It's OK For Church To Be Boring Sometimes

Once in an interview, Slajov Zizek attempted to discuss the thesis of his new book through the example of a small child not wanting to visit Grandma, but his Dad just says "shut up, we're going"--that was the older model, said Zizek; now, in our more modern, "Enlightened" form of parenting, we tell the kid he doesn't have to go, it's his choice, but Grandma has been looking forward to seeing him for so long, and how terribly disappointed she'll be if he doesn't come. 

Though this newer version is certainly less nakedly forceful, says Zizek, it is actually a far more insidious form of coercion--for not only are we still in fact forcing the kid to go to Grandma's, but we are also forcing him to enjoy going, as well.

"So you're saying we should go back to that older form of just forcing the kid?" asked the interviewer.  "Yes," said Zizek, "It's more honest."

Now, Zizek is a misanthrope and a plagiarist, and at some point it doesn't matter if he's just kidding about being a Stalinist, it's not funny; nevertheless, that doesn't necessarily mean he's wrong, at least not on this particular point.  Because growing up, I've heard sermon after sermon about how, if you're bored at Church, it is more a reflection of your own lack of spiritual preparedness. As in Zizek's example, we coerce not only our kids but each other and ourselves into liking Church, even if it's dull.  And you know what?  Sometimes it is on us--we show up in a bad or lackadaisical mood, we're not paying attention like we should, and we're the one who misses out.  Sometimes it really is us.

But here's the thing: sometimes it's not!  Sometimes the speakers really are dry and dull.  Sometimes the Sunday School teachers really are unprepared and class discussion is nil.  Sometimes Church really is just boring.

And that's OK! I am convinced that if we all just admitted Church is boring sometimes, that it would actually make it far easier to go.  We would quit blaming ourselves for others dullness, our repressed resentment would go down, it would explode far less frequently into a faith crisis, and we would feel far less coerced into attending something that should only be by our own freewill and choice. 

I've come to the conclusion that it's far less healthy to say, "I didn't get much out of Church today, there must be something wrong with me," than it is to say, "You know what?  Church was boring today.  Oh well.  I'll be back next week." 

Because we don't go to Church to be perfected at a perfect institution, but to help deal with each others many failings mutually.  That means there's going to be some screw-ups, that means some Sundays will be plain boring.  But it's OK, it's all a work in progress, we'll be back next week to keep working on it.  Teaching people to blame themselves when an imperfect institution is imperfect, only sets them up for their entire world to collapse out from under them when they do finally wise up to these rather obvious imperfections.  But teaching people that sometimes Church is boring but we're going anyways just makes it all the sweeter when it is good!

This is all just a round-about way of saying that, whenever someone preaches the importance of coming to Church "spiritually prepared," I just roll my eyes and grin, and say to myself: "No, actually, sometimes Church really is just boring; but that's OK, I'll be back next week."