Familiarity Breeds Connections

Familiarity breeds contempt. Most of you, I imagine, have heard the phrase. Familiarity breeds contempt. I was intrigued to discover in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations that it comes, evidently, from Aesop. A fable entitled The Fox and the Lion. That piqued my interest, although I didn’t have time to pursue it. I was also intrigued to discover (in Bartlett’s) Mark Twain’s modification of the phrase: Familiarity breeds contempt and children. But to return to Aesop’s original: Familiarity breeds contempt.

It certainly can. The family, that most familiar of settings, provides evidence for many of us of occasions where familiarity can breed contempt. But it doesn’t always. Familiarity can also breed comfort, build connections. Familiarity. Potentially the seed for contempt. Or, potentially, the source of connection and comfort.

The powerful familiarity of several passages in this morning’s Scripture readings is what triggered this train of thought for me. "Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away." For a priest at least, those words jump off the page and out of John’s gospel and right into the Book of Common Prayer as part of the service for the Burial of the Dead. I said them just last Saturday at a grave side. And I have said them some 100 or 150 times at other committals. "Everything that the Father give me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away." The words are very familiar because they are used in the liturgy of the church. We say and hear them again and again in the context of the church’s worship.

Later in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus says, "I am the bread of life." And of those who eat this bread, he says, "I will raise them up… I will raise them up on the last day." I cannot read or hear those words without feeling a great urge to sing. They are familiar to me and probably to many of you from Hymn 335. "I am the bread of life; they who come to me shall not hunger; they who believe in me shall not thirst. No one can come to me unless the Father draw them. And I will raise them up. And I will raise them up on the last day." The hymn is new to the Hymnal 1982, yet it has quickly become popular. And as we sing it in worship, the words become familiar to us.

And one final example that must have struck all of you. From Ephesians: "Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." How many times have you heard those words? How many hundreds and hundreds of times have I said them? They are very familiar.

These words are familiar to us, to us as Episcopalians, because we hear and say and sing them over and over again in our corporate worship, in our common prayer. This clearly belies the frequent criticism that Episcopalians do not use or know the Bible, but that is not my point this morning. Rather, I want to explore some of the implications of familiarity as part of the particular way we, as Episcopalians, worship together. When we, as a community, gather for worship, we gather in common prayer. The structure of our worship service, even the specific words we say, are things that we all share in common, one with another, and from Sunday to Sunday to Sunday. Which creates familiarity. The words become familiar. The flow of the service becomes familiar. A feeling of familiarity is a characteristic of participating in Episcopal worship. Not just Episcopal worship; the same is true of Lutheran or Roman Catholic or Orthodox worship. Other denominations use ordered, liturgical worship. But many others do not: Baptists, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Pentecostals… And the experience of worship in a non-liturgical church is very different. Not better or worse, but definitely different.

Individual Episcopalians value the Book of Common Prayer in different ways. Some find reverence in the order and somewhat formal ritual. Others treasure the mystery of the sacramental theology embodied in the rites. For others it is the depth and beauty of the language itself. But familiarity is always, whether we think about it or not, a quality of our worship.

Familiarity. But is it good or bad? It can be either. And that’s the important thing to remember. Familiarity in worship, in liturgy, has the potential to be very positive. It also has the potential to be negative. It is rarely neutral. It’s up to us to be mind-ful, to be care-ful of the role of familiarity in our worship. It’s up to us to celebrate and nurture the positive. And it’s up to us to avoid falling prey to the negative. Familiarity is an inherent quality of liturgical worship. Familiarity has the potential to be a powerful source of connection and of comfort. Familiarity can also breed contempt, or at the very least, stale disinterest.

Familiarity breeds connection. Familiarity is a source of connection. We feel connected to that which is familiar. One reason I feel connected, feel at home, in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming more than any other of the world’s mountains is because I have known them my whole life. I know the names and shapes of the peaks and lakes. The trails are familiar. Speaking of church… Like many, I was not terribly active in church during college, but when I sort of drifted back, quite a few years and many thousands of miles later, the connection was almost magnetic, in large part because the liturgy was familiar (even though the church had changed prayer books in the interim.) This potential for familiarity to build connection is a powerful asset. The familiarity of the liturgy can be a powerful connection to the church and to one another. And that’s a good thing. But for it to happen we must care-fully, mind-fully, build that familiarity. Familiarity comes through exposure, participation, learning. You have to be here and be active in the events of the liturgy, and thoughtfully attentive to the liturgical landscape. You have to walk the trails, learn the names of the lakes and peaks. Familiarity doesn’t just happen. You have to take some personal responsibility or initiative for acquiring familiarity.

And think about those other people for whom we would wish a church connection. Other people whom we would like to see connected to the church—visitors, the unchurched seeker, our own children and grandchildren. Liturgical familiarity is not the only asset, nor the most important asset, God knows, of the church. Yet it can be a powerful connection. But we must help build that connection in others. We must be the teachers and guides. We must take responsibility for helping others gain familiarity. We, you(!) must be active, enthusiastic liturgical tour guides for those who do not yet know this landscape. You have a role, a responsibility, to help visitors, seekers, children become familiar, really familiar, with the liturgy of the church. Familiarity has the potential, the rich and powerful potential to build connection, but we must take responsibility for creating that familiarity.

Familiarity also has the potential to be a source of comfort. The words of a familiar prayer, a familiar prayer, have an unparalleled pastoral power. To be the source of spiritual strength and comfort. Yet again… for that potential to be realized in our own lives or the lives of others, we must have some prayers that are familiar. And that familiarity must be intentionally, consciously, built.

Familiarity builds connection. Familiarity offers comfort and support. Yet, familiarity can also breed contempt. Or, if not contempt, familiarity can certainly lead to stale indifference, thoughtless repetition, lifeless predictability. There is indeed potential for great harm in familiarity. Just as familiarity can create connection, it can also create separation. But only if we let it. Only if we become mind-less, care-less in our liturgical participation. If we cling to familiarity mindlessly, carelessly… if we cling to familiarity as the be all and end all, we have nothing. Think about other aspects of human life, relationships, daily life… if all you have is familiarity with no possibility for new experience, new understanding, new opportunity… then familiarity is no gift; it creates numbness, separation, contempt.

Familiarity can breed contempt. It can lead to lifelessness. But familiarity can also create lasting connection; be a source of profound comfort. It’s up to us to be faith-ful, mind-ful, care-ful stewards of this great potential we have been given. It’s up to us.  Amen.