Newsletter #54
On Understanding the Liturgy
A Baptist, Anglican, and Lutheran walk into a restaurant...
The Religious Version of Cheers
Last week I had lunch with a few friends. One is a former Southern Baptist who often identifies as an Anglican, though he worships at a Presbyterian church, so that’s fun. We met while we were students in the PhD program at Concordia, a Lutheran seminary. He was formerly a missionary and then later a staff member at one of the largest evangelical multisite churches in America. He has become a cherished friend through the years.
The second friend was a brilliant, former professor of mine. It’s fair to say that he’s entrenched in his Lutheran commitments. He’s the Chairman of Concordia’s Systematic Theology department, an excellent Greek scholar, and consummate organist. He received his PhD from Notre Dame, a premier Catholic university.
I describe these friends in these ways not because they are what’s most important about them. Rather, these details give a sense of the kind of religious and liturgical backgrounds that shape these brothers’ perspectives.
The topic of liturgy arose in our conversation, as I recall, when my Baptist-Anglican friend reflected on a specific moment in his church’s weekly worship. They have a moment called “A Quiet Minute.” I took this to mean a moment in the service when people are encouraged to be still before the Lord, to collect their thoughts, to take a deep breath and consider their hearts. Assuming I’ve more or less described this liturgical act accurately, it seems like a fine idea to me. While it could seem unnatural (unfamiliar) in many church circles, I think we’d all do well to not look at worship as something that can be assessed by the standards of efficiency.
I think of the countless worshipers who gather each Sunday and desperately need to be made to slow down, be still, and take a moment to recognize the Lord’s presence. I myself had a pretty hectic morning yesterday. Even as I sat down to teach a Sunday School class/small group, I felt that I could use a moment or two to set some thoughts aside and look to God.
My friend felt similarly, but he was troubled. He noted that every Sunday, regardless of who is leading the worship service, they take 2-3 minutes (approximately) explaining the “Quiet Minute.” They say what the minute isn’t about, what it isn’t for, how it shouldn’t be viewed or approached. I couldn’t help but think that this sounded similar to how many of my fellow Free Will Baptists take more time explaining what the Lord’s Supper isn’t than what it is. No wonder some people say our view of the Lord’s Supper might be best described as “real absence.”
My friend was frustrated and annoyed. He understood, to some degree, why the worship leaders felt that they needed to explain things. His church wanted to be mindful of newcomers. They tended to draw in disconnected Christians who had become disenchanted with the church and were beginning to find their way back. So, a brief explanation of unique liturgical acts might be beneficial to those from different backgrounds. Still, he felt that things went a bit far. Do we really need to explain this away each week? Perhaps only occasionally would be sufficient. And doesn’t the liturgy itself adequately communicate meaning to people? When something meaningful has been said or done, or one learns after a few visits that something meaningful is just ahead in the liturgy, won’t they intuitively figure out the nature and function of the Quiet Minute?
My friend raised some great points, ones shared by our other friend and me as well. On some level, we all understand the concern: how can we be clear about what we’re doing and why we’re doing it while not trying to explain away everything? Or, are we assuming that our worship practices—which include both ancient ones and others that bear the marks of antiquity—somehow lack the ability to “do their work” on our bodies, minds, and hearts on their own? Or does the intelligibility of our practices derive partly (even if not largely) from the larger doctrinal context and social life of the church?
These are deep waters. Let’s try to ease into them by considering a few key principles. Mind you, my intent is to construct something of a response to those who wonder about “over-communicating” in worship. To put it differently, how should we be thinking about letting the liturgy do its work?
We’re All Doing Liturgy
“Liturgy” isn’t a word that Baptists have frequently used to describe what they do in worship. Nevertheless, it fits. There’s an order to things. There’s sometimes a meaning ascribed to this order. Besides the order, the elements themselves are thought to be communicating something.
I’m fully aware that not every effort at worship service construction is a self-conscious one. But ask the average worshiper this question: is it important that this particular order of worship (including the elements) prevail in your services each week? More than likely, most long-time worshipers will say yes. They may say yes for different reasons. They may offer different rationalizations. They may even say, “Why yes, this approach is important, but I can’t quite explain it. It just feels right.” That they have so internalized what they’ve experienced over time that they’d be willing to defend it says something. It’s not always unthinking traditionalism. For many through the ages, it’s simply the power of human action in response to Divine truth.
Mindful of the Outsider
Any thorough discussion of liturgical communication would have to take seriously what I’ll call “the principle of the outsider.” First, we know well the experience of having unbelievers present in our services. Often these are unbelievers who have little to no background in Christian worship. As a pure matter of hospitality and love for such people, we try to help them understand at least some of what they are seeing and experiencing. I suppose we could also just as easily say we’re honoring biblical truth. After all, if we believe what we’re saying and doing has biblical warrant, then we could say that to give a brief account of these things is to lift high God’s truth.
