From Creeds to Credos

Since yesterday morning was absolutely lovely, we decided to head out to Sibley State Park for park church. For those who aren't familiar, Peace Lutheran Church in New London, MN, has been offering a non-denominational church service each Sunday (Memorial Day to Labor Day) at Sibley State Park for fifty years. I have been attending these services, off and on, for about forty of those fifty years.

Not surprisingly, the services follow a fairly traditional format - a couple songs, responsive readings, a concise yet challenging message, and of course, food (they provide donuts and coffee). Overall, it's a "gosh, golly you betcha" sort of experience which is a testament to Scandinavian hospitality and offers a spiritual nugget to chew on for the week, all for less than an hour of one's time. I suppose that's why the place is packed on any given week.

Yesterday's experience was a bit extraordinary since there was an infant baptism. Even though there was no hymnal to follow, I listened along as the pastor proceeded through the liturgy. At the end, he had us all recite the Nicene Creed (the firstborn twin to the Apostle's Creed), and at the end of the service, we closed (as we always do) with the Lord's Prayer.

As I was making my way through the recitations, I started thinking about them. I grew up in the Reformed church and attended private school, K-12, so the Apostle's Creed and Lord's Prayer were recited regularly at services and events throughout my formative years. Then, I started thinking about all the memorizing we did for Catechism (the Reformed church version of Confirmation). I'm not talking about scripture; I'm talking about getting a question and memorizing the answer to the question from the Catechism book.

A meaningful, memorable experience for me happened in my 4th grade classroom with Mrs. Hoekstra. Each day, she would sit at the piano, and the class would sing a few hymns and praise choruses. One day, after singing the hymn, "Come Thou Fount," she stopped, swung around to face us, and asked us if we knew what the hymn meant. From there, she explained every line, including what an Ebenezer was. From that point on, I started to really think about the words of the hymns that we sang in church, and I suppose that's why, to this day, hymns are cherished, and "Come Thou Fount" hangs on my living room wall.  Other than that experience, I don't remember a whole lot of explanation regarding other traditional practices.

Then, I started wondering how much Erika could recite of the Apostle's Creed. It's not as common as the Lord's Prayer, and I can't remember the last time we recited it at our church. Just as I started to lament yet another parental failure, I started thinking some more.

During June, I read three different books on prayer. In one of them, the author discussed the fact that the Lord's Prayer was intended as a pattern for the disciples (and the rest of us ) to use when talking with God. The term, Lord's Prayer, seems like a misnomer since it's not a how-to for God; it's the model for us to use to communicate with Him. The author continued to break apart the prayer and talk about the two major divisions of it.

Somewhere along the line (and I am not saying it's bad), churches/denominations decided to include this model (Lord's Prayer) as a liturgical recitation. Forgive me for sounding sacrilegious by making such a statement, but it's like having a volleyball player  recite the basic elements of a good pass. . .and that's it.  Rather than translate the basic elements into action, the volleyball player becomes adept at listing them.

Am I saying that the Lord's Prayer should not be recited? Settle down, and don't get your undies in a bunch. As with any sport, a person, including novices in the faith, has to learn the fundamentals first.

Likewise, let me be the first to say that I have inner bent toward conservatism and traditionalism. As I said, I love hymns, I value the organ, I prefer dressing and acting respectfully in God's house; this means that I value all that has traditionally been sacred and beloved in the church, including the Lord's Prayer and the creeds.

What I am concerned about is how their use affects a person's spiritual development and journey. Let me explain.

As I learned and relayed, the Lord's Prayer was meant to be a pattern for us disciples to follow in talking with God. From what I understand, it was not meant to be the prayer in talking with God. While reciting the prayer is valuable in the fact that it reinforces the pattern, the danger is when it replaces the spiritual conversation and relationship that God longs for with us. Just like the volleyball player learning the basics, eventually, she has to translate the basic elements into action and find the "groove" to make the elements personal for an effective pass. The success of the team depends on it. The same is true of believers and traditional recitations. They have to move from pattern to personal.

The same can be said of the creeds - Apostles and Nicene - as well as the recitations for Confirmation/Catechism. They are statements of belief that, when recited publicly, confirm our commitment and membership in the body of Christ. The problem is when they replace our individual desire and effort to articulate and convey our personal testimonies. While it's easy to recite a creed, it takes more thought, commitment, and courage to relay our personal faith credos.

As to memorizing Scripture, that's a no-brainer. It is God's Holy, infallible Word. In a world of increasingly swirling, muddied values, it is the only tangible tool He has left us in order to defend and preserve the faith. Memorize it like your life depends on it because it does.

So, am I picking a fight? Am I saying that tradition needs to be flushed down the drain? No, I would be the last person to say that, and I would be lying if I told you that this is easy for me to write. However, I am committed to writing what God puts in my mind and on my heart. The bottom line to consider is that it's important to think about the "why" behind the tradition and to ask "if" and "how" the traditional practice is most beneficial to a faith walk. The tragedy is when being faithful to the tradition becomes more important than the faith.