Thursday, December 1, 2011

Liturgy

This past Sunday I went to church with a friend. It was a mainline Protestant church, and I learned two things from the experience: that liturgy is very important to me, and that I have to be careful not to mistake the way I like to do things for the way things must be done.

The church was overall very nice. People were friendly and welcoming, the music was lovely, we sang all the verses of the hymns, and the pastor seemed to be a genuinely caring person. We had a call to worship, sang a hymn, had an Old Testament and a Gospel reading, listened to a sermon, shared prayers, said the Lord's Prayer; heard an anthem during the offertory, sang the Doxology and another hymn, and had a benediction. It reminded me a lot of the church services I had as a kid growing up in the Presbyterian church. It was a very nice service undoubtedly focused on worshiping God.

And yet there was so much that I missed: crossing myself at various points in worship; sitting, standing, and kneeling at different times; blessing God's kingdom now and forever; praying the various collects; responding “Thanks be to God” at the readings; singing a Psalm; hearing an Epistle reading; singing a gradual hymn; standing for the Gospel reading; crossing my mind, lips, and heart for the Gospel reading; following the structure of the Prayers of the People; being blessed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And, of course, the Eucharist (which the church I visited does have, just not every week). I missed the prayer of confession and the peace, the Great Thanksgiving, the Sanctus, proclaiming the mystery of faith, and of course actually receiving Communion and sharing the common cup.

I think there are three parts to my feeling of unrest from that worship service and my sense that things were missing. The first is the sense of doing something. All the “Episcopal aerobics” and responses and motions help me to focus on what's going on and feel like an active participant. There's a reason why liturgy is “the work of the people.” For me, that active role is what makes me feel like I'm worshiping.

The second reason has to do with a combination of tradition and theology. Not that the theology is actually hugely different. I've talked theology a lot with the friend whose church I visited, and we're largely on the same page. It was more a matter of emphasis during the worship. Starting the service by blessing the Triune God and proclaiming His kingdom seems to me to orient worship on the very essence of Christianity. Having the blessing in the name of the Trinity again affirms that central faith in who God is. Hearing an Old Testament, Psalm, Epistle, and Gospel reading according to a lectionary assures that you'll hear just about all the Bible over several years (and I think the church I visited does use a lectionary, though maybe not as strictly as mine does, and with only two readings, at least this past Sunday). And the language of the prayer book both ties in to all that theology and also in its beauty points to the wonder and mystery and majesty of God. Of course there's also something to be said for the language of worship to be understandable, not so far removed from the everyday language of the people as to lose meaning. Services in Latin are not for me. And I even prefer Rite II to Rite I. But for me the structure of the prayer book liturgy provides a richness of meaning, that these same words are used over and over and sort of gather the meaning of common worship spanning time and place.

Finally, I find that liturgical worship, and the Eucharist in particular, gives me a sense of community with the people I'm worshiping with. The peace allows me a chance to greet everyone around me, and I find it especially meaningful to do so by sharing Christ's peace. Getting up for Communion and participating in all the little bits of cooperation that make it happen smoothly binds us together, not all at once, but by doing so Sunday after Sunday, year in and year out. And of course the actual sharing of Christ's Body and Blood, in whatever mysterious way that happens – being “made one with God's people in heaven and on earth.” And of course this is true for the church I visited as well; we are all one Body in Christ, my church and that church and all other churches. The difference, I think, is one of emphasis. Even the sitting and standing and kneeling and crossing and responding is part of the sense of community for me, in that we're all doing this liturgical work together.

So I have good reasons to love liturgy and to love my church, but it's important that I don't let those get in the way of loving God and loving my neighbor. And I have the sense that if I'm not careful and intentional in my thinking, I could slide down that path. It's easy for me to forget that some of the things I consider to be important traditions of the Episcopal church, like celebrating the Eucharist every Sunday, are actually only slightly older than I am. I know I'm at risk for being one of the grumblers whenever the prayer book next gets revised.

But I need to keep in mind that the way I like to worship isn't the only way to worship. Liturgy works very well for me, and there's certainly nothing wrong with it, but God wants justice and mercy more than particular kinds of prayers, and worship without love is just noise, no matter how traditional it may be. It's an odd sort of tension, because I really do believe that liturgical worship helps me connect to God like nothing else does, and that it really is important and worthwhile for that reason, and the conversations and discernments we have within the church about how to worship aren't just idle chatter about ornamentation. And yet, I'm also sure that God is also well-pleased with my friend's church and with churches that use worship styles that I find almost painful (TV screens and praise bands come to mind). Even if it's not the way I worship, it still has value if it brings people closer to God and to one another, so it's important for me to keep an open heart and resist my urge to judge.