Second, we’re also mindful of the biblical references to the presence of outsiders in Christian worship. See 1 Corinthians 14 and you can appreciate the apostle Paul’s desire to call the Corinthian church to embrace Christ’s love, to recognize their mutual giftedness, and to consider the clarity of their actions not only to each other, but to the outsider. We should not suppose that Paul was commending the full “Seeker Sensitive script” from the 1980s and 90s, but we should acknowledge the obvious: Christian worship need not be overly strange, ambiguous, and head scratching in order to be faithful.
Mindful of the Times
In a environment such as ours, it also makes sense to consider how people’s lack of familiarity with Christianity might lead us to be educational about our liturgical life. I hesitate to use a cliché like “post-Christian context,” but yes, something like that seems to be the case. So we do well to not assume too much about anything when it comes to those outsiders in our midst.
The big question revolves around the how and when of this education. Should it be embedded into the liturgy itself? (my friend’s concern) The worship bulletin? The announcements on the screen? The new members’ class? Sunday evening worship? It’s a curious thing that churches have so quickly abandoned or nixed so many potentially helpful tools, post-COVID, in the name of change, flexibility, and efficiency. I’m not suggesting that the way forward is the same for all of us. By no means! But do I wonder if we have some ways of educating people about the how and why of worship that may not require a sermonette before every element each week.
Mindful of Our Context
Will our approach to liturgy be shaped by our denominational tradition? Our community? Our region? Our season of ministry? Our church’s age? Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. While there’s no direct line one can or should draw between these contextual factors and their church’s worship decisions, there are certainly connections and influences.
I entirely expect for a church plant, a revitalization ministry, and an established, healthy church to resolve some of these liturgical questions differently. Perhaps they won’t resolve them differently in the most overt of ways, but prudence about our situation matters.
Mindful of Our Theology
Probably the thorniest issue that would divide Christians over the nature of “liturgical education” is what they actually believe about the sacraments or ordinances. After all, this worship area would be most ripe for explanation and education. Most churches will have some stock explanation they give about what they’re doing in baptism, the Lord’s Supper, or other sacramental elements.
The most obvious historical-theological issue is summed up in the Latin phrase “ex opere operato.” Needless to say, it’s complicated. In short, the phrase refers to the belief that sacraments confer grace upon the recipient when the act is properly administered. It’s more about God’s power and promise to offer His grace rather than the actions or attitudes of the recipient—although those aren’t unimportant.
To return to the initial issue at hand, if we just do what we’re going to do in a service, trusting that the action has some substantial biblical warrant and spiritual benefit, can and should we just dispense with the explanations, qualifications, and caveats? Well, that would depend on what one’s theology of worship actually looks like. That will speak to what the acts themselves are doing or not doing.
For Goodness Sake’s, Just Think it Through
In addition to taking on board the aforementioned considerations, I’ll venture to sound a bit common-sensical. Maybe we just need to think things through more.
When the Pastor(s) and Music Minister meet to discuss the service, should they proactively consider the connection between song lyrics and the sermon text? How many Scriptural allusions might be valuable to draw out? Is there something out of the ordinary happening this Sunday that might even seem new to some longer-term members? Will children be present at that moment in the service?
I can envision quite a few other conversations about liturgy plans that might be good opportunities to think about the actions themselves, but also their timing, their administration, their purpose, and more. This doesn’t mean that thinking hard will always yield obvious answers to our concerns over liturgical intelligibility, but maybe some dialogue between worship leaders and worshipers alike might help lead to better choices.
I agree with Bryan Chapell’s sentiment: structures tell stories. We all ought to think more carefully about ours. It doesn’t mean we start explaining every little jot and tittle of the service. However, we’d respect people’s need to understand alongside their need to be formed. Good worship, I would contend, will gradually provide both understanding and formation.
Follow-Up:
In last week’s newsletter I reflected on diversity, especially with reference to our notions of churches looking like their neighborhoods. In his recent newsletter, Ray Pennings raises some helpful questions challenging our obsession with acronyms (including ones like DEI). He seeks to provide some careful balance to the diversity discussion. Take a look here and here.
Currently Reading:
Bryan Chapell, Christ-Centered Worship: Letting the Gospel Shape Our Practice
Quote of the Week:
“Scholarship is not the most important thing in the Christian life. It is self-evident for a religion to which not many are called from the ‘wise by human standards’ (1 Cor. 1:26) that a believer may live and die an exemplary existence without pursuing the questions of a scholar. But the intellectual life is still important. It is one of the arenas that God has made in which to live out our days. It is a legitimate sphere in which Christians may be active. It is one of the activities carried on in the body of Christ, all of whose members, as the apostle Paul teaches, deserves respect. As such—and no more—the life of the mind deserves the kind of cultivation that evangelicals regularly bestow upon their other business. If evangelicals acknowledge that it is appropriate, as a Christian, to be the best ball player or lawyer or bank executive or auto mechanic or operator of a janitorial service or owner of a retirement home or third-grade teacher that God has made it possible for a person to be, why do evangelicals find it difficult to believe that it is also appropriate, as a Christian, to cultivate the life of the mind as thoroughly as it can be cultivated?”
Mark Noll in The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind