Ebenezer's Coffeehouse (a.k.a., National Community Church)

If I were to make a list of things I have never seen before in a church service, they would go like this:

1. A church building where the first floor is a coffee shop, and where after you buy your latte you go downstairs to the "worship space."

2. Six (count 'em, 6) screens all flashing the "theme" of the service (in this case, it was called Garden to City), alternated with the translucent, screen-saver-esque church logo.

3. A grid of theater lights not unlike what you see in the Gordon black box theater - and a stage area with colored lights that softly faded in and out.

4. A church bulletin where there was no list of hymns, songs, prayers, or liturgy (but an artful, collegiate-looking list of the church's many locations and a link to their head pastor's blog).

5. A pastor wearing torn jeans and a plaid Quiksilver collared shirt and funky framed glasses.

6. An offering plate that was a recycled burlap sack.

7. A "welcome box" that looked like an old-fashioned popcorn box but that included glossy brochures about the church and a book to help with your spiritual growth.

Welcome to Ebenezer's Coffeehouse, or, as it's actually known, National Community Church.

There's something ironic about the name of this church. Isn't "National Community" at least sort of oxymoronic? How can something be a community church (which to me at least implies a local, relatively close knit group of people) also be national? They are "One church. Multiple locations." Wait. Doesn't that mean you are multiple churches? One church with several wings? One church that moves from location to location?

My confusion wasn't aided as I sat down and saw lattes, cappuccinos, and iced green teas nestled next to purses, messenger bags, their owners Toms shoes peeking out from underneath their artfully ripped skinny jeans. I skimmed the program and, finding no hint of either hymns or contemporary worship songs, I turned to the back cover. The back cover addressed me in a friendly-with-a-hint-of-overly-personal tone.

"Expect the unexpected." Well, I thought, I got that one down. "Irrelevance is irreverence." Ummm... don't know what that means but I will think about it later, since the intro music is getting to an increasingly loud volume. "Love people when they least expect it and least deserve it. Playing it safe is risky. Pray like it depends on God and work like it depends on you... It's never too late to be who you might have been."

The lights dim. We all stand up. What follows is roughly my thoughts for the first twenty minutes.

It's a Saturday night, the light is streaming in the window by the emergency exit stairs, and I'm at sea. A blonde woman takes the microphone and several other people take the stage, strum their guitars, tap their drumsticks and suddenly a song has started! I'm late into singing the words. I can barely read the words because the image behind them (of a tree becoming a lamppost) has distracted me. Wait, they're changing key! I can't keep up! Ummm, sing Hilary, sing! Do I put my hands in the air? Do I keep my arms folding? Can the blonde singer see that I don't know the words? I think she can! Oh no! Another song has been introduced! Late again. I think the blonde singer knows I don't know this one. She is whispering into the microphone as they slow down. The girl in front of me is bobbing her heels in time with the drummer. How does she already know to sway with this song, but clap to that song? Is there a secret earbud in everyone's ears telling them what to do? Okay, now the pastor is getting up, and making some jokes, and I think he's going to pray... oh yes there it is. He is praying - and I think my arms are supposed to be stretched out right now... ummmm, I still don't know where we are in the service, but he has pulled up a bar stool and a music stand and looks like he's going to tell more jokes about his trip to the Grand Tetons and how we need to be like Habakkuk... is it Habbakuk, Habakkuk? I don't remember how to spell that but I guess I'll take notes on it.

Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. As I begin what is likely a long processing period about the contemporary church, my first question is: what does it mean, "irrelevance is irreverence."? Irrelevant to whom? By what standard? Would St. Aquinas, Augustine, Benedict be considered irrelevant? Do Dante and Flannery O'Connor and Pope John Paul II count as "relevant" to this church? How do we measure relevance - and should that be our first priority?

Voca-what?: Talking about Vocation

I'm in the city of Washington, DC for many reasons. I want to see the "halls of power" that are written and rewritten in everything from popular crime novels to studies about Christianity in the political sphere, to newspapers and CNN special reports. I want to hear the stories of the poor and the rich. I want to know what it's like to write research proposals and send them out into the world, knowing that the small stapled packet will likely end up on an intern's desk and be reviewed in a building that you could walk to from your small apartment.

I want to know why this city attracts the 20-somethings of our generation: is it because we are more decisive than other emerging adults, or less? Is working here about putting on mantles of responsibility, or leaving them in the closet while we add internships and entry-level work to our résumés?

My mind was bursting with these questions when I arrived. What I was not expecting when I came to Washington, DC was to be asking myself whether or not I am called to be here. At first even the question sounds silly: no one picked up a heavenly telephone and tapped into my cell phone, saying, "Hello Hilary, this is an angel of the Lord speaking. Please report to Gate C at Logan Airport to fulfill your call to be at the American Studies Program, Fall 2010. Thank you for listening. This is a recording. In a few moments this message will repeat. To disconnect now, press Star."

Yet everyone seems to "get" this concept of vocation.When I look around me during lectures or guest speakers, I see people nodding and taking copious notes. Sometimes I see people shake their heads, clearly uncertain about how this person's view of "vocation" fits with what they've been taught. But I'm sitting there in my Massachusetts, liberal-artsy, Anglican pants, hearing different theological takes on vocation, different vocabularies about vocation, and after a while the word "vocation" sounds more and more like, "vacation" which has more than once led my mind to thinking about sunny beaches and bodysurfing in the Caribbean (okay, maybe the bodysurfing is a bit out there, since I'm by no means an outdoorsy girl).

Where did this word even come from? I have heard of it in classes at Gordon, in discussions with participants of the Elijah Project (which focuses intentionally and intensely on vocation), but I don't know if I've ever really asked what it means. And now, as I'm sitting in Washington DC on pins and needles about starting my internship, I am confused about why I'm asking questions about being "called" to be in politics or being "gifted and called" with a mind for policy or law. Have I, in my academic towers of ethics or philosophy or the humanities, missed the boat on being called to jobs, apartments, cities, spouses? When I was asking whether or not intrinsic good lurked in humanities and literature, in science and math, should I have instead been asking where I was "called by God to go"?

I wasn't sure I was meant to be here when I arrived. I didn't have that feeling of certainty when I got off the airplane. I don't, even now, feel necessarily "called" to this semester. And since arriving and starting this unit on "Leadership and Vocation," I am less and less convinced that I am even asking the right question. If I spend all this time and energy examining whether or not I am "called" (literally or metaphorically), then what am I doing about just being here, being faithful to what I see in front of me? What if, as students of Christian colleges, we are asking the wrong question?

I have no doubt that vocation is a word that has serious meaning, for Christians and non-Christians alike. I have no doubt that it deserves time and attention, and I'm thankful that I get the opportunity to enter the conversation about vocation in a place where I never expected to see it. So my first question to the other participants of this conversation is, What questions are we supposed to ask about vocation? What questions get at the meaning of vocation? Where do I begin to look?

I'm excited to hear what you think!

Hilary

A Picture is Worth...

... Several thousand of my words. Enjoy.