Turning the Queen Mary

One friend responded to my post about church hospitality and said it would be like "turning the Queen Mary." I hope the comparison isn't too close because the Queen Mary has been immobile since 1967. If a ship isn't going anywhere, it can't be turned.

I can think of a lot of places to begin, but one is a change in our attitude toward the meaning of stuff.

What, exactly, does the physical universe mean?

A lot of Christian answers have been proposed, many focusing on the Christian's task of avoiding "the world, the flesh, and the devil."

Neo-Amish Abhorrence
Some of us have taken the attitude that asceticism is the way out of the world-flesh-devil trap. White bread is always better than chocolate cake—on a moral level. Doing anything just for the fun of doing it is to be avoided because, at root, a Christian must avoid all frivolity. I don't know what it would be like to get an invitation to this sort of household for dinner because dinner parties are, by definition, fun, and to be avoided.

Didacticism
Everything is here to "teach us a lesson." A trillium isn't just a beautiful flower, The point of its structure is to give us something to use in teaching people about the Trinity. Dinner with this crowd is like a Seder service. Everything has a meaning, which must be exhaustively (and exhaustingly) explained.

Recruitment ploy
The only point of life is to bring people into the Kingdom, so everything is part of a great advertising come-on. It's all very similar to those Ponzi organizations like Amway. We're only interested in getting you in. God's only interested in getting you in. Dinner with these people is wonderful, but once you sign on the dotted line, you're pointless. No more dinners. (Note: Does this sound like the way churches use the "Alpha Course"?)

It's all burning soon
In some people's view, the entire physical universe is some sort of short-term experiment on God's part. It's pointless to worry about global warming because the world won't even be here in another five years. So drive your Ford Expedition. It's God's will for us to dominate and use up the natural creation. I suspect that dinner with these folks would have an enormous abundance—even waste—but there's not a great deal of respect for stuff in this view. This one doesn't seem to see God's love for his creation, and easily goes to Wal-Mart and craft show accumulation. Dinner? Pre-packaged mixes.

Everything's a sacrament
Christians over the ages have battled about the number of sacraments. Seven? You're Roman Catholic. Two? A Protestant. Dozens and dozens? Perhaps you're an Episcopalian. Saint Augustine defined a Christian sacrament as "a visible sign of an invisible reality." If we really follow that one up, coffee, brownies, and a friend is some sort of sacrament, a sign of God's love and provision. And if we get off the theology that sees God as a grim, nasty preacher and begin to see him as he really is—a lover—we've got something. His first words after creating the earth were "Mazel tov!" ("Good luck has occurred.") And, being Jewish, the next obvious thing to do would be to pour a glass of wine to celebrate.

Shifting from Episcopalian to Presbyterian, the first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism is "What is the chief end of man?" The answer: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." I like the "enjoy" part of that, and surely part of the "glorifying" is to love what God loves. To be really blunt, God loves wine and bread and a good dinner and friendship.