Liturgical Inertia

Do you remember the physical law of inertia from junior high school science class? "A body at rest tends to remain at rest, and a body in motion tends to remain in motion, unless acted upon by some outside force." A second definition is "resistance to motion, action, or change." In the church we are often witness to examples of liturgical inertia.

Some years ago I took a church group to a Bill Gaither concert. We were seated in the front of the balcony in a large concert hall with a great view of the performers and the crowd below us. During that stage of the Gaithers' career, which was long before the current Homecoming Concerts that he does, the program consisted of a variety of solos, duets, the Gaither Trio, the Gaither Vocal Band, and other guest artists, with a liberal amount of storytelling and humor in the mix. One standard feature of the program was a time when Gloria Gaither spoke, something like a sermon with a point, but much more conversational and personal than most formal worship service sermons. She would speak for twenty minutes or so and the crowd would be brought along with her emotionally, complete with tears. Gloria's talk was always followed by a slow and expressive song that the audience joined, and gradually the musical tempo and feel was raised back to one of joy and celebration as the concert concluded. During the concert that we attended, at the end of Gloria's talk, a man on the floor below us had a heart attack. People around him tried to render assistance. There was scrambling and commotion as they called for a doctor. All of this was mostly drowned out by the rising volume of the music on stage and the musicians' attempts to lead the people in celebration. The disconnect between what was happening on stage and in the audience was profound. Through it all, I saw no attempt by anyone in the crowd to get the singers' attention, to interrupt the show, to seek help from center stage. It was as if not interrupting a Bill Gaither concert was more important than trying to help save a dying man. The man had been taken to a hospital and the concert had nearly ended before word reached Gaither. His response was to express deep regret for it, to apologize for not being aware of it, and to lead the crowd in prayer for the man and his family.

What kept people from stopping the Gaithers mid-song to seek help? Was it the setting, the personalities, the not inexpensive ticket prices? What was it that made it more important to preserve the performance, even in a crowd of mostly concerned, compassionate Christians? Was the music or the star power more important than suspending the celebration and coming together around this tragedy to seek help and offer prayer? The concert at that point certainly displayed inertia. It was speeding to a high conclusion, and even a medical emergency could not bring people to act to stop it.

In a recent Sunday service in a large, stone, Gothic structure with a resonant but cavernous sanctuary, the lectern microphone didn't work throughout the service. When the elderly staff minister started the service with the greeting, few heard him and fewer understood him. The same was true for the scripture lessons and the brief talk about the special offering. The microphone in the pulpit, however, worked just fine and the sermon was heard by all. Why didn't one of the four ministers and liturgists stop the service and suggest moving from lecturn to pulpit? Why didn't the sound technician come down from the balcony with a substitute wireless microphone? Why didn't the music director intervene? The answer was inertia. Once the service had begun, no one was willing to intervene, to change the circumstances, to interrupt what was happening so that we could actually hear the announcements, participate meaningfully in the liturgy, and listen to the scripture being read. Instead we all just sat — a body at rest tends to remain at rest.

Two examples of liturgical inertia that could have been easily overcome for the better had someone simply taken action. Inertia ruled the day for lack of an intervening outside force — a body at rest tends to remain at rest, and a body in motion tends to remain in motion, unless acted upon by some outside force.

Where is inertia at work, for good or ill, in your church? in your life? Are there times and occasions when you could be that outside force working to overcome inertia?