The opening lines to the welcome meeting in grad school included something like, "
as undergraduates you were consumers of scholarly writings, but now you will learn to produce this work for others to read." This distinction between
consumer/reader/listener/student and
producer/author/maker applies equally well to Sunday morning worship experiences: most sit back and expect to receive some truths, or some beauty and mystery. But a few set forward, on the edge of the seat or are poised ready to jot ideas and margin notes to the words sung or spoken. Those interactive worshipers constitute a third category: neither consumer entirely, nor fully ready to take the podium and hold forth on a subject. Maybe the best word for those who go beyond just listening is '
bricoleur'. This term was readapted by Claude Levi-Straus to mean the way that people creatively take the things found in their environment and use them for whatever purpose is at hand. In today's Internet language this is the idea of 'repurposing' a tool or material in a way different to what it originally was intended for. So while a brick was meant for building with mortar, it can also be piled up to form a temporary base for grilling over hot coals.And while a paper milk carton holds milk. Later the bright design may be used for craft or decorative purpose. Just so with the words and images of a worship service: when an active listener takes them from the confines of the worship hall out into the world of one's lived experience, sometimes a creative bricolage results: the old idea takes on new meaning or insight in the new situation.
Normally a person wends his or her way to the weekly worship and cycles through a similar routine of stand up, sit down, sing, sing, sing. A certain satisfaction comes from finding things week to week much the same; expectations are fulfilled, appetites are satisfied instead of merely being whetted to make one's hunger grow stronger. Taking the role of consumer who comes to the place of worship in order to pick something up, all attention is directed outward and forward, looking out for the desired elements. And yet, what if things are quite the reverse; as Leo Tolstoy's title declares,
The Kingdom of God is within You.
The Lord's Prayer's pray says ...[and may it be that] Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. So if this
kingdom of God is within you, then the Sunday worshipers are misdirecting their gaze. Instead of looking in front of them to the person in the pulpit or the singer near the altar space, the congregants would do better to look inside themselves! Assembling for weekly shared praise and thanksgiving should not be about taking one's seat and sitting back to consume what has been prepared. Instead it should be more like a potluck feast, in which all attending will have prepared something to share; and for the communal benefit. If we cannot all be producers, at least we all can be bricoleurs who take the elements of our lives and readapt them for use in the work of building spiritual growth in ourselves and others.
In other words, practically everybody is accustomed to attending church with the expectation that "it" [the thing they may be actively searching for, or the thing that motivated them long ago to begin seeking and now is only the echo of that original seeking cry] can be found in the time and place of a particular sanctuary during the worship service. In other words, the "it" that they seek is assumed to be external and requires looking to the front of the sanctuary. But suppose all these externals of the Order of Service and the design of the interior spaces merely are a kind of scaffolding that arranges the flow of experience and participation such that a person has an entryway into an interior place of reflection and risking and resolving to hold a certain attitude and enact certain plans or a readiness to seize certain opportunities when they should arise. What if the whole institutional worshiping exercise is something of a mirror to one's own heart? That is, what if
the kingdom of God is within you? In that case, all the externals are in support of that greater and ultimate site of spiritual construction: one's heart (and mind)? Church, then, is not a place to go for answers, but merely the arrangement of equipment and tools and mentors that can help each person to do their own workout. Church is not for spectators but for players; not for consumers but for producers and bricoleurs; it is for participating. It is as
George Fox wrote in his 1660 autobiography: each person has the authority and wherewithal to engage with God and his or her Neighbor; to grow in these relationships by a heart of love.