Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Pulpits

No matter how much I love the look and "feel" of pulpits, I can't help but acknowledge that I only like the pulpits that are filled by me - which right now is none. And if I only like them if they're filled by me, then there really isn't any good reason for me to like them.

Pulpits are symbols of authority. They are armored. They are bulwarks, or towers. They are impregnable. They are raised above the common folk. The words from the pulpit come down to the people from above, as if from God.

The preacher's location during the sermon can say a good bit about what kind of relations are idealized. If the preacher is set apart, or above, then along with the content of his sermon he's communicating the idea that his sermon must be true (or is more likely to be true) by virtue of his office.

If his location is to present his words as they are, which is as the words of just another man, then it has to be on the same level as and not too far away from the congregation, and it can't be marked by a wall or reading desk that looks like a battlement or any other thing that looks like it's supposed to protect him from riff raff.

It shouldn't even be a chair on a platform, because that looks like a throne in a court.

The best location for a preacher is at the end of a table. Yes, a table. I think pews or rows of seats in an auditorium or "sanctuary" should be replaced by a dining table. Religious observances should celebrate those things that give life value. And so, the ritual that is most pleasurable and most accessible, and thus most able to bind a number of people in an enriching relationship and to express the goodness of that interaction, and which is thereby the most sacred kind of ritual possible, is a meal. In the Esaian church this meal is to be vegan (veganic if possible). If it is the tradition to have meals while sitting on the floor, as is common in the eating halls of gurdwaras even today, then the preacher is to sit on the floor with everybody else.

Of course, the preacher's role is minimal. Outside the communion hall he should start by giving thanks to no one in particular for the sunshine, and for the rain, and should make a wish for rain, as appropriate. Once inside the dining hall he sits down with the others and after a beat (that is, a very short pause) he gives his sermon, which should be like an oral blog entry on what's on his mind. After a few volunteers help him set the table and serve the food, he blesses the meal, or asks someone to bless it. The blessing should be short and sweet, like "We give thanks for the food before us, and for the hands that made it. May our next few moments together be a warm time of fellowship. Amen." And that's it. Preacher's role fini. After that they get down to the real business of the service, which is eating and chatting.

2 comments:

  1. Couldn't a pulpit also be something to set a speaker's notes and Bible on? Could it not be elevated so people can see the person speaking?

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  2. Thanks for reading, Mike, and thanks for sharing your thoughts. I think as long as the preacher is sitting at the end of the table, people would be able to see him. And the table can act as the lectern he sets his notes on. If they're sitting on the ground, people can sit in a circle, and if he wants a lectern he can get a really really small one. Being able to read your own notes and being seen are important considerations, but I think it's best that they be met in a way that consciously avoids elitism.

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I am a part-time philosopher and a former immigration paralegal with a BA in philosophy and a paralegal certificate from UC San Diego.