I am a strong advocate of liturgical worship as the centerpiece for spiritual formation for missional communities. (As I wrote in the Great Giveaway) Over against the lecture hall or the feel-good pep-rally worship that has driven so much of Christendom evangelicalism, we gather to worship God as a holy transformative immersive engagement with God that shapes us for life with God and Mission.
Sometimes however, there is a danger in liturgy that must be discerned. We realize the inadequacies of modern evangelical worship practices for our day, and then we go immediately to high church practices (Anglican/Roman Catholic) and adopt high church liturgy as it is and impose it on a bunch of people who have no idea what we’re doing. In the process, our liturgy becomes inaccessible, foreign and imposed (in a Constantianian way which I will explain in a minute). And this is where I think most people get turned off to liturgy. This is why liturgy is incomprehensible to so many emerging types and they just reject it. Or, even worse, in a reaction to its imposed and inaccessible forms as found for instance sometimes in Roman Catholicism, emerging folk turn liturgy into trite new age experiential exercises. This is a problem for those of us who desire to go beyond lecture hall-ism and feel-good pep-rally-ism and proceed into the depths of encounter made possible via liturgical formation.
This problem of imposed liturgy has become more and more apparent to me when I see younger educated-type leaders in low church traditions don the robes and impose “all in one day” a liturgical tradition upon their low church folk (I had a friend say this to me about a group within the Church of the Nazarenes just recently). They too quickly claim ressourcement, discounting the insights from their own free church history: doing in essence to their own free church history what they have accused their free church of doing to the prior high church traditions that preceded them. A new liturgical fundamentalism has replaced a Biblicist fundamentalism, neither of which I am happy about.
All of this is to put forth my thesis: We should avoid Constantinian liturgy in a post-Constantian world. Let me try to unpack this statement in a blog-like fashion.
“Constantinian” refers generally to the conditions of Christendom beginning in the 4th century where through the edicts of the emperor Constantine the church joined hands with the worldly powers to become ensconced into a position of power and influence in Roman society. The church became the official religion and (eventually) the sanctioned culture of society. Yoderians (appreciators of John Howard Yoder like myself) see this as a mistake. Yet beyond Yoder, practically speaking, many of us see the days of Christendom here in the 21st century as long gone (and we say “good riddens”). It therefore makes no sense to carry out systems of liturgy which depend upon Christendom in a post-Christendom context.
Therefore I urge us involved in liturgical renewal to be aware of some Roman assumptions concerning liturgy which we simply cannot depend upon in today’s post Constantinian age:
1.) Everyone is catechesized. Constantinian liturgy assumes that everyone is catechesized: baptized as an infant, and basically enforced into a system of catechesis and confirmation. These people therefore have intensive training for what’s going on in this liturgy on Sunday morning. Today, we cannot assume anything of the sort. Indeed, it will take great effort to get anyone to come out to even a few sessions that teach on what we are doing at our worship gathering.
2.) Everyone is shaped elsewhere towards this end. Constantinian liturgy can assume that society as a whole is ordered towards Christian purposes. At the very least it is not hostile. The streets lead to the church, the festivals celebrate God, the market place is subordinate to Christ and His gifts, etc. This was Christendom. Therefore, the worship gathering under Christendom is in some sense a continuation in a sense of everyday life as opposed to an act of resistance. Today, in post-Christendom, we are shaped (the other six days of the week) in ways that are directly hostile to what happens at the Sunday morning gathering. Worship that assumes Christendom in these ways (as even evangelical worship forms do) can become quickly enclosed off from anyone who is not already initiated. I believe liturgy therefore must have a “resistance” quality to it. This often makes the community function central. Liturgy must have a binding effect that binds a community together in a Reality (trans)forming event in ways not as necessary in Christendom.
3.) Everyone speaks the same language. Constantinian liturgy assumes the language of thanksgiving and praise, Creator and Redeemer make sense to those in the gathering. These words are so rarely heard today that we cannot possibly assume to just say them and expect people to enter in and make sense. Today, liturgy must be sufficiently translated, with explanatory helps, all which do not depend upon too high expectations that people will devote themselves to elongated catechesis.
