When the word “confession” comes up in a conversation about Christian worship, it usually is taken to mean confession of sin. Although it happens that some are wary of using that term, perhaps because it smacks of laying on a guilt trip. One good alternative I’ve seen is “Prayer for Reconciliation.” The common, and more straightforward term, however, is “Confession of Sin.”
There is also another kind of confession that takes place on Sunday morning—or at least it should. It goes by the name of “Confession of Faith.”
The Confession of Sin and the Confession of Faith appear at different places in the order of worship. Confession of Sin usually comes shortly before the reading of Scripture and proclamation of the Word in sermon. The Confession of Faith most often appears closely following the Scripture and sermon. The two confessions are like bookends surrounding and supporting the Liturgy of the Word, which leads one to deduce that there is some inherent relationship between them.
The Confession of Sin is the major part of the preparation for hearing the Word. Without confession, we would be inclined to approach the proclamation of the Word with our ears plugged up. The Reformers understood that public confession deflated spiritual cockiness and put worshippers in touch with their spiritual need. Facing up to the truth of sin within us, we desire healing for what is broken in our lives, reconciliation with God and those around us, and the new life that is offered in the Word who is Jesus Christ.
Following the proclamation of the Word in Scripture and sermon, the people stand and speak the Confession of Faith. This confession, however, travels under a variety of aliases. The Book of Common Worship (1993) refers to it as “Affirmation of Faith.” The rubrics, however, include a number of alternate terms:
Creed – specifically referring to the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds;
Affirmation – drawn from scripture;
Confession – as in Book of Confessions;
Declaration – excerpted from “A Declaration of Faith”;
Profession – by one being baptized;
Reaffirmation – when the congregation reaffirms the baptismal covenant.
Essentially they all mean the same thing applied in different settings. I choose to stay with the term Confession of Faith as a way of keeping it linked to Confession of Sin.
The Confession of Faith is really the flip side of the Confession of Sin. In confessing sin, we acknowledge not just our sins, those things we’ve done wrong, but our Sin, that is the brokenness of our relationship with God. God’s forgiveness is not completed in the Declaration of Forgiveness after the Prayer of Confession. It is only when we hear the Word and then believe our God that we are reconciled. Then we accept the healing of the breach by stating our belief and trust in God by standing to affirm, confess, declare, profess, or reaffirm our faith, or say a creed (credo=I believe).
The Confession of Faith and the Confession of Sin make up a matched set. They belong together in a service. Leave one out, and the omission leaves a huge theological gap in the people’s worship.
I’ve been in churches where there is no Confession of Sin, by any name. I always wonder why. Is it because the people (or pastors) recognize no need for reconciliation with God because that’s a given? I heard it directly from the mouth of a fundamentalist Christian expressed this way, “When you’re saved, you are forgiven for all your sins in advance.” No kidding. That’s not only lacking humility, it’s downright scary.
Leaving out the Confession of Faith may not be as scary, but it’s just as troublesome. When I started in ministry, the church I served had no Confession of Faith under any name or in any form. The resistance I encountered when introducing such an outrageous innovation could be described as hostile indifference. It took a process of close to two years to have anything akin to a Confession of Faith. (In the interests of full disclosure, they weren’t keen on the Confession of Sin either.) Why did they resist? Maybe they didn’t like having to state belief in someone else’s words, or so some told me. I think it went deeper than that.
The lack of a Confession of Faith results in a lack of commitment. Public declaration of what we believe, and Who we believe, is a standard to which we hold ourselves accountable. Just as confessing sin is a way in worship to acknowledge and reject sinfulness, confessing faith is a liturgical way of making a personal commitment to God.
Confessing faith during worship is also a way that we align ourselves with the church throughout history. The words may not be ones we would chose, but when we use historical affirmations like the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds we place ourselves in the tradition of the people of God. Similarly using portions of the faith statements from the Book of Confessions or other historical documents link us with believers in other times and places. In the end, a Confession of Faith is never a personal statement, but a proclamation of the church in which you and I join.
