I loved the emphasis today of the sermon at Beavertown church, taken from John the Baptist's words about Christ, "He must increase, but I must decrease."
"The grace of decrease," Pastor Plank called it.
He shared a fascinating story about Ephrata Cloister which a person can still visit near Lancaster, PA. Pastor Plank had once visited this place that served as home to a communal group of German Baptist Brethren led by Georg Conrad Beissel from Germany. Men and women lived celibate lives in separate dormitories, grew their own food, ate no meat (except lamb during communion), and celebrated the Sabbath on Saturday rather than on Sunday.
I was rather disgusted to discover that in the "Sisters' House," beds were narrow board beds with a small wooden block for a pillow. So what about the brothers' beds, I wondered. But then, that was a paltry thought, right?
AND the doorways, Mr. Plank mentioned, were built low so that one had to stoop to enter another room. This was to keep the members of the commune humble. The only problem was, did it work?
I was intrigued by this story and searched online for more information, finding some in the following article at https://www.cob-net.org/cloister.htm
Low doorways did not seem to keep the leader humble, as he could not get along even with his own brother who was an astute businessman and whose efforts caused the community to thrive with their own orchards, mills, and print shop which printed their own hymnals with hymns their own people wrote. The brother had to leave, and during his absence, Georg burned the hymnals the brother had printed and the sawmill he had built himself. That brother was not happy when he returned, which led to more bitterness between the brothers and relationship schisms among followers.
Neither low doorways nor board beds nor celibate lifestyle had kept Georg humble.
A good question the writer of this article asked was this: "If this ascetic faith journey was so historically momentous and
spiritually impactful, then why are these buildings now empty museums?"
Pastor Plank had one rather obvous answer. Since most of those involved in the commune lived celibate lives, Mr. Plank told us listeners, the group died off one by one until there was no one left. The men and women never got together, and so when the last one died, the commmunity died, Mr. Plank observed sadly. No one to carry on the supposedly wonderful, religious, mystical beliefs of the leader and all those who followed his magnetic personality.
I thought of another answer. The mystical, ascetic, celibate, hermit lifestyle didn't work. It didn't keep leaders or people either one humble or teachable. It didn't cleanse their hearts from sin. It didn't make them holy.
It just looked good. Maybe it felt good (beds of planks and board pillows aside). It sounded good while listening to a dynamic leader with a lot of charisma and beautiful five-part harmony singing their own hymns.
"The grace of decrease," Pastor Plank said, "is not about self-deprecation, but about joyfully making room for Christ to be everything and all."
I noted in the article at the above link, that not all "religious
communities have gone out of existence but some are thriving. The Amana
Colony is one such community and their history points back to Europe
during the exact same period of time as Conrad Beissel. In the early
1700s in northern Europe, people were becoming dissatisfied with the
intellectualism of the liturgical churches. Pietism and Mysticism
flourished because people wanted a personal experience with God. Many
groups started breaking away from the established state-churches. One
such group was the Community of True Inspiration which held that God
still communicated through devout followers in the same manner as with
the prophets of the Old Testament. In the 1840s they left an
economically depressed and war ravaged Europe for America. Ebenezer was
the name of their first settlement near Buffalo, New York, and it was an
immediate success. Farms and industry were very successful, perhaps too
successful because it soon outgrew the available land. They then moved
to eastern Iowa and became the Amana Church Society, a word taken from
Song of Solomon 4:8 which signifies fidelity.
This one colony eventually
grew into seven separate colonies. Their farms were fruitful and their
industry was productive. In fact, their products were so dependable that
they were able to secure government contracts to build refrigeration
units during the Second World War. You can still buy an Amana
refrigerator in most parts of the nation. These people originated from
the very same time period and cultural background as Beissel. Now here
is the salient question which tips the scales. Do you know the name of
any one of their present leaders? Do you know the name of any person
involved in their founding? Most people cannot name even one person, and
understandably so, because the success of the Amana group continues
even to this day on principles - not personalities. Their religious experience overshadows their leadership.
The answer to our question of empty buildings may simply rest in the
counsel of the wise educator Gamaliel who advised the members of his own
community that the works of men are doomed to failure without God’s
interaction and providential guidance. For if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought, but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it, Acts 5:38-39.
Even today we make decisions about asceticism versus comfort, mysticism versus practicality. Decisions have to be made about whether to keep having camp meetings in worn out, un-airconditioned tabernacles versus more modern facilities. Some feel there is something somehow more spiritual about gathering for special meetings in hot, buggy, miserable conditions despite that we make our own homes as comfortable as possible.
There must be decisions about getting rid of hard wooden church pews and bringing in padded pews, or worse, padded folding chairs. Padded folding chairs have to be the ultimate desecration of a sanctuary, right? Even though in our homes we have the nicest sofas, recliners, padded rocking chairs, and even massaging recliners imaginable.
We also make decisions daily about how to worship and pray to our God. Do we have a hard bench in our home just for praying at (on our knees hopefully) or is it okay to sit in a comfortable kitchen chair or recliner sipping coffee while we read our Bible?
I've found it comforting to go to a sunny window and stand in the warmth of the sunshine and soak it in as I pray and worship. My husband sips coffee while we listen together to an audio reading of the Bible that is making God's Word more alive to us than it has been in years.
Neither sunny window nor coffee sipping makes us holy or humble, but low doorways and board pillows don't either.
Choosing simple comforts in our everyday walk with God does remind us that a relationship with God can be warm, close, comfortable, comforting, and wonderful. And should we someday languish in a prison cell for our faith, God's grace will be sufficient to keep us faithful and joyful in tribulation--even as we remember what it means to be warm, full, and comforted.
God will be there for us, even as He is now--at our window sill, in our warm bed, sipping coffee in the kitchen, and resting after chemo in a soft recliner.