4.) The church is in a position of power. Constantinian liturgy makes assumptions about power. I believe the priestly prayer, where the priest takes on symbolism to the point of representing Christ at the Eucharist, has a Constantinian element to it. The way it possibly allows the priest to be separated from the congregation and elevated over the community smacks of a concentration of power that makes no sense via the communal programs of 1 Cor 12, Rom 6 and Eph 4. Here is where I have to move very cautiously here remembering the lessons of previous corruptions of the liturgy that happened here in prior centuries. To me this has Constantinian impulses to it. I see it having the potential to override the community forming-constituting dimension of the Eucharist.
In summary, when liturgy does not take into account the post-Constantinian nature of our situation in the world, it can become separatist, elitist, off putting, and inhospitable. Liturgy can go bad.
Now let me put forth a caveat here. I am NOT A LITURGICAL THEOLOGIAN. So I am looking to learn from others here.
Yet I nonetheless put forth this argument because I believe finding our liturgical way in worship is a challenge in our post Christendom context. It is a crucial and important challenge. We’re dealing with it at the Vine regularly. I believe the worship (liturgy) of God’s church must be driven by Scripture and historical wisdom. I believe some of our problems in evangelicalism today have been because we rejected history and thereby became Scripturally dubious as well. We cannot and should not invent liturgy. Neither should we explain it to death. We (that see the indispensability of liturgical worship and spiritual formation practices) must avoid both the trite liturgical exercises devoid of Scripture and historical integrity as well as high church liturgical “orthodoxy” that is too Constantinian to be workable for those of us who wish to engage a post Constantinian world.
P.S. For an example of spiritual practices (liturgy) engaged in post Constantinian fashion with both Scriptural and historical integrity, see Mark Van Steenwyk’s Missio dei Brevary. Also check out the classic Simon Chan’s Liturgical Theology for more help here.
Is anyone else out there dealing with these liturgical issues? Any resources you’ve fund helpful?
Facebook
Twitter
RSS
I’d very strongly commend your first two warnings — this is a place where those of us who study and practice liturgy need to tread very carefully.
For the third, I agree that explanation and translation are needed but would hasten to say that this cannot be done well during the process itself; once you say e.g. “in a tradition that goes back to medieval Germany, we light this candle to remind ourselves of hope” you have seized power as a leader over the experience and redefined it, and the formational process shifts dramatically into an “education” mode rather than a “liturgy” one. Explanations and reflections are hugely important for liturgy to work, but to avoid defoming the praxis, they need to happen after the praxis in a different kind of environment.
For the last one, I might just point out that the “alter Christus” idea of the priest during the Eucharistic prayer is rather peculiarly Roman Catholic. I don’t think there are too many Anglicans who would affirm that idea or the power dynamics that could go with it — although there seem to me to be just as many power dynamics (in fact, more, but that’s coming from my bias) in the way nonliturgical churches sometimes seem to define their clergy as spiritual experts and reserve much of the worship services for hearing that one person talk and read.
Oh, and I forgot to add: liturgy as resistance. That’s absolutely the deal!
This is an issue we struggle with constantly in our community. We want liturgy that shapes and forms us, is grounded in Scripture, symbolically meaningful (as well as semantically meaningful), and also is accessible enough so that we can step into it without too steep a learning curve.
However, we also recognize that there needs to be a learning curve, because what we’re doing is radically counter-cultural – we need to be trained into the liturgy, because it doesn’t follow the same patterns as people are used to – it isn’t a 30-minute sitcom or a 90-minute action film.
But, we also are realizing that people need to be trained into liturgy at an appropriate pace. Part of what we do is “small” teachings on why we do what we do in the middle of what we’re doing (only sometimes), but we also are starting a class on worshiping liturgically this fall, which is an opportunity for people to dive deeper into understanding liturgy so they can participate in it more fully and meaningfully.
One resource I’ve recently come across that seems to embody “best practices” (i.e. taking the traditions of the church and combining them with very local liturgical expression) is Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources, from South Yarra Baptist Church in Australia. Especially for those following the Revised Common Lectionary, it has been a wonderful source of prayers and liturgical expression for us.
David, I appreciate this series and your perspective on this topic. As a denominational leader who visits many different congregations I’ve noticed a wrestling with this issue. I often hear people refer to liturgy as something other than what we currently do. There is tendency to borrow from “liturgical” traditions, but all worship is “liturgical” in that it has form, ritual and pattern.
