When was the last time someone told you how much they liked Church on Sunday? Or what made a Sacrament Meeting really great? Or what in a lesson touched them, made them cry or gave them a new way of thinking?

I often hear complaints about Church these days. If it isn’t that the Sacrament Meeting talks were boring, or retreads of general conference talks, or travelogues, it’s that false doctrine was taught, or something ‘inappropriate’ for Church was said. [If so, I apologize, that was probably me.]

So, have you ever thought, “If I were in charge of Sacrament Meeting, I’d ….” Or “If I were the Sunday School President, I’d make sure the teachers…”

Now, I’m not going to give you some instructions for how to give a stunning talk, or a wonderful lesson — there’s plenty of advice about that. Indeed, whole academic disciplines (Rhetoric for the former, and Education for the latter) exist to find the best methods of public speaking and of teaching. But, I will readily admit that those methods are not generally used by most members at Church—so, in a sense, I believe critics have a point.

But, in the last few years I’ve shifted how I see Church meetings. Much of this shift came from classes I’ve taken in English and in literary theory. And it started with thinking about poetry.

More than prose, poetry adds additional structure to the words communicated. Meter, rhyme, lines, stanzas, etc. are all part of the “form” of the poem—i.e, the structures that make these words into a poem, and that then actually add meaning to the words that wouldn’t be there otherwise. Things like rhyme and rhythm emphasize some words more than others, or make the words more memorable. All this allows poetry to say things that aren’t apparent from just the words.

So what does this have to do with Church?

Church also has structure, a form for the meetings, and even form for the elements of the meetings—the talks, the prayers, the lessons, etc. We repeat the same patterns each time we go. These similar actions “rhyme” with each other – i.e., the words of each prayer are different, but it’s still a prayer, a repeated structure that sounds similar each time it’s done. Our meetings have a certain “rhythm”, each action taking about the same amount of time each week. You might say that each week something like a work of literature is being created as we fill in the elements of the structure.

While almost everything in life can be seen in this way, I especially like to think of Church like this. Each week we come together, and everyone participates in creating the artwork. Some give prayers, some teach lessons, some give talks, and some listen to the talks or to the lessons.

Listen? Is listening part of creating? Are those who listen to a talk participating?

Today, literary studies often talk of works being “in conversation” with each other and with readers today. Readers (and listeners) consume a story, and react to it, and those reactions are a kind of creation themselves. In literature, this often means writing about the story, or talking about it in a class.

In church the conversation between reader and deliverer can include those discussions we have in the hallway later, or the way that a talk influenced us to change something in our lives. I should be clear that the reaction we have may not be what the speaker intended! Sometimes the reaction is even the opposite of what was intended. Other times, it is critical or dismissive. That is still part of the “conversation” the listener is having with the talk or lesson (or even with the prayers or the sacrament or the way the deacons pass the sacrament).

So yes, listening is participation.  Everyone present at church is part of a kind of conversation. And the conversation you have says a lot, both about the talks or lessons, and about you. Since we teach that we are children of Creator parents — and I want to emphasize that word “creator” because Creators make things like poetry, and art, and lives — I believe we are supposed to be like Them. We should be creators who naturally participate in creating the art that is our lives. So, at Church, as we are collaborating in creating the artwork that is our church meetings,  how we participate makes a difference. How you listen, and how you react is not merely an interpretation, it is also a question of the gospel, of our lives, and of ethics.

This past summer I read a book that has made me think about the conversations we have. “The Company We Keep” by Wayne Booth, who taught English at the University of Chicago (most known for the concept of the ‘unreliable narrator’), discusses the ethics of literature. Booth points out that there are a number of ethical questions in literature. He addresses, of course, things like whether it is ethical for an author to write about evil or whether an author should think about what his work might lead a reader to do. He suggests that there are ethical questions for the author.

More surprisingly, Booth also asks what the reader’s ethical responsibilities are to the author. I’m pretty sure that most people don’t think about that! When you pick up a book, do you even think about the author? Do you consider what you owe to the author? Booth suggests that the reader does have responsibilities to the author — for example, he suggests that the reader should be fair in how he reads the author’s words. He shouldn’t twist what he read to mean something else.

The parallel to what we do at Church is, I hope, clear. We have a responsibility to those who are giving talks, or teaching lessons. Our responsibility starts with paying careful attention to what is being communicated. But it also goes on to treating fairly what is said and reacting thoughtfully to the message.

