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In defense of the Liturgy

Having spent 30 years wandering among various evangelical camps (referring to the “new” evangelicals, not the more broad definition that would include Lutherans, the first group to call themselves “evangelical”), I know that most Western Christians today suffer from a historical myopia, and are largely ignorant about the rest of the Church. There are many Christians who think they know about the liturgical church, but what they know is not only very small, some of it is more myth than truth. The Western Evangelical church, speaking in general terms, is not only myopic, but often adds arrogance to their ignorance. This is not true of everyone, obviously, but I’ve witnessed it on many of the evangelical blogs I have visited, as have witnessed it first-hand, not only by common-class Christians, but also by Pastors, who of all people should know better.  One of the more common issues concerns the liturgy itself, which is often seen as dry, lifeless, and lacking in any kind of personal spirituality. There’s an old joke that liturgy is there in case the Holy Spirit doesn’t show up. However, nothing can be further from the truth.

One of the primary complaints about liturgy is that everything is scripted for you; there is no room for spontaneity. This is, of course, true for the most part, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Neither is it that different from the typical non-liturgical church.  Most evangelical churches that I have attended follow the same basic format each week, so after the first couple of visits you pretty much know what is happening from then on.  For the first section of the service, there is music, whether a half hour of choruses, or a combination of performance and congregational singing. None of the songs are written by you, or chosen by you; that’s up to whoever is in charge. The words to the songs are all written down for you, whether in a hymnal or displayed on the big screen; unless you’re the worship leader, you have no ability to alter them.  At some point, there are announcements, probably an offering, and a sermon.  There’s probably an ending song of some sort, then you go home.  It doesn’t sound that spontaneous, does it?  Not only that, you really didn’t get to do much. Church is performed by professionals, for you.

The major difference between liturgical and non-liturgical worship is not that things are written down for you; the difference is in the content. I got tired of singing 30-40 minutes of songs, most of which contained little or no truth about God. Many of the songs express the personal feelings and experiences of the songwriter, and can’t possibly represent either universal truth or the feelings of everyone in attendance.

In a liturgical church, you would sing songs, all of which contain serious theological truths. You would confess that you are a sinner, acknowledge your forgiveness, recite one of the creeds, and pray a few well-conceived prayers, including the Lord’s Prayer.  Everything in the liturgy applies to everyone, at every time. Some of the liturgy actually dates back to the 4th Century, and the same words and thoughts have been said thousands of times by millions of Christians down through the ages. Besides being universally true, the liturgy connects us to the historical church (another element that is completely missing in most non-liturgical churches).

Besides that, you would have heard the Bible read, not just proof-texts to support the pastor’s sermon, but read with the intent of letting the Word impact you. You’d hear from the Old Testament, the Psalms, the Epistles, and the Gospel. There would be a short sermon based on one of the Scripture texts, and then you’d celebrate the Eucharist (i.e. communion). The entire service – with the exception of the 10 minute sermon and perhaps some special music by the choir – is participatory.

The liturgy is, in effect, a play, in which the pastor has a role (celebrant), as does everyone else; it is a dramatic reenactment of the Gospel. When you attend a liturgical worship service, you do not go to sit, you go to participate.  And, because the liturgy is so intentional, scripted and theologically sound, there’s very little a pastor/priest can do to hijack the service. It doesn’t matter if he has an off day; the liturgy remains as always. In fact, in a liturgical church, the pastor is easily replaceable, with little effect. And, you never have to worry about whether the pastor will have anything meaningful to say. In liturgical churches, it’s not about the sermon. The content is in the liturgy itself. If you pay attention to the liturgy, the truth will amaze you, and there will be no doubt that the Holy Spirit is present.  Furthermore, how you feel isn’t important. It’s not about how well you worshiped, or whether you felt spiritual; in fact, the point of the liturgy is that it isn’t dependent upon you at all.

