my church, we teach each other. There is no pastor or minister or priest whose assignment it is to preach a weekly sermon.

We do have a bishop who is called out of the congregation to be our unpaid spiritual leader for a few years, until it is time to release him from the calling and let some other brave fellow take a turn.

Our bishop looks after our ward--and his work is demanding. He supervises our physical and spiritual well being, he counsels us individually and in groups, he organizes us so that all of the many tasks of the ward are accomplished; he even keeps track of who is ill and whether everyone has food and a place to live.  But one thing he does not do is preach a sermon every week. 

Instead, he regularly contacts two or three members of the ward and invites them to prepare a short talk for the following Sunday.  If you are in his ward and have a phobia about public speaking, you’d better let him know.  Because you are on his list of potential speakers. And eventually, he will get to you.

This is not a problem for me.  I like public speaking.  I like preparing a well-reasoned argument.  I like finding just the right quotes and examples to back up my thesis.  I like making each point follow logically upon the previous point, until I come to my fascinating conclusion.  I think I give very good speeches and after I give one, I usually congratulate myself. 

No, I am not worried that the bishop may ask me to prepare a talk for next Sunday.  That is not my problem.  This is my problem.  Most of the time, the person who is standing at the pulpit delivering a short sermon is not me.  It is someone else.  And what is required of me is not to speak, but to listen.

I am good at speaking.  I am not so good at listening.

I grew up in a family that had very little money, but was rich in art and music and literature.  I earned a Bachelor of Arts degree while studying under extraordinary professors and teachers.  My town has three public radio stations and three public television stations.  I have leisure time to read and (thanks to two really great libraries) an unlimited supply of books.   I am deeply aware that few people in this world have had the opportunities for learning that have been granted to me.  

This does not help when I am sitting in church.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Our Sunday gathering lasts for three hours.   First we have Sacrament Meeting (a worship service), then we have Sunday School (where we study a book of scripture) and finally we split into separate meetings for the women and the men.  In all three hours, lay members of the congregation are the speakers, the preachers and the teachers.

Which means that I spend three hours every week listening to amateur sermons.   Rarely do I ever hear a talk delivered by someone who has an advanced divinity degree or who has attended a theological seminary.  Whoever stands to address the congregation actually does something else for a living.   

This used to be a problem for me.  Sometimes I found the talks and lessons to be well done and helpful, but sometime I did not.  I would sit there and squirm when someone gave a talk that failed to follow any logical form.  Or when their remarks made it obvious that they definitely did not share my political views and philosophy of life. Or when they said something that simply wasn’t true. 

For example:  “Prayer is like electricity.  We will never understand how it works, and yet it does.”  (My daughter minored in physics.  She says that electricity is actually very easy to understand.  Prayer, however, remains a mystery.)

When someone gave a talk that I didn’t like, I was quick to pounce—I could easily point out the flaws in its presentation or content.  Or sometimes I would just ignore the speaker and instead write my own (much superior) talk in my head. It was many, many years before I learned an important truth.

I do not attend church to listen to impressive sermons. I attend church to listen to God.

When I was in my late thirties, I became very ill. At first, I was too ill to go to church.  Then, I became too ill to have friends come to visit. Finally, I was so ill that I could neither move nor talk.   For two years I was nearly comatose. 

My recovery took a long time. It was seven years before I walked into an LDS church again.  I remember the moment vividly.  It was like standing in a rain shower after a seven year drought.  I was surrounded by Latter-day Saints who didn’t even know my name, and yet I could feel their love and faith pouring into me.  I could tell that just by being in their presence, they were making me stronger. There is a word in scripture that describes this experience.  The word is edify.   We are commanded to gather together on Sunday to edify each other.  To make each other stronger.(1)

Some of my other Mormon friends have also had long periods in their lives when they could not attend church services. They affirm that when Latter-day Saints gather to worship, their love and faith combine into a precious and powerful resource that I believe cannot be generated in any other way.  In fact, when I was growing up, my mother sometimes told a story that illustrated this fact.