Do you use both a Confession of Sin and Confession of Faith in your congregation’s worship? What do you call them? If you omit one or both, what is your rationale?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
The Colors of Worship
In the last few decades, the Protestant communions have gotten used to the pattern of the Christian Year: It starts with Advent as a four-Sunday prelude to a twelve-day Christmas, capped off with a single-day celebration of Epiphany. There follows a period of indefinite length of no particular seasonal designation. Then Lent appears as a forty-day prelude to Easter which runs for fifty days until the single Day of Pentecost. More Sundays not belonging to any season follow until the next Advent.
It’s a tidy pattern built around two major seasons (Christmas and Easter), each preceded by a time of preparation (Advent and Lent), and each concluded by a single day celebration (Epiphany and Pentecost). The other Sundays fall into two segments which are called “ordinary time.”*
Now all of these seasons and days, and some other days besides, have been assigned particular colors. Purple is the penitential color for Advent and Lent, and further signifies royalty referring to the rule of Christ. White points to the purity of Christ and is used for Christmas, Epiphany and Easter. Red is reserved for Pentecost but may also appear on Good Friday representing the blood of Christ, as does black for mourning, or no color at all with the worship space stripped of all decorations. Blue is associated with the Virgin Mary and is sometimes used at Christmas. Gold, another sign of royalty, sometimes appears at Christmas, Epiphany and Easter. Ordinary time is colored green, the pervasive color in the natural world, thereby signifying growth.
At the front of the church I regularly attend is a set of colored glass panels. They are easily removed and can be exchanged with panes of different colors representing the seasons and special days of the Christian Year. When this happens along with change of the cloths on pulpit and table to correspond with the calendar colors, the effect is that the “look” of the worship space is significantly transformed.
I’ve begun to notice that the change of colors with the Christian Year seasons may be more powerful than just swapping out simple symbols. Symbols, as we know, can have considerable impact and influence in worship, yet they are obvious and direct. When the “look” of the room is changed significantly, the impact is more indirect. The colors, in and of themselves, can effect the mood of the worshippers.
We are told by interior decorators, artists, psychologists and others that various colors influence attitudes. For example: Purple, depending on how the red and blue are balanced, can cause uneasiness. Red evokes strong emotions and generates excitement. White reflects light and creates a sense of openness and spaciousness. Green is a calming refreshing color. And so forth.
When a worship space is transformed by the change in color to correspond with the season or special day in the Christian Year, the transformation may well educe subconscious emotional responses from people in the pews. So it would appear.
Being absolutely no expert in color or its use in this way, I’m wondering if others have a sense of the power of color in worship. Do the seasons and special days of the Church year bring substantial changes to the décor of your worship space? Are you aware of any studies in the impact of liturgical colors on the mood or attitude of worshippers?
_____________
*Some folks object to the use of “ordinary time,” because it seems to somehow denigrate those Sundays, all of which are special. So they attach them to the previous special day, and refer to them as “the Sundays after Epiphany” or “the Season of Pentecost.” This not only deflates the power of the special days, it blurs the emphases of individual Sundays in ordinary time.
It’s a tidy pattern built around two major seasons (Christmas and Easter), each preceded by a time of preparation (Advent and Lent), and each concluded by a single day celebration (Epiphany and Pentecost). The other Sundays fall into two segments which are called “ordinary time.”*
Now all of these seasons and days, and some other days besides, have been assigned particular colors. Purple is the penitential color for Advent and Lent, and further signifies royalty referring to the rule of Christ. White points to the purity of Christ and is used for Christmas, Epiphany and Easter. Red is reserved for Pentecost but may also appear on Good Friday representing the blood of Christ, as does black for mourning, or no color at all with the worship space stripped of all decorations. Blue is associated with the Virgin Mary and is sometimes used at Christmas. Gold, another sign of royalty, sometimes appears at Christmas, Epiphany and Easter. Ordinary time is colored green, the pervasive color in the natural world, thereby signifying growth.
At the front of the church I regularly attend is a set of colored glass panels. They are easily removed and can be exchanged with panes of different colors representing the seasons and special days of the Christian Year. When this happens along with change of the cloths on pulpit and table to correspond with the calendar colors, the effect is that the “look” of the worship space is significantly transformed.
I’ve begun to notice that the change of colors with the Christian Year seasons may be more powerful than just swapping out simple symbols. Symbols, as we know, can have considerable impact and influence in worship, yet they are obvious and direct. When the “look” of the room is changed significantly, the impact is more indirect. The colors, in and of themselves, can effect the mood of the worshippers.
