I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD!"

It was only a cartoon, but there was some truth to the humor. One of the graves in the churchyard cemetery was occupied by a pastor who had died rather young. His epitaph on the gravestone read: "Our Beloved Pastor. May he rest in peace." And then just below, "He tried to change the liturgy." For those who so choose, Sunday morning is a time to gather and luxuriate in familiar surroundings, worshipping our unchanging God in a changing world. And as we gather, it is in the midst of a community of people we know and love (or at least try to). We enjoy familiar hymns, and God help the worship leader who tries to foist off four unfamiliar hymns on the same Sunday morning! And then there is the liturgy; the order of worship. And I thank God this morning that we are not changing the liturgy, merely the musical setting. At the same time, I've finally acquired enough wisdom to realize that even this can be a bit disconcerting as it may take some of us from our comfort zones.

I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD!"

There was a sense of awe when people entered the sanctuary of the Temple. The Rabbis had this saying, "Jerusalem is the center of the universe. The Temple is the center of Jerusalem. The altar, the Holy of Holies, is the center of the Temple. And God is at the center of the Holy of Holies. No wonder people were glad to go to worship. They did not have to go to worship; they got to go to worship. And that made all the difference. At worship they just knew they were in the Presence of God in a very mystical and very special way. Oh, the sense of awe and majesty when they stepped from the bustling city into the quiet sanctuary. It was a place so special - a bit of heaven on earth. Our sanctuary has a bit of majesty about it also ... the high ceiling, the stained glass, the beautiful woodwork. But my friends, even the lowliest of store front churches can summon, ought to summon, the same sense of awe. For the church is a place set aside, intentionally, to encounter the living God. Do you feel you are in the mystical presence of God in this sanctuary? If you do not - I think I might know why.

I just finished a book by Dr. Thomas Long. "Beyond the Worship Wars - Building Vital and Faithful Worship." In one of the chapters, Long repeats a story by Harry Golden, a popular writer in mid-Twentieth Century America. Harry's father was a fixture at worship at the local synagogue. When the doors were open ... Harry's father was there. His father was also very vocal about the fact he was an agnostic. He was not quite convinced there was a God; nevertheless, each Friday evening he was at worship. When he was a teenager, Harry questioned his father on the inconvenient fact of his agnosticism. "You say you're an agnostic, but you always go to synagogue. Why?" And his father answered, "Son there are many reasons a person goes to synagogue. Take Silverburg. He goes to talk to God. Me? I go to talk to Silverburg."

And the conclusion Long draws from this is that you and I tend to come to worship, not only to be in the presence of God, but to be in the midst of community. We go to church, not only to talk to God, but to talk with Silverburg. However, if we emphasize too much the talking with Silverburg, we might just miss the conversation with God. My friends, I perceive this to be a problem here at Grace.

To restate the obvious, this is the first Sunday in Advent ... New year's Day on the Church calendar. Advent. It is a four week time of preparation for the coming of Christ. Not only getting ready for Christmas. That's the least of it. But properly observed, Advent is a time of special spiritual readiness for that day when Jesus shall come again. Our three readings have that emphasis this morning. But this being New Year's Day and all, I've made a special resolution that I hope you'll buy into. The resolution grows out of one of my favorite Psalms, the one read this morning, Psalm 122, "I was glad when they said to me, 'Let us go to the house of the LORD!'" When I was a child, each Sunday at Cleveland Hill Lutheran in Cheektowaga, Mr. Echole, the Sunday School superintendent, opened Sunday School with that phrase, "I was glad when they said unto me...," and we would almost yell in response, "Let us go to the house of the Lord!" If our worship experience points us toward Jesus Christ, and that future when Jesus will come again, then taking time in a sermon to talk about our worship life at Grace seems very appropriate.

A colleague, a Roman Catholic priest, tells me, "when the liturgy is over and I say, 'Go, the Mass is ended,' I might as well be saying, 'gentleman, start your engines.' The rush to get out of the parking lot is raucous." We Lutherans are different. I say, "Go in peace, serve the Lord," and the rush is on for the coffee and to engage Silverburg in conversation. And that's fine. I'm actually kind of proud of the amount of coffee we serve on a Sunday morning. I call it a "ministry of hospitality," and as far as ministry goes, it's a good one.

One of our goals when we built our new church building was to create space for fellowship and hospitality. The hallways are wide and the new narthex area is open and inviting; people stop in for coffee in the fellowship hall before worship and remain following worship. However, what we have gained in hospitality, I believe, what we have gained in hospitality is more than counter-balanced by what we have lost in spirituality. We like talking with Silverburg so much we sometimes lose sight that we are here first and foremost, to engage God in conversation. This is the culture of Grace I'd like to see change. And the change won't come because I feel it would be beneficial to our worship experience ... it needs to be a shared yearning for such a change among us all. Maybe the biggest problem is that most people don't perceive there is a problem. We are so accustomed to how we do worship at Grace ... that we have lost sight of the need to slow down, and catch our breath. "I was glad when they said to me, 'Let us go to the house of the LORD," writes the Psalmist. Who also wrote, "Be still, and know that I am God."

Try this analogy with the pastor as shepherd. When it is time to eat and receive nourishment, a real shepherd out in the fields will not usually have to round up the sheep. The sheep are hungry and they know where to find sustenance. Not here. Here the pastor, the shepherd, has to round up the flock who have circled the coffee pots, or are greeting friends in the hallways, or chatting in the narthex. If folks are in the pews ... again with the conversation! A few weeks ago I was listening to the organist play softly just prior to the service ... and people in the pews were greeting one another and carrying on conversations. And then the organ got a bit louder ... forcing people to talk a bit louder and instead of the prelude setting a tone for the grandeur of worship, it was less grandeur and more Grand Central. And I'm told that people carry on conversations throughout the service.

Now, I'm not scolding - this is our culture at Grace. But, don't you agree we have lost something important to our worship experience? We are here to do more than drink coffee and talk with Silverburg. Most of us, I presume, are here to be fed and nourished with the Word of God. And to my way of thinking, and in conversation I know a lot of you agree, it's a bit of a distraction when people rush in at the eleventh hour ... which tends to be two minutes after eleven. And so, here is my New Year's resolution ... or at least a modest proposal.

Beginning next Sunday we'll have the ushers handing out bulletins outside the twin doors leading into the narthex ... and there will be a sign reminding us to be silent as we enter the sanctuary. The organist will be playing a soft prelude, also setting the mood for worship. That's the easy part. The more difficult part is more people being aware of the time and reminding others, "Hey worship begins soon, let us go to the house of the Lord." What I'd like to hear from the pews before worship is the glorious sounds of silence ... as the organist plays on. And what would the silence in the pews indicate? Perhaps that people are talking with God rather than Silverburg.

Although I'm not trying to be a Scrooge here, let me conclude with this vision of the future. When I pass from this life, I anticipate that my ashes will be spread in the memorial garden. There will be no headstone and no epitaph. However, if my modest intentions to improve worship life at Grace meet with failure, this is what I am proposing. I'd like to have a shelf in the main hallway of Grace. Upon that shelf, I'd like an urn shaped like an hourglass. And in that hourglass I'd like my ashes. And when a visitor comes to Grace and wonders about that hourglass, someone could say, "Ah yes. The remains of our pastor. Nice chap. He died of the My Fair Lady Syndrome." "The My Fair Lady Syndrome?"  "Yep, the My Fair Lady Syndrome. It ruined his health when he just could not get us to the church on time!"