About the time the green LBW was being introduced in 1978 across North America, Lutherans of a number of persuasions were learning how to enter into Christ’s holy mission with Christians of other traditions, not to mention with each other. It was heady time as well as puzzling, for much was changing for the Church and society. The Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) had substantially shifted the global religious landscape by its surprising call for all people of faith to work, pray, study, and serve God’s kingdom more closely together – something called ecumenism. The scandal of Christian divisions, misunderstandings, and distrust were officially on the table to be addressed and wherever possible, rectified. Scholars strove to align the worship patterns of Christians more closely, at first among those who had ancient, historic ties. Lutherans played an active role. The LBW reflected that work in important ways, striving “…to restore to Holy Baptism the liturgical rank and dignity implied by Lutheran theology, and to draw out the baptismal motifs in such acts as the confession of sin and the burial of the dead; to continue to move into the larger ecumenical heritage of liturgy while, at the same time, enhancing Lutheran convictions about the Gospel; to involve lay persons as assisting ministers who share the leadership of corporate worship; to bring the language of prayer and praise into conformity with the best current usage; to offer a variety of musical styles” [Introduction, p. 8]. Sound familiar?
What was most surprising and even unsettling was experiencing the “move into the larger ecumenical heritage of liturgy…,” which, to be blunt, was learning to give up our obsession with “that’s the way we’ve always done it!” [a.k.a. The Seven Last Words of the Church]. Arriving at Holy Week in the green book was when the piper demanded pay. Looking at the liturgical heading of that palm-waving Sunday of brass bands and parades, we read (in red letters, mind you!) Sunday of the Passion / Palm Sunday (Palm Sunday in dinky type). The appointed readings were far longer (never a comfortable sign) and newly supplied instructions for “doing” the day seemed to rain on our (and maybe Jesus’) parade. We LIKED the palm waving processions and our children screaming “Hosannah!” We LIKED giving King Jesus the high-five and letting him have his time in the limelight – after all, he was not going to have a pleasant end to Holy Week. But the appointed gospel pressed us on beyond party hats and parades. “Stop! Quit reading!” …but the reading took us on to the Garden, the cross, and tomb. The pomp and majesty of King Jesus’ festal entry into Jerusalem was quickly swept away.
Another aspect of the liturgical change outlined in the LBW Introduction was to enhance “…Lutheran convictions about the Gospel.” And here is the heart of our disgruntlement. During this Lenten season and before we have heard Jesus repeatedly making full disclosures regarding the shape and means of his mission. He apparently will go to inordinate length to save and redeem God’s broken and dying creation of which we are most certainly a part. Jesus’ honesty may be hard to bear, but it is necessary for us to hear all sides of the story. Peter’s attempt to talk Jesus out of his mission is met with a quick and thundering rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan!” [2nd Sunday in Lent] We also run the risk of that rebuke due to our preference for party hats and a big parade, Jesus, but please don’t bother about the other stuff. However, Jesus knows of our anxieties and fear of being overwhelmed by our own mortality, so he has never stopped finding ways to help us understand his own share in our plight: wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business [KJV]? The Spirit, our Advocate, will not leave us “comfortless.” Our communities of faith bear witness to God’s faithfulness and care. The Gospel itself really is Good News that brings us the courage to repent – change our perspective, – believe, and listen to that wondrous news [1st Sunday in Lent].
About the time materials for the LBW were being collected, Canadian songwriter Joni Mitchell wrote her ballad Both Sides Now. It is a gentle, wistful reminder that we often try to pick and choose just the happy bits of life, thus losing much in the process. It’s life’s illusions I recall / I really don’t know life at all… As Mitchell continues to reflect in her ballad, she knows she’ll remain haunted by those illusions, but she begins to see beyond them: [Old friends…] shake their heads, they say I’ve changed / Well something’s lost, but something’s gained / In living every day… King Jesus calls us to abandon our illusions and enter into the abundant life that only the God of love offers [4th Sunday in Lent]. Maybe we can dare to join an equally puzzled Centurion this Sunday at the foot of the cross long after the parade had ended, the palms withered and dry. He finally has an inkling about this puzzling King on a cross: “Truly this man was God’s Son!” [Mark 15:39b]