And some of that comes easily. I can say wholeheartedly that a powerpoint-and-praise-band church with true community and commitment is better than a liturgical church where no one is challenged or changed. The trouble is that I want to continue by saying that a liturgical church with love and justice and mercy is best of all, when really what it is is that's best for me. I won't say that I don't think God cares about our worship – I think He cares very much. But I think there are many different varieties of faithful expression depending on a community's history and circumstances, so that my natural sense of liturgy as being “the right way” is unfounded.

God of faithfulness and abundance, help me to balance my love of a particular community and tradition with a radical welcome for all Your people in their diversity of experiences and expressions, that together we may reflect your unending goodness in all its variety. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

2 comments:

  1. This s a thoughtful reflection on liturgies and their meaning, but it does not reflect agnosticism as I understand its definition.

    After years of checking my brain with my coat in the narthex, I have been developing liturgies that make sense to me, and it has been an evolutionary process. So far I have written Celtic Morning Prayer, Celtic Morning Prayer Rite II, and A Christian Liturgy For Today. None of these have really reflected fully my feelings of agnosticism.

    Today I have been refining an Agnostics' Creed as the basis for an Agnostics' Liturgy, because without a liturgy it is hard to envision communal religious worship.

    Here it is:

    Agnostics’ Creed

    • We believe in an all-prevailing indestructible energy in the cosmos that has no beginning and no end; we call this energy God.

    • We accept that this energy has evolved beyond the ability of the human mind to comprehend.

    • We accept the five laws of biologic life: procreation, random mutation, competition, selection, and death.

    • We believe the cost of survival of all living creatures to be the transformation of energy, and that all living creatures exist through the consumption of other forms of life.

    • We accept that religion and faith exist as necessary transient constructs to explain those mysteries that we have not yet unraveled.

    • We await proof of original sin, everlasting life, and that God exists as an anthropomorphic being approachable through prayer or supplication for forgiveness and salvation.

    • We believe that education, understanding, reverence for life, and unconditional love, are essential for interpersonal and societal civility, tranquility, charity, justice, and the prevention of war.

    I am a scientist, a sceptic, and an optimist, and I thank you for your thoughts.

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  2. I understand how the title of my blog could seem misleading. It's hard to come up with a title! I read a book called "The Christian Agnostic" when I was a teenager that helped me a lot at that time, and so I was partly hearkening back to that with my title. And partly dealing with the fact that, although I love the Episcopal church, I've had times where I've felt like I need to be away for a while, and might experience that again. And then also playing with the Greek etymology a-gnostos = not known - the fact that I don't know a whole lot!

    My own experience has been that I find meaning in pretty orthodox Christian belief. I am also a scientist - bachelor's in physics, master's in ecology - and I don't see any opposition between science and faith. I readily admit that I don't apply the scientific method to my faith, though I certainly do use reason in trying to understand God. But if God is infinitely more powerful than I am, I don't figure He's subject to experimentation the way the natural world is. This doesn't bother me as a scientist because there are many aspects of my life that I don't run scientifically; I don't use a scientific process to choose my friends or determine what kind of music I like. (I guess I do use empiricism in the sense of try something and see if I like it, but I'm not seeking a unified theory of my personal tastes).

    I certainly agree that procreation, mutation, competition, selection, and death exist and that their interplay is important for explaining the biology we see around us; and that transformation of energy is necessary for life - though I'm not sure whether you mean living creatures to include plants and chemotrophs or not - since they don't have to consume other life-forms (at least not directly - you could certainly talk about minerals being recycled as organisms die). I'm also waiting for proof of everlasting life and of God's personhood, but I don't expect to find it on this side of eternity, and in the meantime, I accept it as a working hypothesis. And of course, education, understanding, love, and reverence for life are definitely important to a good and meaningful life and a stable society - we've got plenty of common ground there to work on improving the world!

    This may have been more information than you wanted, in which case I apologize. I hope you're enjoying the Christmas/holiday/solstice season in whatever way is meaningful to you!

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