We are told by interior decorators, artists, psychologists and others that various colors influence attitudes. For example: Purple, depending on how the red and blue are balanced, can cause uneasiness. Red evokes strong emotions and generates excitement. White reflects light and creates a sense of openness and spaciousness. Green is a calming refreshing color. And so forth.
When a worship space is transformed by the change in color to correspond with the season or special day in the Christian Year, the transformation may well educe subconscious emotional responses from people in the pews. So it would appear.
Being absolutely no expert in color or its use in this way, I’m wondering if others have a sense of the power of color in worship. Do the seasons and special days of the Church year bring substantial changes to the décor of your worship space? Are you aware of any studies in the impact of liturgical colors on the mood or attitude of worshippers?
_____________
*Some folks object to the use of “ordinary time,” because it seems to somehow denigrate those Sundays, all of which are special. So they attach them to the previous special day, and refer to them as “the Sundays after Epiphany” or “the Season of Pentecost.” This not only deflates the power of the special days, it blurs the emphases of individual Sundays in ordinary time.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Table Etiquette
Not long ago I was filling in at a nearby Presbyterian church, and in addition to preaching I was to preside at the Lord’s Supper. That’s not always the case, of course, since most Presbyterian churches observe the Sacrament occasionally rather than as part-and-parcel of Sunday worship. So I was delighted to look forward to a complete Lord’s Day worship service.
As I discussed the logistics with the lay leader, I discovered that the sequence of serving was different from what I was used to. I was a guest, however, so I followed their plan which was according to the rubrics in the Book of Common Worship (1993): The minister and those assisting receive Communion, and then serve the bread and the cup to the people.
This was consistent with the directions in the Book of Common Worship (1946): Then the Minister, who is himself to communicate, is to give the Bread to the Elders to be distributed. For the first couple of decades of my ministry, this was the pattern I followed, clergy eating and drinking first, then serving elders, who in turn served the people.
Yet I began to have problems with this way of serving Communion. Coming right after the visual presentation of “Holy things for holy people” and “The gifts of God for the people of God,” it struck me as strange for ministers to eat and drink first. If it is for the people, why start with the clergy? This sequence, ranking the people last, leaves itself open to interpretation of clericalism and elitism.
At some point, without fanfare, I moved to what felt more natural to me: the reverse of the sequence suggested in the BCW-suggested sequence: People should be served first, then the ones doing the serving, and lastly, the clergy. It just seemed “right” to me, theologically and otherwise, and still does.*
Minister(s) served by an assistant at the last is an appropriate visual statement regarding the role of the presider as a servant of the servant Lord. It makes for good theology and good liturgy to stress this servant role, lest someone think the presider somehow personally embodies the presence of the risen Lord.
This sequence (people-assistants-minister) seems more consistent with the actions of Jesus himself as recorded in Scripture and preserved in the “four-fold action”: Jesus 1) took bread; 2) gave thanks; 3) broke it; and 4) distributed it, saying particular words. Jesus handled the cup in similar fashion, 1) taking it; 2) giving thanks; and 3) gaving it to his disciples. There is no hint that he ate or drank before those he served.
Finally, there is a connection between the Lord’s Supper and all the meals we have in that every meal becomes Eucharistic based on the model of the Lord’s Supper. Our kitchen table is linked to the Lord’s Table—in sharing food anywhere we give thanks to God for grace abundant in Jesus Christ. (We need to learn how to do that better in every location where we “break bread.”) It only seems logical, then, that table etiquette in one place should be consistent with that in the other--the minister-assistants-people sequence at the Lord’s Table would seem rude and boorish if practiced at any other table. I’m not suggesting that this is the only reason to reverse that order so that the “host” eats last. Nevertheless, the minister-assistants-people sequence represents a disconnect from common polite practice, and therefore serves confusion along with the Holy Meal.
How is Communion served in your church? Are the people served in the pews or do they come forward? Does that make any difference in the sequence of serving?
_______________
*After I retired, I took myself to worship most often with a neighbor Lutheran congregation who celebrates Communion every week—something I could not find in a nearby Presbyterian church. The time came that I was asked to fill in for the vacationing pastor, preaching and presiding at the table. There, people were served first, deacons and other assistants next, and clergy last. This they did in spite of the rubrics in the Lutheran Book of Worship which were much the same as ours. The new Evangelical Lutheran Worship (2006), however, allows either sequence.
As I discussed the logistics with the lay leader, I discovered that the sequence of serving was different from what I was used to. I was a guest, however, so I followed their plan which was according to the rubrics in the Book of Common Worship (1993): The minister and those assisting receive Communion, and then serve the bread and the cup to the people.
This was consistent with the directions in the Book of Common Worship (1946): Then the Minister, who is himself to communicate, is to give the Bread to the Elders to be distributed. For the first couple of decades of my ministry, this was the pattern I followed, clergy eating and drinking first, then serving elders, who in turn served the people.
Yet I began to have problems with this way of serving Communion. Coming right after the visual presentation of “Holy things for holy people” and “The gifts of God for the people of God,” it struck me as strange for ministers to eat and drink first. If it is for the people, why start with the clergy? This sequence, ranking the people last, leaves itself open to interpretation of clericalism and elitism.
At some point, without fanfare, I moved to what felt more natural to me: the reverse of the sequence suggested in the BCW-suggested sequence: People should be served first, then the ones doing the serving, and lastly, the clergy. It just seemed “right” to me, theologically and otherwise, and still does.*
Minister(s) served by an assistant at the last is an appropriate visual statement regarding the role of the presider as a servant of the servant Lord. It makes for good theology and good liturgy to stress this servant role, lest someone think the presider somehow personally embodies the presence of the risen Lord.
This sequence (people-assistants-minister) seems more consistent with the actions of Jesus himself as recorded in Scripture and preserved in the “four-fold action”: Jesus 1) took bread; 2) gave thanks; 3) broke it; and 4) distributed it, saying particular words. Jesus handled the cup in similar fashion, 1) taking it; 2) giving thanks; and 3) gaving it to his disciples. There is no hint that he ate or drank before those he served.
Finally, there is a connection between the Lord’s Supper and all the meals we have in that every meal becomes Eucharistic based on the model of the Lord’s Supper. Our kitchen table is linked to the Lord’s Table—in sharing food anywhere we give thanks to God for grace abundant in Jesus Christ. (We need to learn how to do that better in every location where we “break bread.”) It only seems logical, then, that table etiquette in one place should be consistent with that in the other--the minister-assistants-people sequence at the Lord’s Table would seem rude and boorish if practiced at any other table. I’m not suggesting that this is the only reason to reverse that order so that the “host” eats last. Nevertheless, the minister-assistants-people sequence represents a disconnect from common polite practice, and therefore serves confusion along with the Holy Meal.
How is Communion served in your church? Are the people served in the pews or do they come forward? Does that make any difference in the sequence of serving?
_______________
*After I retired, I took myself to worship most often with a neighbor Lutheran congregation who celebrates Communion every week—something I could not find in a nearby Presbyterian church. The time came that I was asked to fill in for the vacationing pastor, preaching and presiding at the table. There, people were served first, deacons and other assistants next, and clergy last. This they did in spite of the rubrics in the Lutheran Book of Worship which were much the same as ours. The new Evangelical Lutheran Worship (2006), however, allows either sequence.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Impressive/Expressive
The overriding principle of Christian liturgy, as far as I’m concerned, is that it is the people’s work. Some of the people have particular responsibilities for that liturgy, such as clergy and musicians and lay leaders and deacons and so forth. But they are worshippers too.
Therefore, those who are responsible in some form for leading or enabling the worship of the people have to do two things at once. First, they themselves have to worship. Second, they have to prepare and present a liturgy in a thoughtful and prayerful manner that will spark worship in everyone. In other words, worship leaders have to give and receive at the same time.
Another way to think of this is to see the experience of worship for the people in the pews as being both impressive and expressive.
Take “expressive” first. Good liturgy helps the people in the pews to express their faith, to sing and shout, if that’s what’s called for, or be still and quiet to listen to the Spirit’s whispers. Good hymns, for example, are singable and both physically and emotionally engaging. Hymns are either prayers or affirmations of faith—they give voice and song to inner convictions and longings.
