Special Prayers, Part 2

One of our bishops (I should know his name but I do not) invited us to pray in a way that is, he says, a popular form of prayer in Korea (the bishop was, in fact, Korean). He called it Tongsung Kido.

All of us were invited to stand, and pray aloud in our first language, all our deepest prayers for this Conference. The whole Council of Bishops clustered on the dais, held hands and led the prayers.

Again, I noticed a certain resistance to the invitation on the part of a good number of the delegates, who remained seated (some checking their phones).

I do not think there is a resistance to prayer itself (I hope not, though at least one has confessed to me that the prayers seems agenda- rather than Spirit driven), or if it is a reluctance to go beyond familiar forms (a “values-based decision” instead of an “aspiration-based decision”).

Indeed some are uncomfortable with forms of prayer and worship that are not customary to them. But if some have suspicion that they are being herded by our practices today, I found myself thinking that Tongsung Kido is, by another name, "chorus praying," and familiar to me from the days when I did revival  preaching in the mountains of Western North Carolina.

Everybody praying loudly aloud, and one time the host pastor asked me to "lead" the prayer. HOW? By being louder than the others. But I tried, and sure enough, when I said, "For we pray in the name of Jesus Christ..." the volume immediately muted to a hum and everyone, as if on cue, said "Amen."

Didn't feel new to me at all, in other words.

We ended the "public" session with Holy Communion (delegates have more orientation and training to do). It was quite moving, for two reasons.

One, as a part of Passing the Peace, a bishop who had been part of the Commission on the Way Forward talked of the hard discussions, disagreements, strained relationships that inevitably resulted from 17 months of intense work. Before their final Communion together (as they concluded their work), the Convener, she said, "gave us a time for any repair work that needs to be done. She invited us to go to others on the Commission and say, "_____________, if I have done anything, intentionally and unintentionally, to harm you, please forgive me. May be the peace of Christ be with you." What a wonderful, reconciling moment.
 
Then we received the elements and were anointed with oil. A North American Bishop served me bread: "Tom, the Body of Christ given for you. Amen." And African bishop held before me the Chalice: "Tom, the Blood of Christ poured out for you," in such a rich, beautiful accent that hearing it I broke into tears. Then, a European bishop, I think German, who anointed me with oil: "The blessing of the father, the Son and the Holy Spirit be yours. Go, be a blessing to others." And now I was crying freely. 

We left a few minutes later. In the lobby, serenading our exit, was an impromptu choir all sporting rainbow stoles and hats and such... Like others, I stood to watch for a moment or two.

Only then, leaving The Dome, we ran into this: I suspect that this will be our lives the next few days: in between the voices.

Bishop Gary Mueller had told us the story of his father, who was very sick and said it was easy to live joyously when you have your health. But when you are sick you have to muster faith to keep believing.

Another bishop had led us in ten minutes of Silent Prayer,  reminding us that Silence is God's first language (St. John of the Cross). It would be easy, I guess, to scream at the screamers (for my part I crossed by on the other side, as it were, and made my way toward the hotel), but better to pray (chorus prayer might be an option on the street!), and keep silence, and confess our own sins, and pray to be blessed to be a blessing.

One more thing... and I am embarrassed to admit it. But it is Saturday. Been a long day. Tennessee lost. I am having PRS withdrawal. So instead of heading straight back to the hotel, I stopped in a place I saw along the way: Hamburger Mary's. You can look it up on Google. I will say no more about it except that I am glad the street preachers were behind me when I chose to get a beer here.