Does this mean that we, the listeners must agree with what is said?

NO, far from it. Listening doesn’t mean agreeing. But it does mean that we are in a relationship with the speaker. And that relationship means we listen carefully and fairly. It might mean we take information we know about the speaker into account when we listen and react. Listening to a speaker with a speech impediment or to a second-language speaker means we have to listen differently. The speaker’s childhood trauma or struggles with substance abuse should also lead to listening differently. And this might mean that we talk to the speaker afterwards, or not.

I’m afraid that our society today makes very different unconscious assumptions about what is going on when we hear someone speak or teach (or otherwise participate). We’re conditioned by mass media to expectations of error-free fluidity from speakers. We assume teachers are always well-prepared and very knowledgeable about the subject. It’s hard not to expect that, because those are the principal examples we get. This is what leads so many people to be afraid of speaking and of singing and unwilling to participate. Overall, I think we judge too harshly. If it’s not TV quality, we are quick to criticize. Maybe the newer forms of social media will help with this — or maybe not.

Regardless, we bring these assumptions about hearing speakers or teachers to Church. We assume that we are the audience, and we deserve to be entertained. And if we aren’t entertained, we should go elsewhere. We, the audience, the congregation, somehow don’t think we’re actually involved. We don’t think we have any responsibility for how entertaining the talk is or how enlightening the lesson is.

One literature teacher I listened to taught an overview of the principle approaches to literature in an unusual way. Instead of using a well-known work from the literary canon and demonstrating how each approach saw it differently, he chose a children’s picture book—and not one of the well-known children’s books like “Where the Wild Things Are” or “Cat in the Hat.” It turns out that these different approaches to literature work on most books, not just the famous ones. This suggests that the approach we use might actually be more important than how well the work is made.

This is also true of how we react to talks and lessons that aren’t coming from master speakers and expert teachers. If you listen carefully, and let your mind react to what is being said in a talk, you will find interesting and valuable and even entertaining things in the talk—even if they come from your reactions instead of the talk. The words used may lead you to remember something, or your disagreement with what was said might lead you to a new understanding of why you disagree. As much as we prefer a well-delivered talk, it doesn’t need to be good!

Nor does the lesson. In fact, lessons at church usually allow participation, so even a lesson from a poorly prepared teacher can become worthwhile because class members have made helpful comments–including the ones that occur to you. And this is even more true if you have read the lesson and scriptures yourself beforehand—i.e, if you come prepared. Lessons are a collaboration, not a soliloquy.

Lest I give the wrong impression, I am NOT suggesting that speakers and teachers don’t need to prepare. Years ago I heard Elder Packer teach about preparing for talks, saying that some speakers come with a thimbleful of wisdom, which they sprinkle over the congregation, barely wetting the buckets the congregation brought. Other times, Elder Packer continued, the speaker comes prepared with buckets full of wisdom, only to find that the audience has put up umbrellas so they don’t get anything. That strikes me as true, as far as it goes.

But I want to suggest that when we, the audience, come prepared, because we are participating in a conversation with the speaker, we can magnify and add to whatever the speaker might bring, even if it is very little. And I want to suggest a way to put this into practice. At Church this past week I saw that one of the other class members had a “spiritual journal” open on his iPad, where he was writing his reactions to the lesson. That seems like a great tool. But I’m not necessarily suggesting that anyone else do that. Do it if you think it will work for you.

Instead, each week, I’m going to write down my own reactions and thoughts from Church and post them here. This is NOT because I think my reactions and thoughts are worth anything to anyone else—in fact, I’m going to post my reactions and thoughts as a comment to the post, so they are similar to the comments everyone else might make. So the thoughts and reactions we together post will serve as an example of what anyone might have to what happened at church — what was said in talks, what was said in lessons, what happened in the hallways, etc.

If you have your own reactions to what happened at church for you, then add them to the comments. Likely they will be better than mine. And I hope that together these will be examples of how we can notice, think and react to Church. How we can be present at Church (instead of on TikTok or Instagram or Facebook). How we can participate at Church. And how we can be in conversation with what happens at Church.

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Below, I’m adding my “conversation” with what happened at Church this past Sunday in the first comment. Feel free to add your “conversations” with what you experienced below.