I like the German word Gottesdeinst (literally service to God) which reflects an active individual and corporate response to God’s work in our lives. Worship is our response to our experience of God in a specific local and historical context. My point is simply that liturgy is not “something other” we should do, but is the shape and form of service we give God whenever we gather. The tragedy is therefore compounded when we fail to reflect on our liturgy, submit to it and shape it so that worship is indeed always “indigenous” in every context. Borrowing “liturgy” from others, without careful reflection and integration, emasculates worship and robs it of a powerful transformative witness.
Nice Post. Thanks.
David,
I am trying to understand what you mean when you say “We cannot and should not invent liturgy.” What then are you identifying as liturgy and where did/does it come from?
Just beginning to wrestle with this here, and in the context of a mixed community.. some raised in church, some not, and others coming from a variety of bad experiences.. I have the Missio Dei breviary, I’ll crack it again and also check out the link offered by Ben (thanks!)
Beth,
You say explanation should happen elsewhere in order to avoid deforming the praxis. I wonder if I can provoke you to unpack how you see explanation as deforming praxis. I go back and forth on this one and would love some insight.
I am very interested to see how this progresses. I am a member of a traditional liturgical community, and have been amazed to see various emergent/evangelical groups beginning to use and connect with our ancient practices.
In my formation process, I have been reading about the Patron of my Order, St. Gregory the Great.
St. Gregory tells us in his Pastoral Rule, that there is a danger in transforming “supplies for the journey into hindrances to arrival at the journey’s end”.
What he was talking about in those days were monasteries, habits, prayer books, all the various and detailed liturgical practices in place then. They are never to be the end of our worship, and if they do not point you to Jesus, if they do not reveal the Invisible in this world of space, time and matter, then they are of little or no worth.
In and of themselves, liturgical practices are good things, but when they become the point of our worship, they can distract us from Jesus, the Author of our Faith.
Great blog, think I will hang around.
Jon,
Sure. My remark is kind of a truism among liturgical theologians; just to cite one heavy-hitter, Aidan Kavanaugh fanously writes that “the liturgy forms, it does not educate.” This line of thought would say that when we interrupt liturgical action to explain to people what we are doing and what we personally see it as meaning, we devolve into education, a fundamentally non-liturgical action (tho a good one in and of itself, of course).
So people cease engaging with God and the process, and engage with the person speaking. It’s as if a character in a play turned to the audience and said, “I’m going to yell now, to show you that my character is angry.”
Another issue is that explaining a symbol inevitably makes it less polyvalent and narrows what it can mean to people, turning it into a literalistic sign that is much less powerful and communicates to the psyche in a different mode than a symbol does. The classic liturgical actions did not arise out of a simple desire to teach or illustrate a point, but are much more complex, primal, and open to interpretation. (Sometimes this leads to pastors feeling nervous about the power of symbol and having a need to try and control what their congregations experience by putting a verbal overlay on it.)
Education about liturgy is fine; reflection on praxis is fine (and has a long pedigree as the way the church fathers dealt with new converts) — but I think most liturgical theologians would argue strongly against interrupting the liturgy to do it. A brief talk before the liturgy begins, or giving people a handout about what to expect, or a reflection group immediately after, are a few ways I’ve seen that kind of teaching done well in very close proximity to the experience itself.
Thank you, Beth, for your clarification about the tension between education and praxis. As one who’s time in the academy has been spent on other disciplines, I think your example about the actor is a good one. (Though a Dramatist might inquire, “what’s wrong with Brechtian liturgy?”–but I digress.)
To continue with that theatrical analogy, your proposed line (“I’m going to yell now…”) is clearly ridiculous because we, the audience, personally and experientially understand what yelling is.
Shouldn’t we then find the symbols that actually communicate? If liturgy (and I think we could do better to define that term) is about symbolism, shouldn’t we reject those symbols which have lost their meaning, rather than work hard to teach people what these symbols mean? I’m suggesting we put the symbolism of liturgy into the vernacular just as we put the language into the vernacular centuries ago. Let’s speak in English, rather offer classes in Latin.
If we are truly missional in our orientation, then we really shouldn’t be trying to acculturate our congregants into a liturgical tradition so much as incarnate liturgy within our culture. Put simply, create liturgy that transforms people and culture, rather than transform people so they can participate in the liturgy.
Nate — indeed. True, ample, honest symbols (like fire, darkness, silence, soaking someone with water or oil) will almost always communicate and draw people in, even overwhelm them. Dessicated, obscure, churchy, pious remnants of such symbols, to go back to Kavanaugh, “are disposable, foster a disposable piety, and should be disposed of.”
I would commment tho, that leaders/planners probably need to be aware how profoundly people who show up to worship have *already* been formed (by consumerism, entertainment culture, etc) and expect to have to do *some* detox/acculturation work whatever the style in which our worship takes place.
There ideally would, I hope, always be a sort of bi-directional transforming effect when we do that work of incarnation you so rightly speak about — we’re transformed to be able to access more thoroughly Christian ways of bringing life to the altar (again, *whatever* our worship style – not trying to be exclusive here!), and as that encounter becomes more powerful and relevant, it transforms how we engage life and culture. Ideally!!
How would you start “find the symbols that actually communicate”?
What are you trying to communicate, and does the story go both ways?
Liturgy means something like the work of the people, or public duty. It requires community and in my understanding can not be done alone. That being said, are some of your symbols arising from the community itself? That is where the Temple worship in Israel came from, as well as the ancient Worship of the Church – things people did naturally.
Hey everybody, great discussion! I read this blog all the time and I always find I am brought deeper into the discussion through these comments.
hey everyone, my apologies on not responding more to these comments, all of which are so helpful. In fact, thank you Beth for “moderating”this blog post … its been rich! I’ve been caught up in a few othe discussions and projects and clas business … so Beth et al. keep up the great learning going on here .. DF
That’s kind of you to say David — this has been a great discussion from all directions I think!
Don’t know if this is the place for my comment, but here goes. I’ve been trying to figure out how liturgy can be forming since I began studying under Robert Webber. A few weeks ago my wife and I were visiting friends and went to their church. We sat right up front middle as we like to do. It was a small place and on the table up front were a cross to the left, a bunch of white lilies to the right and a simple painting of a sprouting plant in the middle. The elements for the Eucharist were placed in the front of the table. Now my wife and I had a great discussion about what those symbols meant afterward, but as I think back I am glad no one started giving explanations for each part. It was a rich experience for both myself and my wife.
On the other hand, just 2 weeks ago we went to a church that spent almost 5 minutes describing what the Eucharist meant and giving instructions. I almost couldn’t wait to go partake because now I had a meaning for it.
Just a couple of thoughts.
beth, helpful thoughts, makes perfect sense. So much of this seems to be about recovering rhythms, but also understanding the relationship of parts to the whole. It’s good to see that we are escaping the rationalistic, technocratic paradigm that shaped.. and fragmented.. our communities.
“Shouldn’t we find symbols that
actually communicate..If we are truly missional in our orientation, then we shouldn’t be trying to acculturate our congregants into a liturgical tradition so much as incarnate liturgy within our culture. Put simply, create liturgy that transforms people and culture…”
Beth: “indeed.. [but we] need to be aware how profoundly people who show up to worship have *already* been formed ..”
so there are no “pure” symbols.. they all have cultural and historical content, just as do words (which are another form of symbol). So adopting an existing liturgical form is also adopting a whole way of seeing the world, one that has been largely lost. But we could invent our own new ways, based on alternate and older ways of seeing, yet if we do that, if we reinvent in order to move back, we risk a loss of connection with the older story where if we embrace existing patterns and symbols we reconnect with older memories. This is where I have come out anyway…
There is an old saying “lex orandi lex credendi”. It means how you pray, is how you believe.
I think the way a community worships is VERY formative on the hearts of those who participate. Liturgy requires participation, not limply setting and listening to someone preach to you. I think it changes how people view their faith, it makes them more involved.
I also very much enjoy these comments, and the post too.
But I have a hesitation. While the church may have fallen under Constantine and become established (and therefore took up the means of violence), I’m not sure that this therefore taints all liturgical forms practiced within the Constantinian era.
Another way of saying this is that while certainly liturgical forms were crusted over by Constantine, the previous core (or essential structure) had been well established before Constantine, enduring during Constantine and after.
A right concern of Constantinianism should not cause us to opt out from hard liturgical research on how/why certain forms took shape as they did. Otherwise we are apt to merely develop a new (liturgically) improved ‘seeker-sensitive’ worship service under the guise of being missional.
catechesized ?
What about the concept of liturgy being catholic (little c) and the universalness of symbols. I am all for being missional and incarnational – but what do you do to maintain the “localness” of liturgical symbols but yet still connect with the “one..catholic … church?”
This is a great discussion as the leaders of our church are making a transition as a church from a lowe church tradition to implementing liturgical formation.