I can still hear it ringing in my ears—the lyrics of a song from one of my favorite musicals, Fiddler on the Roof. Tradition, tradition! Tradition!, sung by (who else?) the Papa—Tevye. It was a comic and, at the same time, touching cry for keeping life the same, honoring the past and not messing with it, so to speak. What became plain from the song and served as the storyline’s principle conflict, was that what was meaningful to Tevye was not necessarily a universally held view.
For Papa, his role was clear: scramble for a living, say his daily prayers. And, as master of the house, his word was final. After all, it was tradition.
What about Mama? Her assignment? Know how to make a proper home (a quiet, kosher home), raise the family and run the home. Why? So Papa could be free to read the holy books. After all, it’s tradition.
As for the sons, pretty simple stuff: start school early, learn a trade, hope those who pick your bride for you find someone who is easy on the eyes. And for the daughters, the formula couldn’t be simpler: learn to mend and tend and fix while you wait for the bloke that Papa picks.
It all made for a humorous tug of war between two generations, but in the end the tension wasn’t so much about having traditions, but what makes them meaningful?
So it is with the family of faith when we seek to pass on what experiences should be universally treasured, as opposed to what is valued by certain individuals. In some churches, traditions are maintained that were, at one time, valued by the vast majority, but now are recycled simply because “we’ve always done it that way.” Contrast that with the fellowships which never do the same thing the same way twice, simply because of the fear that “if it’s not new, it’s irrelevant.”
Coming from a very traditional, ritualistic even, church background, I understand this concern. There is a commonly held axiom in communication that to the extent that something is familiar, it loses its impact. Said another way, the more we know what’s coming, the less intently or expectantly we receive or anticipate it. I still recall singing portions of the liturgy (the repetitious and routine parts of the worship service) as a child while, at the same time, looking around the room, waving to late-comers, or wondering why I had worn one brown shoe and one black. Imagine the impact of the words, Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, on my heart, while I am simultaneously winking at the cute girl across the aisle. Talk about your multi-tasker!
But let’s not throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water. While Jesus warns us against vain repetition (Matthew 6:7), he does not advocate never repeating anything. Indeed, that is what traditions are: determining those events, occurrences, and corporate experiences which are repeated, whether it is weekly, monthly, annually or otherwise. This is suggested in the Old Testament in the book of Numbers: “Also at your times of rejoicing—your appointed feasts and New Moon festivals—you are to sound the trumpets over your burnt offerings and fellowship offerings, and they will be a memorial for you before your God.” Numbers 10:10 This wasn’t just a Hebrew thing, it was a people of God thing, suggesting that part of trusting God for our future was remembering our past. And part of retaining the identity as a unique work of God’s hand was to replay, occasionally, our unique story.
In watching other faith communities on TV (actually I t-vo them since I am usually indisposed on Sunday mornings), I notice various traditions, not all of which are meaningful to me personally, but which have found value in their local settings. One famous TV church encourages its members to turn and greet each other with the phrase “God loves you, and so do I.” The cynical side of me quickly goes to the bumper sticker I once saw that admitted, perhaps more honestly, “God loves you, and I’m trying.” Another televised megachurch begins its program with everyone holding up their bibles and making a pledge to its authority.
Some churches enshrine everything from passion plays, Christmas musicals, last supper reenactments, foot-washing ceremonies, July 4th blow-outs, to Boar’s Head festivals (OK, you may have to google it), Easter vigils, or church picnics. Regardless, the point is that honoring meaningful traditions helps keep us, as the transforming people of God, anchored in our spiritual and cultural roots.
If we find, in this contemporary American culture which seems addicted to the new, that nothing we do seems worthy of repeating, then maybe it wasn’t worth doing in the first place. And the day we allow the priority of our fellowship to become the mere perpetuation of empty traditions, we may as well join the cast of Fiddler on the Roof as Tevye’s backup singers.
Dream a dream with me that, in Hope’s future, there will always be those times of the year and commemorations which are part of our DNA as a unique people of God. My question to you, especially those with some history with Hope: could you name a few? If not, let’s begin to create them…together.
-tad
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