There are scores of evangelicals, including seminary professors, who are joining the liturgical churches as they, too, are drawn toward the truth and power of the liturgy.  For a little more on what liturgy is all about, here is a nice little article that sums it all up.

Communion, reality, Plato’s Cave and parallel universes

While I am not nearly as fond of Plato as some, I think I can understand why many Christians hold to somewhat of a Platonic Idealism; the belief that “the other side” is more real than the physical world seems to fit in with much of Christian thinking on the nature of reality.  I thought that C.S. Lewis did a marvelous job in exploring that concept in The Great Divorce, one of my favorite Lewis works.  I also can understand – in a sense – the belief that parallel universes exist. The idea that reality branches off in a decision tree, where all potentials are real somewhere, is intriguing, even if the theory is based on some questionable approaches to mathematics. Some of my favorite fiction is that which explores the nature of reality. It’s just fun to think about.

And then, sometimes I just encounter reality.

My neighbor, Randy, is pastor of one of the larger churches in our area, which I understand is one of the only 3 growing churches in town.  Randy’s a really great guy, we like him a lot. His church, on the surface, is one of those white, middle-class, conservative evangelical churches that I have a really hard time with.  However, this church is not your normal evangelical church, and Randy is not your normal evangelical pastor. He knows, for example, that life sometimes is very hard; a few years ago his son, still a teenager, simply died after a game of golf.  Randy never lost his faith, however the joy of golf is no more.

So, we visit Randy’s church on occasion.  He speaks truth, from the heart, and has no need for followers, or for your money. The church is on its 2nd huge building project in 6 years, but they only build what they have money for.  They don’t take an offering, people drop it in the basket on their way out.  The first time we visited, I confess I had a hard time dealing with the whole middle-class evangelical culture thing; while I sensed there was something more beneath the surface, I wasn’t sure that I had the patience to deal with the surface.  Then, of course, there’s evangelicalism itself…

While I have some difficulty with evangelical culture, I have perhaps more of an issue with evangelical theology; being self-consciously modern, they’ve done away with anything approximating mystery or the unexplainable, preferring to turn sacraments into mere memorials or “testimonies.”  They have, for the most part, accepted Plato’s dualism; they live life in the “cave,” looking for some future escape into a supernatural reality. Sometimes, in their attempts to bring some kind of faith element back into the sacraments, they become more like superstitions than anything else.  For this reason, I don’t take communion in the church we’ve attended for 7 years, or in most evangelical churches.

Surprised by Reality

This past Sunday, Randy’s church celebrated communion, which they tend to do once a month.  There, I had an experience of Reality. Rather than tack communion on at the end of the service as kind of the “weird uncle” of church practice, they center their morning around it. I was amazed… even Lutherans don’t put that much emphasis on communion.  Even though this is a regular practice for this church, Randy spoke at length about the meaning of communion as if they had never done it before, and I think what he had to say would have made most Lutherans feel at home, as well as most evangelicals.  As we took communion (even though they were little crackery things and grape juice), I encountered reality, or what is sometimes called the Real Presence.

I am not talking about any molecular changes or pseudo-cannibalistic superstitions, but a simple experience of Reality, a connection between parallel realities. It’s not a physical multiverse thing or even a Platonic vision of reality, neither of which I believe in.  I do believe that our material universe is entirely real, is not just a cave of shadows, but is “spiritual” in its own right. However, I do believe that there exists another reality, known theologically as the Kingdom of God/Heaven, and that God has provided a number of “contact points” by which this reality can be touched by those of us currently inhabiting our material universe. Communion is one such point, where – in a manner of speaking – Heaven touches Earth.

Being I was in a setting where I didn’t expect it, my epiphany, this sudden awareness of Reality, took me by surprise.

Is it mystical? You bet.  Is it detectable by any scientific means?  I don’t think so.  Is it irrational?  Not at all; such a reality is, as I’ve said, conceivable by better minds than mine.  To those who haven’t encountered Reality, it is indescribable.  However, for those of us who have encountered Reality, it is simply undeniable.