A few years after they were married, my parents moved to France for a year.  They did not speak the language and there were no LDS church meetings held in English anywhere nearby.  So on Sunday morning they would sit down with my brother and me and conduct church services for their family.  My father, an ordained elder, would bless bread and water to symbolize the Last Supper and offer it to us.   Then my mother would tell a scripture story.  That was our church for the day.  But sometimes, in the afternoon, my parents would bundle us into their car and drive quite some distance to attend Sacrament Meeting at an LDS French ward.  My mother later recalled that she never understand a word that was said in these meetings; they did it because it was so wonderful to feel the spirit of the saints.

The truth is, even before I was terribly ill, I had a vague awareness of this spiritual outpouring. However, I didn’t pay much attention to it.  It was such a normal part of my church life that I took it for granted.  In fact, Jesus could have been describing me when he said:

        “For this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears

          are dull  of hearing, and their eyes they have closed . . .” 

                                                                                                  (Matthew 13:15)

Now I look forward to church with eagerness.  And if I miss church on Sunday, that eagerness becomes a real hunger.  I join my fellow church members with gratitude; often I can feel their love and faith pouring into me from the moment that I walk through the church doors.

And yet. . . I can still be annoyed by a bad sermon.

I still want to pick apart a faulty argument or prove that I could do a better job with that topic. In fact, President Lorenzo Snow (also an intellectual) may have been aware of this kind of struggle when he said we should: 

       “ . . . rejoice in seeing the cause of Zion exalted by whatsoever hands

        Providence may  order; and have our bosoms closed against   

        the entrance of envy when a weaker instrument than ourselves 

        is called to a greater honor . . .”(2)

Ouch. Humility has never been my strong point.  It is not easy to cultivate the teachable spirit.  But I have finally learned an approach that works for me.

Before I go to church on Sunday morning, I spend some time thinking about my life.  I pray about my problems, worries and weaknesses.  Then I choose one that is very challenging for me—something that is breaking my heart.  Because the humble heart is what the Lord commands me to bring:

                      “Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in 

                       righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a

                       contrite spirit.”  (Doctrine & Covenants 59:8)

                                                     

After I arrive at church, I spend my time praying about a specific challenge and listening for divine direction.  Whether I am singing hymns, joining in prayer or hearing a talk, I am also imploring God for help and guidance on a particular concern.

This does not mean that I leave church with my problem solved.  I don’t expect to, because I choose my most difficult challenges to pray about.  But I do come home comforted and edified instead of frustrated and annoyed.   And, miraculously, I often can see more clearly the next step to take toward a solution. 

Recently my husband and I attended a church meeting that was devoted to the topic of missionary work.  Before the meeting I had asked God to help me know what my focus should be for that hour.  What came to me was that I should pray for help in becoming less of a control freak.   So, even though all the talks and hymns and prayers were about becoming a better missionary, I spent the hour  asking for help in conquering a personal weakness. 

I left church that day with two blessings.

One was the comforting assurance that the Lord would help me overcome my control issues.  The other was a renewed enthusiasm for missionary work.

Wow!  I thought.  Two for the price of one!  Thinking about one topic did not seem to prevent me from absorbing the other one.  In fact, my willingness to confess my shortcomings to the Lord seemed to make it easier for the general message of the meeting to take root in my heart. 

The truth is I often spend all three hours of church listening to talks and lessons that don’t really address the issue I am most concerned about that day.  It doesn’t seem to matter.  I am there to listen to God.  Surrounded by the love and faith of my fellow saints, I feel His mercy and hear His voice more clearly.

(1)  See I Corinthians 14:26;  Ephesians 4:12; Doctrine and Covenants 43:8

(2)  Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Lorenzo Snow,  p. 217

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                                                          Author’s Note

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Some of the vocabulary I use has a unique meaning in my church’s culture.  So I have provided a few definitions below.

Bishop:  the lay leader in a local LDS congregation

LDS:  short for “Latter-day Saint”

Mormon, Latter-day Saint, saint:  these are common names for a member of my church

Sacrament Meeting:  the main worship service in my church

Ward:  term for a local congregation in my church