The whole liturgy has the potential to be engaging in this way. Written or spoken prayers provide the language for the people’s expression of deep needs and hopes. Action, including posture and gesture, allows physical expression by the people of their joy, or love, or sorrow.
So the planners and leaders of liturgy need to be careful and conscious of providing the right equipment so the people can do their work of worship. To do this, planners and leaders must think first as worshippers themselves.
I’ve discovered, for example, that one of the secrets of preaching that connects with the pew-sitters is that I preach to myself first. Knowing my own humanness is a good starting point. If I can honestly listen to the text speaking to my life, I can usually wrestle with it to produce a sermon that stands a chance of hitting someone else’s target. In this way, the sermon helps the people work through their faith, and they are actively involved in listening and processing the scriptural message.
On the other hand, planners and leaders must recognize that worship is “impressive.”
Now, before we go any further, let’s get it straight that worship planners and leaders are not there to “impress” people in the normal use of that word. Preachers preach, not perform. Choirs sing to praise God, not for applause. Prayers are not to be clever or cute, but simple and profound. The people are the performers. Period.
Worship is “impressive,” however, in the sense that the music and words and actions of the liturgy, as well as the setting with its decors, leave an imprint on the worshipper. Everything that happens in worship is filed in the brains of the people. They remember and take with them what they experience. It’s all with them to be used perhaps another day.
Hymns, for example, are a repository of theology. It’s been said that most of us born before 1960 learned our theology from the hymns we sang in church as we were growing up. That’s probably still true, although fewer children are learning the great hymns of the church. The use of “praise songs” presents a problem here, because so many are theologically shallow. The upshot is that the hymnody of the church is not being duly appropriated by some church leaders to “impress” worshippers with sound understanding of their faith.
We also have to acknowledge that some hymns do promote ghastly theology: a me-first kind of give-me-what-I-want attitude devoid of self-giving love; they are also highly individualistic and ignore the community that God has assembled. Such hymns do not leave imprints, they leave dents, and the damage is often difficult to repair.
What I’ve said about hymns, I think is equally true of the prayers written and spoken. It takes considerable effort to produce a prayer that not only enables worshippers to express themselves, but leaves a message in them, the seed of a prayer they might nurture to blossom another time.
Where do you see liturgy as “expressive” and “impressive”? What are some ways you would suggest to improve the worship where you are?
Therefore, those who are responsible in some form for leading or enabling the worship of the people have to do two things at once. First, they themselves have to worship. Second, they have to prepare and present a liturgy in a thoughtful and prayerful manner that will spark worship in everyone. In other words, worship leaders have to give and receive at the same time.
Another way to think of this is to see the experience of worship for the people in the pews as being both impressive and expressive.
Take “expressive” first. Good liturgy helps the people in the pews to express their faith, to sing and shout, if that’s what’s called for, or be still and quiet to listen to the Spirit’s whispers. Good hymns, for example, are singable and both physically and emotionally engaging. Hymns are either prayers or affirmations of faith—they give voice and song to inner convictions and longings.
The whole liturgy has the potential to be engaging in this way. Written or spoken prayers provide the language for the people’s expression of deep needs and hopes. Action, including posture and gesture, allows physical expression by the people of their joy, or love, or sorrow.
So the planners and leaders of liturgy need to be careful and conscious of providing the right equipment so the people can do their work of worship. To do this, planners and leaders must think first as worshippers themselves.
I’ve discovered, for example, that one of the secrets of preaching that connects with the pew-sitters is that I preach to myself first. Knowing my own humanness is a good starting point. If I can honestly listen to the text speaking to my life, I can usually wrestle with it to produce a sermon that stands a chance of hitting someone else’s target. In this way, the sermon helps the people work through their faith, and they are actively involved in listening and processing the scriptural message.
On the other hand, planners and leaders must recognize that worship is “impressive.”
Now, before we go any further, let’s get it straight that worship planners and leaders are not there to “impress” people in the normal use of that word. Preachers preach, not perform. Choirs sing to praise God, not for applause. Prayers are not to be clever or cute, but simple and profound. The people are the performers. Period.
Worship is “impressive,” however, in the sense that the music and words and actions of the liturgy, as well as the setting with its decors, leave an imprint on the worshipper. Everything that happens in worship is filed in the brains of the people. They remember and take with them what they experience. It’s all with them to be used perhaps another day.
