When I was a little kid, there was a TV show called Sha-Na-Na, with these really cool 70's guys who sang 50's songs and played up this whole mid-century NYC vibe, with all the pop music from that era.
In one episode, the guys were dressed up in some kind of church-acolyte-type robes, and sang a really comforting song about a little church, that went something like, "...and the little congregation...prayed for guidance from above..."
Eventually, I heard the real thing, and it's a lovely song: "The Three Bells" by The Browns.
Growing up in church, and spending my entire adult life in church, I'm accustomed to the ambitions we church people sometimes assume we're supposed to have: to grow in numbers exponentially, to influence a community in overt ways, to make an impact for good (or at least for what we believe is right) in the broader culture, and I've even heard wording along the lines of "making Jesus famous" or "taking this city for Jesus".
I don't believe I've ever been a part of a church that achieved these ambitions, though we've all heard the stories and compared ourselves to the churches that seem to, the ones that explode, the ones that change the skyline, the ones that become a household name.
It seems obvious from a distance that these superstar stories are few and far between, and that most churches are known to relatively few people.
Before we feel sad about that, though, I wonder if we've been missing something, or at least rushing past it because it seems to be a given, when it may just be everything we need.
This charming little song, "The Three Bells", tells the story of a small church, a "little congregation", that marks the occasions in the lives of the members of its body, the song highlighting the birth, marriage, and death of one person, "Jimmy Brown".
As the song moves through the chapters of Jimmy's life, the moments are each honored in their turn, with the momentum of the song moving along with the momentum of history, each generation welcoming the next and honoring the previous.
This little congregation does a few things, and seems to do them well:
*Rings the chapel bells in celebration and in mourning.
*Prays for guidance from above, for protection from temptation.
*Prays for divine blessing on their meditations and celebrations.
*Prays for these moments to be filled with love.
*Prays for the souls of the departed to find salvation.
The ambitions we know so well, and burn energy over, are seemingly absent here.
This little congregation does not appear to be in conflict with itself or with its community, but seems to exist simply and with contentment within its space, not appearing to swing for the fences in Jesus' name.
It is possible to hear this song and picture perhaps a complacent congregation, or at least one that is part of the dominant culture, and thus does not feel that sense of being outsiders in this world that the first century church must have felt. The church depicted in this song does seem to live a rather placid, unchallenged life, and it's not unreasonable to have these questions about what makes such a life possible.
But even considering this, is there room to learn something from the little congregation that marked the moments in the life of Jimmy Brown?
I think so.
This little congregation is a humble place, self-aware regarding its vulnerability to temptation, and open about its need for guidance. This does not seem to be a place where people think they have all the answers or have everything figured out.
This little congregation is a connected place where the events in people's lives are important and recognized. This is a church where a child's dance recital, ball game, or Honor Roll certificate would matter to everyone there, and that kid would remember into adulthood the feeling of being affirmed and loved through these milestones.
This little congregation is a relational place for belonging, not for conquering.
This little congregation does not appear to be winning or trying to win.
Of course, this little congregation is filled with human beings, so certainly there have been and will be times of conflict among them. But what doesn't seem to be present is a spirit of conflict or antagonism from the little congregation toward the community around it. And again, maybe the absence of conflict with the community could be explained by this little congregation being culturally indistinguishable from the society around it; sounds like a simpler time, small town, middle America, likely a predominantly white church in a predominantly white community, not exactly a lightning rod for social tension, not exactly a time of persecution of Christians, etc.
All probably true, but still...
I think there is still something here.
Many Americans today would readily say that we are living in a time of intense internal conflict as a society. And many Christians would readily say that we are living in a time of stark difference between "our" Christian values and the values of "the world" out there, a time when "our" Christian faith is threatened, even under siege, by the forces of evil.
And many Christians today are convinced "we" had better "do something" about it.
And that "something" usually means grasping for political power, however it can be gotten.
And sadly, many of our political leaders know this, and are tapping deeply, deliberately, into this lust that is diguised as a spiritual awakening, to increase their power for their own reasons, stoking the fears, feeding the scorn, leading Jesus' followers to think they are fighting his fight, hoping we don't remember what Jesus said about his followers not fighting because his kingdom is not of this earth.
It's a heartbreaking split screen:
On one side, a political rally fueled by religious fervor and scorn of neighbor, and on the other side, the little congregation of Jimmy Brown.
No, I'm not assuming this little congregation is perfect.
"The Three Bells" was originally a French song written and performed in the late 1940's, while the English language version most Americans have heard was released in 1959, an interesting time period to imagine a song about an unassuming church marking the milestones of a quiet life.
Placing this congregation in that time period, and assuming this little congregation was likely a white church, I wonder what these parishioners thought of Brown v Board of Education, whether they welcomed (or at least made peace with) public school integration, and what they thought of some churches organizing private Christian schools as a means of defying integration, and some Christians protesting in public when black children enrolled in previously all-white schools. I wonder how they reacted to Senator McCarthy stirring up the country about Communism. I wonder what they thought of Elvis.
But maybe I'm placing this little congregation all wrong; maybe the 1959 hit song was actually referencing a church set sometime prior to that, back even further in the good old days, a simpler, quieter time.
OK...
Let's place the little congregation, say, in the 1930's...
I wonder how many of them were wiped out financially in the Great Depression. How many were out of work for years? Lost everything? Were they Oklahoma Dust Bowl refugees who packed up and moved to California to work harvesting crops, only to be called "Okies", as a slur? I wonder what they thought of the New Deal?
Let's place this little congregation in the 19-teens...
I wonder if any of them sent a son "over there" to fight in Europe as a "Doughboy", in the war they thought would end all wars. I wonder what they thought of the Ku Klux Klan. Were any of them members?
Let's place this little congregation in the 1860's...
I wonder what these parishioners thought of President Lincoln. Of slavery, the Union, the Confederacy.
Let's place this little congregation all the way back at our nation's founding:
I wonder what these folks thought of the people and events from the Hamilton soundtrack. Were they loyalists to the crown? Did they cheer on the Boston Tea Party? What did they think of the Declaration? The Constitution? The Bill of Rights?
No matter what era we choose, this little congregation faces the same choice it would face today:
Will it be an outpost of selfless love in an unjust, greedy, and turbulent world?
Or will it be just another local chapter of the national voice of the powerful?
Is this a body in which any member of the community could find the peace and safety in which Jimmy Brown was raised? Or is this an exclusive group into which Jimmy Brown just happened to be born as an insider?
The song leaves these questions to our imagination.
But what a thing to imagine:
A little congregation that does a few things well, foremost, living out the genuine love of Christ in whatever chaos is churning in the world around it; a church providing shelter for the hurting, rather than a cadre doing the hurting, or a council blessing the hurting, or a club concealing the hurting being done by themselves and others; a church whose concern is for the vulnerable, not the powerful.
A little congregation not playing to win, not fighting to conquer, but humbly going about the mostly ignored business of loving real people up close, likely unaware of countless other little congregations in other places doing the same, likely unaware of the work of the Spirit to bring about great change from these small gifts, likely unaware of what a victory it is when a day can pass without human strife, when people can share space in peace, when neighbors are known well enough to be seen with fondness, when children are safe to grow up and find their way, when human connection is strong enough to fill the spaces in the mind where propaganda can take root, when the desire for spiritual insight is deep enough to occupy the heart more than just on Sunday morning, when humility is sincere enough to prompt the prayer for divine guidance that fills every chorus of "The Three Bells", when that prayer for guidance and love is granted, and people find themselves content and enough at peace with God and neighbor to ignore the chorus of carnival barkers trying to turn them into useful political zealots.
This little congregation that welcomed, loved, and bid farewell to Jimmy Brown may be just vague enough in our memory to become whatever we want it to be, and it's probably not fair to them to shape-shift them too much in any direction to fit our vision.
But I think this same principle is true of any church today: It can be what we want it to be.
In fact, it probably is what we want it to be.
