In June 1996, I spent nearly two weeks at Dzilth-na-o-dith-hle. That's the name of a small Navajo town centered around a boarding school and a health center in northwest New Mexico. I was an adult counselor with a group of 53 youth and adults from various Disciples congregations in Indiana.
We drove for two days, spending a night in Okalahoma City on the way, and arrived at Dzilth-na-o-dith-hle late on a Tuesday evening. We were greeted and welcomed by Johnny Henderson, who ran the dorm at the school and who served as our host for our stay. His first words to us were, "the Navajo don't have a religion. We have a way of life."
Prior to the trip, I had done quite a bit of research in preparation for both the trip and my course. What Johnny told us confirmed what I had read. I had read that it is difficult to find Native American words for "religion." I had read that the Navajo would not recognize the dichotomy that exists in our culture between what is spiritual and what is material. And, I had read that "the Navajo Way" means the totality of life, both spiritual and material. There is no separating the two.
However, despite my preparation and despite Johnny's comment to us, I became frustrated in the days that followed. I knew that when I got back to Indiana, that report would be waiting for me; but so far, I was finding it hard to learn about and experience Navajo religion.
Then, about halfway through our stay, it dawned on me: everything that I had experienced so far on the trip was related to Navajo spirituality. I had not recognized it as such, because I was searching for a separate component of Navajo culture that would fit the concept of religion with which I was familiar. This, despite my research, and despite Johnny Henderson's comments that first night, all of which should have prepared me for this realization. I was, in fact, surrounded by--and immersed in--Navajo spirituality, and I didn't even realize it.
What I had been looking for was a system of belief, because that's how my religion, Christianity, had been defined to me. I had been told that Christians are people who believe certain things. Believe this, believe that,... and you're a Christian.
Navajo religion, on the other hand, is not a system of belief. It is, as Johnny said, a way of life. It cannot be separated from other aspects of life, because it encompasses everything.
There is a deep spiritual hunger among people today; but what most people are looking for is not a system of belief. They're looking for a way of life, one that gives life meaning and purpose; a way of life that connects them to the universe and to the creator.
And so they are looking to Native American spirituality. They are looking to Buddhism as well; books on Buddhism just fly off the bookstore shelves these days. In their search for faith as a way of life, they're not looking to Christianity, because in many ways, Christianity has lost its way.
In Christianity, they see arguments over beliefs, but very little Christian living. They hear a lot of people speaking against this or that, but very few people living for anything.
It wasn't always so. You may know that the earliest Christians were called "followers of the way." For them, Christianity wasn't just a system of beliefs; it was a way of life. Christianity wasn't just what they believed in; it was how they lived. It was who they were.
And to help them follow the way of Christianity, they engaged in a number of practices. Some of these practices are a part of many lives today, but others have all but disappeared. They include: worship, fasting, Bible study, prayer, sabbath, service, tithing, and observance of the liturgical year.
Why have Christians engaged in these practices throughout history? They do it for the same reason athletes train. They do it for the same reason that musicians practice. It takes effort to become what you want to be. It takes work. Do you want to be a better Christian? Do you want to grow in faith? Do you want to live a life of meaning, a life of wholeness, a life of abundance, the life that God wants you to live? If so, then you need to train for it. And practices help.
When I was in eleventh grade, I felt my first earthquake. It happened during my first period American Literature class. As soon as my classmates and I felt the ground begin to shake, we knew what to do: immediately, we crawled under our desks and covered our heads, as we had practiced in our drills.
Not long after that, I felt my second earthquake. This one happened in the middle of the night. I was in bed, but when the shaking woke me up, I lay there, unsure of what to do. Actually, I knew that I should probably find my way under a table or desk or to a doorframe. But I had never practiced what to do at home in an earthquake, and laying there, in bed, frightened, I could not get my body to move. I knew what I should od, but I had not practiced doing it, and when the critical moment came, I found that I could not do it.
