The Form Without the Spirit

I recently visited a prominent Protestant high church cathedral in America's greatest metropolis. Impressive in size and de­sign, and characterized by beauty of structure and ritual of service, the building was over 600 feet in length and more than 300 feet in width at the transepts. The altar was central, of course; and the pulpit to one side. Genuflec­tions, and eVen the sign of the cross, were in prominence. Despite 121,000 feet of floor space and a seating provision for 8,000, there were less than 500 parishioners present that Sunday morning. These were all adults. There were no children, and practically no youth. With robed choir and fully surpliced ministers, the stately form and reverence for which some of our min­isters and musicians sigh, were painfully there. It was respectability, silence, and decorum per­sonified.

The congregation of worshipers were simply spectators of the worship conducted in the choir and sanctuary. Not one in fifty sought to sing the hymns along with the paid choir. That func­tion had been virtually taken over by the highly trained professionals. The ornate liturgical prayer was read, though part of this was allo­cated to the choir. A very ordinary sermon on "Christian Social Relations," likewise read, opened without a text and closed without once mentioning the name of Christ or helping a soul Godward. Cold and stately, it left one with a feeling of utter emptiness. No inspired solu­tion was offered, no divine counsel was given. It was just a typical sociological essay. The en­tire service reminded one of a beautiful corpse, immaculately dressed and beautifully prepared, but dead, without spirit and without life. It was all outer form without the inner reality. No wonder there were only Soo present! Why should they come, only to receive a stone in­stead of living bread?

Thank God for our humble church edifices! Thank God for the sincere informality that makes Christianity real and personal. Thank God that our children and youth are with us, despite a bit of restlessness among the juniors, and the occasional cry of a babe Thank God for prayers spoken from the heart. Thank God for a hymnal that has notes, and for hymn singing in which all participate. Thank God for choirs that voice simple messages of life and truth, of witness and worship Thank God for sermons from a pulpit that is central in the church architecture. And thank God for Christ-centered sermons that move the soul Godward, that deepen spiritual life and fellowship, that inspire to sacrifice and service. Thank God for a mes­sage that is present truth. Thank God for the friendly handclasp at the door, and the spirit of sincere mutual interest marking our services and our churchly associations.

Take your ornate cathedrals and stereotyped forms, your esthetic substitutes for real reli­gion, your vicarious paid music for the spon­taneous outburst of praise from old and young in the church at worship and in service. Give me our own, despite its defects and limitations. Which, think you, does God hear and heed? Which is more acceptable to Him? And which should we laud and emulate? The apostolic ad­monition is to turn away from form without the spirit. Away then with the lavish praise of some for the barren forms of Babylon ! One would think that some restive critics would feel hap­pier and more at home amid the petrified forms of nominal Protestantism. Give us the spirit, the reality, and the life!

L. E. F.