The method of inculturation then, to use Lester Ruth's categories, is that of the congregational model. There are no real referents to the historical tradition, and there are no set liturgical texts to be considered. Willow Creek uses popular culture as its referent. The short television skit, a simple, uncomplicated version of a Saturday Night Live sketch, is the model. Not all, however, are of a humorous nature. One drama, entitled "Great Expectations," involved a couple having trouble conceiving a child. They tried to adopt, but at the last minute the adoption fell through. The wife erupted in rage at God, and the husband tried to comfort her—the skit ended there. A skit is never fully developed into a drama per se, one with a reversal or transformational moment.

Pritchard reports the following: "When Willow Creek has attempted to use drama to teach answers to unchurched Harry, the results have been less than satisfying" (93). We see here that the drama is used to set up a pedagogic moment, servant to the pastor's message; it is not intended to function pedagogically on its own, nor is it intended in any way to function in a sacramental mode. Drama is not considered a suitable way to preach the Gospel when the goal is to raise a question and provide an answer that gives clear assurance and a "how-to" application; the drama sets up the problem, the message offers the solution.

Pritchard offers the following critique, "Creekers generally seek to avoid complexity and they believe that nuances are dispensable. Creekers often use visual stimulation as a substitute for thought and do not value verbal precision." He also points out that in Willow Creek's overall use of the arts there is "a potential lack of willingness to upset or confront Harry" and thus a high priority is placed on providing entertainment, with the result a "cheerful Christianity" (93).

Willow Creek and most other communities offering contemporary worship do not follow a lectionary or liturgical year. Thus, without the progression through the liturgical year—especially entering into the darker aspects of Lent and the cross—and without the use of deep symbols, the move into a more mature faith and response to discipleship is at risk. I believe that the dramas set within the overall programmatic goals of Willow Creek run amiss by offering a therapeutic message rather than the Gospel message in all its complexity. This has inspired me to rethink the model through the lens of medieval liturgical drama.

Visitatio Sepulcri. The tenth-century liturgical drama of Anglo-Saxon England arose in the era of Benedictine Reform, a time of church revitalization amidst cultural transition, not entirely dissimilar to our contemporary situation. Tracing the earlier roots of the reform in Anglo-Saxon England, M. Bradford Bedingfield writes:

When Augustine arrived in Canterbury in 597, in an attempt to revive a Christian church in the British Isles that had been largely smothered by Anglo-Saxon migrations, he was given a mandate by Pope Gregory to marry the best of local traditions with the practice of Rome, and this approach remained a dynamic in subsequent reforms. This sort of philosophy surely encouraged a diverse liturgy, but the paucity of surviving manuscripts from before the tenth century stunts our appreciation of it.... We can develop a much clearer picture, however, of the liturgical activities of the later Anglo-Saxon church as the Benedictine Reform spurred the production of a plethora of liturgical books and other documentary witnesses to what has recently been referred to as a "period of national liturgical experiment and innovation."¹²

In the tenth century, Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, drew up what is considered the earliest extant playlet of the Visitatio Sepulchri. Complete with stage directions for its performance at Easter Matins, the scriptural core of the story—the visitation of the women at the tomb seen through the lens of the Roman Liturgy—can be said to represent the birth of medieval drama. The Regularis Concordia contains the written text of the Visitatio Sepulchri, along with staging directions. It appears to be a combination of two versions of the Quem quaertis ("Whom do you seek?"), a familiar medieval trope crafted into two episodes or scenes. This is accomplished by the introduction of two newly composed antiphons, Venite et videte locum ("Come and see the place") and Cito euntes ("Going quickly, tell the disciples") which can be found in The Winchester Troper, another tenth century document containing the text with music for the Visitatio Sepulchri at Winchester.

Three texts from the Vulgate serve as the source of the Quem quaertis dialogue used by Ethelwold and his associates: Matthew 28:1-8, Mark 16:1-8, and Luke 24:1-12. These tell the story of the "Marys" being met at the tomb by an Angel. According to the Regularis Concordia the Angel, wearing a simple white alb, "stealthily" makes his way during the third lesson of Matins to the area of the main altar, which in the Old Minster would have been oriented to the east. We have no description of the set piece representing the sepulcher, but it was most likely some sort of veiled receptacle located on or at the high altar; probably with a hollowed-out section for the placement of relics, thus already suggesting the idea of a tomb.

The Angel, poised at the tomb during the lesson, quietly sits watch over this liturgical "Jerusalem." This was evocatively rendered at the service of None on Good Friday, when "Golgotha" was poignantly recreated as all, bishop and novice alike, crept to the altar area for the adoration of the cross prior to the Depositio; then the cross and/or host wrapped in linen, symbolic of Christ's lifeless body, was placed at rest, thus creating the "Holy Sepulcher." The Angel awaits the women with a palm branch in hand; this acts as a polyvalent symbol, harkening not only the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem celebrated in the Palm Sunday liturgy, but also the imagery found in the book of Revelation (7:9) where the worshipping throngs gathered around the throne in heaven arrayed with crowns and holding palm fronds; finally, the palm could also be read as a hopeful "green" sign of new birth and new life.

Meanwhile, during the singing of the third responsory (Dum transisset sabbatum), the three women, traditionally called the "Marys" (who were actually men vested in copes, with thuribles in hand to represent the aromatic spices for the anointing) approach the sepulcher. Perhaps they enter north of the altar, where the worshipping community (composed of at least clergy, monks, novices, and boy singers, seated in two banks of stalls along the north and south sides near the high altar) catch sight of them as they wend their way around to the nave, and thus begin their doleful pilgrimage to the tomb. If seculars were present, the sight lines would have been quite good given the open basilica-style structure of the Old Minster. When the women draw near the sepulcher, "step by step," according to the rubrics, "as if searching for something," the Angel "sweetly" and "softly" intones the question that begins the traditional dialogue of the Quem quaertis: "Whom do you seek?" The Marys answer, "Jesus of Nazareth." This is followed by the angelic pronouncement, Non est hic, "He is not here, he is risen!"

The women make their way back to the two banks of stalls to tell the news of the resurrection, replete with the joyful alleluias that had been "put away" for the duration of Lent. The Angel then summons the women back to "come and see" the place inside of the tomb. The women lay down their thuribles and lift up the linen, now empty of cross and host, while the Angel exhorts the women to "go quickly and tell." Once the linen has been lifted for all to see, it is placed on the altar by Mary Magdalene in a gesture resembling the preparation for the Mass: here, in medieval sacramental thought most notably, Jesus is to be found. This is true not only for a novice being newly educated in the events of the paschal mystery, but also for seasoned monks, and seculars, if present, as well. The whole of the drama is brought to its conclusion, along with the Office of Easter Matins, with the singing of the Te Deum laudamus, while the bells ring out again after their silence, announcing the great joy of the resurrection.

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