Hymns, for example, are a repository of theology. It’s been said that most of us born before 1960 learned our theology from the hymns we sang in church as we were growing up. That’s probably still true, although fewer children are learning the great hymns of the church. The use of “praise songs” presents a problem here, because so many are theologically shallow. The upshot is that the hymnody of the church is not being duly appropriated by some church leaders to “impress” worshippers with sound understanding of their faith.
We also have to acknowledge that some hymns do promote ghastly theology: a me-first kind of give-me-what-I-want attitude devoid of self-giving love; they are also highly individualistic and ignore the community that God has assembled. Such hymns do not leave imprints, they leave dents, and the damage is often difficult to repair.
What I’ve said about hymns, I think is equally true of the prayers written and spoken. It takes considerable effort to produce a prayer that not only enables worshippers to express themselves, but leaves a message in them, the seed of a prayer they might nurture to blossom another time.
Where do you see liturgy as “expressive” and “impressive”? What are some ways you would suggest to improve the worship where you are?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Peace!
“The Greeting of Peace,” sometimes called “the Passing the Peace,” or “the Kiss of Peace,” or simply, “the Peace,” is playing to mixed reviews in some Protestant churches. At least, so I hear. That’s probably because the rite contains a mixture of meanings.
For many Reformed and similarly inclined folks, this is a new idea, so that they don’t know quite what to do with it. In the midst of worship we should break ranks and wander the aisles to press the flesh of our co-worshippers? Before and after the service, such warmth of fellowship is completely understood. It is unusual for us, however, that in the middle of worshipping God we should stop to greet one another in any fashion whatsoever.
Too often, the Greeting of Peace is merely a greeting, a time during which we say hi to our friends and exchange quick messages like, “New dress? Love it!” or “Come over for the game!” or “Dinner tomorrow?” or “Can’t make the meeting tonight—sorry!” and so forth.
There is the problem: we really do not stop worshipping God to act out the Greeting of Peace. At least we should not stop. The Greeting itself is an act of worshipping God. It is the celebration of God’s peace given to each one of us in Jesus Christ. Therefore, I pass along the blessing of peace bestowed on me by the crucified and risen Lord in this action.
So we should never treat the greeting casually, without eye contact, with limp handshakes. If we know the person’s name, we should address her or him by it. If appropriate, a hug or a kiss seals the greeting’s exchange. If we offer the greeting first, we should have the grace to wait for the other’s response. Otherwise the Greeting of Peace will seem a trivial and superficial dialogue interrupting and pre-empting praise to the Almighty.
The Greeting is often placed after the Prayer of Confession and Pardon. In exchanging the Greeting of Peace, the Peace we have received in Jesus Christ, we take the next logical step. As we are forgiven, so we forgive. The Greeting of Peace is a sign of reconciliation, God’s reconciliation to us in Jesus Christ, ours to one another in the church and to everyone beyond. It brings any who are separate together. It offers Peace to heal the brokenness, in our souls, in our relationships.
Some scholars have suggested that the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount about achieving reconciliation before bringing your gift to the altar (Matthew 5:23-24) reflects a liturgical act already being formalized. Therefore, if the Greeting is not exchanged immediately after the Prayer of Confession, it should take place before the Lord’s Supper.
So the Greeting of Peace is not just for friends, although often we need Peace between ourselves and our friends to heal faded or broken relationships. It is also for us to extend to strangers, and is therefore an acting out of the virtue of Christian hospitality. It is Christ welcoming the stranger, the sinner, by means of our Greeting of Peace offered to them. We become Christ’s agents in these moments, doing his will, blessing others with his Peace. It is an act sure to overwhelm with humility and wonder anyone offering Christ’s peace in this way.
Yet it is precisely this exchange of Peace of Christ among people that overrides all other relationships that they might have with each other. Relationships between or among family, friends, sinners, strangers, or any others are not what bring us together in the church. In fact they really don’t matter, in spite of the fact that we often make them matter. It is the Peace of God that brings us together as the church and binds us as people of God, as followers of Jesus. That’s all that really matters—it is the glue that makes us stick together.