In the book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell chronicled the lives of several people who were masters at what they did. He analyzed the lives of star atheletes, premier violinists, and even Bill Gates. He wondered what led them to succeed, to excel, to be the best in the world at what they do.
The answer, he discovered, was practice. Each of them had spent approximately 10,000 hours practicing their craft before they became masters at it. That's a lot of practicing. If you somehow managed to practice four hours every day, seven days a week, with no days off, it would take almost seven years to reach 10,000 hours.
Needless to say, the things these people did was more than just a hobby. It was more than something they did on the weekends. It was their life. The athletes that are now gathered in Vancouver for the Winter Olympics: training isn't a part of their lives. To be an Olympian, training is your life.
In the same way, following Christ isn't a part of the lives of Christians; following Christ is their way of life.
The ancient practices of our faith are designed to help make faith a way of life. And when faith becomes a way of life, life becomes whole, abundant, filled with meaning--just the way God intended it to be.
Not everyone wants faith to be their way of life; some people are perfectly content with compartmentalizing it, dividing their life into what is holy and what is not; dividing their soul, if you will. Others want faith to be their way of life, but they don't want to work for it.
Well, it doesn't work that way. Faith requires practice; another word for practice is discipline, which, of course, is related to the word disciple.
Many of the practices you can do by yourself: prayer, fasting, tithing. You don't need to organize a group of people together to do these things. In fact, it is often better to do these things privately, at least most of the time.
But one of these spiritual practices is not like that. One of these practices requires two or three people, at least, to gather together. That practice is worship.
Three of the disciples were with Jesus when he was transfigured. Jesus was God's son. You'd think he could have gone up on the mountain alone. You'd think he wouldn't need help to do any of the things he did. And yet, he was frequently taking two or three or twelve disciples with him wherever he went.
On that mountaintop, God was revealed in Jesus in a very powerful way. On that mountaintop, that group of disciples worshiped. Then they came down from the mountain and began serving those in need, which, some would say, is an even more authentic form of worship.
I know--and you probably do, too--people who believe in God, good people, people who may even pray to God, but who don't go to church; people who are content to practice their religion on their own, in their own way.
Well, imagine a violinist who practiced every day--perhaps even four hours every day--but who never had a teacher. Imagine a violinist who played the violin every day, but never had the chance to practice or play with an orchestra.
Imagine a hockey player who practiced shooting the puck over and over for hours on end. If your team ever needed someone to take a penalty shot, or if you found yourself in a shoot-out, he'd be your man! But put him into the game, and he wouldn't be able to pass, and God help him when the opposing team comes after him.
To worship, you need a community.
Our worship is given shape and form by the liturgy. In some churches, like the Roman Catholic church or the Episcopal church, the liturgy is very rigid and formal. In our congregation, the liturgy is more relaxed and informal.
Liturgy includes all that we do in worship. It refers to the shape of the worship itself. The prayers, the call to worship, the readings and the responses are all a part of the liturgy.
The word "liturgy" literally means "the work of the people." Worship is work. It requires the participation of everyone present. Unlike some of the other spiritual practices, it requires that we bring ourselves to a specific place at a specific time, whether or not that place and time are convenient for us.
Worship requires preparation. We need to get ourselves ready to come to worship. Some people like to meditate or pray before they come, to prepare their hearts and minds for worship. And certainly, those who lead us in worship take time to prepare.
In worship, we get to practice some of the most important qualities of a Christian way of life: love; hospitality; sharing peace with one another. We greet one another, we welcome strangers, we pray for one another.
This is our training for life. We practice it here, much like a hockey player practices passing and scoring, much like school children practice ducking under their desks. We practice love, hospitality, and sharing peace here in worship so that we will be able to practice love, hospitality and sharing peace the rest of the week.
And then, just as the disciples came down from the mountain and began serving those in need, so are we sent out from this place of worship, to do the work God calls us to do; the work that some would say is an even more authentic form of worship.
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