I almost didn’t go to worship today.
This is just some of what I would have missed:
walking into church and being greeted by my neighbor.
a stirring reaffirmation of our racial justice statement, led by two pillars of the congregation, voices disparate but united in confession, commitment, and public declaration.
a reading of Acts 3:12-19 by a woman whose voice demanded our attention. I heard, as if for the first time, Jesus named as “the Author of life.” It makes all the difference in the world that the risen Christ authors our lives.
the gathering and honoring of every emotion—grief and lament welcomed and held alongside joy and hope.
an invitation to consider Emmaus as anywhere—and everywhere—we feel upended, defeated, hopeless, and unsure. Jesus is with us there.
sharing the peace with someone who called me by name.
a rendition of “He’s Got the Whole World” that put such a smile on my face that it might now be a permanent fixture. We sang—we ALL sang—They’ve got the little tiny baby in their hands. She’s got everybody here in her hands. He’s got the whole world in his hands. The language we use to describe God matters.
two lovely communion servers bringing communion to folks in their pews; one wore sequined shoes that rivaled any I had seen at the prom grand march the night before. Beautiful.
receiving communion while the congregation sang, “Take My Life That I May Be” (the FUN arrangement!)
spontaneous whistles and applause after nearly every song the jazz musicians offered; a STANDING OVATION for the musicians at the conclusion of the postlude (no one left during the postlude; no one even began talking!)
the sending song, “Aleluya, Cristo Resucito!” I can’t get over the third verse: Rise, Magdalena, from your weeping; Christ stands before your very eyes. Quickly return to the disciples; bear the good news: “He is alive.” It’s the word “bear” that’s getting me. Not tell. Not share. Bear. I hear in this both burden and joy. Carry. Birth. Bear.
I turned to Aidan at the conclusion of the worship service. “I wish every worship service could be jazz worship.” For me, it’s bringing all of who we are to worship and worship holding space for all of us. It’s resisting forces that defy the full humanity of all people. It’s whole bodies living, moving, making music, and responding. It’s the story of both our common life and our unique lives, written by the Author who carries us to freedom. It’s worship that bears the good news.
The incredible Jon Ailabouni and crew cannot be present in every worship service, but the spirit of jazz worship can be. And, indeed, I believe it is. Jon’s liturgy is entitled, “The Spirit is Moving: A Jazz Liturgy of Renewal.” The Spirit is moving. She’s tearing down and building up. She’s surprising us with joy. She’s empowering us to bear the good news, even—and perhaps especially—through lives that are messy and complicated, fraught with maddeningly recurring storylines. She’s singing and swaying to the rhythm of a new song. She’s got everybody here in her hands. She’s got the whole world in her hands.
Just a little snippet of Jon Ailabouni and crew playing today’s postlude, “Aleluya, Cristo Resucito!” arr. Jon Ailabouni. You can learn more about Jon and his phenomenal music here: https://www.jonailabounimusic.com/
And, I would be remiss not to share that all of this took place at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Decorah, Iowa. You can view the entirety of today’s worship service here: https://www.youtube.com/. You can visit the church’s website to learn more about the Racial Justice Statement: https://www.goodshepherddecorah.org/racial-justice-statement/
P.S. It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted here on Substack, friends. As I shared on my website recently, I’m not quite sure yet how I’ll continue to use both forums. Time will tell. In the meantime, I’m grateful for your being part of this community, and I hope you’ll hang in here with me. I promise not to take it personally, though, if this just isn’t your thing anymore. May this Easter season bring you joy!