Ask a dozen UUs whether people should be invited to come forward and speak during a worship service, and you will get a dozen passionate responses. Each response will be accompanied by a story meant to illustrate why this liturgical practice of ours should or should not be allowed. Most people these days seem to come down strongly on either the Should or Should Not side, as though no middle ground were possible. Stories from the Shoulds emphasize that the service is enhanced by personal testimonies of blessings, losses, or transformative experiences. Stories from the Should Nots decry such sharing as overly-emotional, messy, too long, or even “a Liturgical Black Hole.” This question arises, not just around our Joys and Concerns candles, but also within memorial services and community vigils. And it affects, not just clergy, but anyone who finds themselves leading a worship service. When personal sharing during a service works, why does it work? When it goes badly, how have we erred? Is a firm policy, For or Against, our only option?

Personally, I have never stood firmly with the Shoulds or the Should Nots. When in the pews, I have a high tolerance for listening to personal sharing. Yet as a worship leader, I take the responsibility for the design, plan, and flow of the service very seriously. If the service is a bad experience, the Worship Leader will be blamed. And so I have given a lot of thought as to why I might include or prohibit personal sharing. To prohibit it sounds like censorship or restriction of free speech. And I am against censorship and in favor of free speech. Happily, in our congregation, Joys and Concerns works beautifully. Yet in recent months I have heard of a variety of abuses during joys and concerns, memorial services, or vigils --stories of that time being used to say derogatory things about certain groups of people, to vent angrily about the deceased, or for accusatory polemics in which worshippers are berated to wake up and get with the program. I am not a liturgical control freak. But we gather for worship for a purpose and, at the very least, people should not leave feeling worse than when they arrived.

I am envisioning a land between the Shoulds and the Should Nots --a middle ground in which a worship service is enhanced by personal sharing, but worshippers are not subjected to the abuses noted above. What is a Worship Leader’s role in this middle ground? How much control is appropriate? Where does the power lie, when setting guidelines, limits, and boundaries?

Those guidelines are best developed after the Worship Leader has had several conversations with others in the group which will be worshipping, to determine, together, the needs and idiosyncrasies of that group. I led a memorial service once for which the deceased gentleman’s son wanted me to include a time of personal sharing. It was a particularly touchy situation-- As the deceased gentleman had become increasingly infirmed, he had become caustic toward those closest to him-- He had burned a lot of bridges. In addition, I had not known him very well. I had many conversations with those who knew him, researched his accomplishments, and took copious notes. From those conversations, his son and I decided that people should be invited to speak, but that I should set firm limits around that invitation. I said I would be glad to do so, and made these liturgical choices.

I introduced the service by stating that we were gathered to honor the memory and celebrate the life of the deceased gentleman. In the meditation and prayer, I hoped that we might rise above being overly-judgmental in favor of finding, in time, forgiveness, right-relationship, and higher understanding. In the eulogy, I did acknowledge that the deceased gentleman was difficult to take, hard to get close to-- But I made much of his innovative contributions, brilliant mind, noble ideals, and high standards. I was not dishonest, but I honored the whole person, rather than focusing on one negative part of him. I then invited family and friends to come to the pulpit and speak, “in brief words which will harm no one.” Several did, adding detail and personal touches which I had been unable to contribute. Thankfully, no names were taken in vain and no mud was slung. Had any of that begun, or had anyone gone on for too long, I was sitting by, prepared to stand, put my hand on their arm, and say, gently but firmly, “We need to move on.”

Ninety-nine percent of the worshippers felt that the service was just right. Only one, from out of town, said to me afterward, “A nice service, but we didn’t have a chance to process our bitterness.” In response, one might say, “Do you have some supportive people you can talk with about that?” or “I’m always happy to meet with people one-on-one,” or nothing at all, maintaining a non-anxious presence. We will never please everyone. But we will be seen as a representative of “god” by some people, some of the time. I chose to represent one which would be merciful, compassionate, peaceful, and forgiving toward the deceased gentleman.

Had this been a smaller, private occasion, I might have made different choices. But this was a large, public church gathering. There are differences between how we act in private and how we should act in public. Personal sharing during a worship service is different than an Open Mike at a brew pub, and it needs to be. What do you believe the differences need to be, and why?

When I meet with couples for whom I will perform a wedding, I tell them, “I can marry you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but I do not have to say anything like that if you are not comfortable with that language. But you two will need to think about what it is you want to be married in the name of, or in the presence of.” That’s what the role of the Worship Leader is, in this regard --to help worshippers discern and name what it is we are gathered in awe of, or esteeming to. That will be different for each person, of course. For some, a greater source or force; for some, a divine spark within; for some, the noblest heights which human beings have achieved and may yet achieve --but something greater than any of us, or even all of us put together; something we are humbled by.

I recently attended a Native American workshop led by a teacher and healer named BlackWolf, of the Ojibwa people. At several points, he spoke of asking permission from the Creator Spirit, or from the spiritual world, before beginning a worship ritual, or before pursuing a new direction of his spiritual vocation. To ask permission implies humility; it implies that the undertaking is more like a privilege than a right. Imagine if more people sought an audience from that humble stance-- if permission were requested before grandstanding in a town forum, before mass mailing irrelevant e-mails, before --even-- sending those photocopied Christmas letters containing gory details of injuries and ailments of relatives unknown to us.

I’m still against censorship and in favor of free speech. But even on Car Talk, Click and Clack tell callers that it’s time to move on, gently but firmly. A good leader foresees potential pitfalls and takes action before problems occur, so that we might avoid sinking in a mire. When our purpose in gathering is clearly discerned and named; when the liturgy has a design, plan, structure, and flow; when we assemble in an ethos of compassion, respect, and humility; and when the Worship Leader takes gentle but firm responsibility for its direction, personal sharing can enhance our services without resultant bawling or brawling.

We get about an hour. -to extol our joys, bear our sorrows, balm our wounds, commemorate our heroes, and honor our dead, we get about an hour. May we unite to make each moment shimmer, so as to make the spiritual world glad.

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