The Greeting of Peace, then, reforms, reassembles and unifies the gathering of diverse worshippers as God’s own people. The Peace we exchange is not ours to give, except as we have received it from Christ.
You’d think we’d know all this, since we are Bible-believing people. A Greeting (or Kiss) of Peace was apparently referenced in the letters of Paul (Romans 16:16; 1 Corinthians 16:20; 2 Corinthians 13:12; and 1 Thessalonians 5:26) and Peter (1 Peter 5:14), testifying to some such practice among the followers of Jesus early in the life of the young church.
The Greeting of Peace is not to be demeaned by letting it be a superficial salute to an old pal, or a shallow welcome to a stranger. Rather it speaks from the heart of the Gospel. As Christ reconciles each of us to God, so we are, like it or not, to be reconciled to one another.
“The peace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.”
“And also with you.”
The question is, what can we do to shift our corporate awareness from the shallow understanding to the deep and profound meaning of the Greeting of Peace? Do you have the Greeting of Peace in your church’s service? How is it interpreted? Does the pastor ever preach about it?
For many Reformed and similarly inclined folks, this is a new idea, so that they don’t know quite what to do with it. In the midst of worship we should break ranks and wander the aisles to press the flesh of our co-worshippers? Before and after the service, such warmth of fellowship is completely understood. It is unusual for us, however, that in the middle of worshipping God we should stop to greet one another in any fashion whatsoever.
Too often, the Greeting of Peace is merely a greeting, a time during which we say hi to our friends and exchange quick messages like, “New dress? Love it!” or “Come over for the game!” or “Dinner tomorrow?” or “Can’t make the meeting tonight—sorry!” and so forth.
There is the problem: we really do not stop worshipping God to act out the Greeting of Peace. At least we should not stop. The Greeting itself is an act of worshipping God. It is the celebration of God’s peace given to each one of us in Jesus Christ. Therefore, I pass along the blessing of peace bestowed on me by the crucified and risen Lord in this action.
So we should never treat the greeting casually, without eye contact, with limp handshakes. If we know the person’s name, we should address her or him by it. If appropriate, a hug or a kiss seals the greeting’s exchange. If we offer the greeting first, we should have the grace to wait for the other’s response. Otherwise the Greeting of Peace will seem a trivial and superficial dialogue interrupting and pre-empting praise to the Almighty.
The Greeting is often placed after the Prayer of Confession and Pardon. In exchanging the Greeting of Peace, the Peace we have received in Jesus Christ, we take the next logical step. As we are forgiven, so we forgive. The Greeting of Peace is a sign of reconciliation, God’s reconciliation to us in Jesus Christ, ours to one another in the church and to everyone beyond. It brings any who are separate together. It offers Peace to heal the brokenness, in our souls, in our relationships.
Some scholars have suggested that the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount about achieving reconciliation before bringing your gift to the altar (Matthew 5:23-24) reflects a liturgical act already being formalized. Therefore, if the Greeting is not exchanged immediately after the Prayer of Confession, it should take place before the Lord’s Supper.
So the Greeting of Peace is not just for friends, although often we need Peace between ourselves and our friends to heal faded or broken relationships. It is also for us to extend to strangers, and is therefore an acting out of the virtue of Christian hospitality. It is Christ welcoming the stranger, the sinner, by means of our Greeting of Peace offered to them. We become Christ’s agents in these moments, doing his will, blessing others with his Peace. It is an act sure to overwhelm with humility and wonder anyone offering Christ’s peace in this way.
Yet it is precisely this exchange of Peace of Christ among people that overrides all other relationships that they might have with each other. Relationships between or among family, friends, sinners, strangers, or any others are not what bring us together in the church. In fact they really don’t matter, in spite of the fact that we often make them matter. It is the Peace of God that brings us together as the church and binds us as people of God, as followers of Jesus. That’s all that really matters—it is the glue that makes us stick together.
The Greeting of Peace, then, reforms, reassembles and unifies the gathering of diverse worshippers as God’s own people. The Peace we exchange is not ours to give, except as we have received it from Christ.
You’d think we’d know all this, since we are Bible-believing people. A Greeting (or Kiss) of Peace was apparently referenced in the letters of Paul (Romans 16:16; 1 Corinthians 16:20; 2 Corinthians 13:12; and 1 Thessalonians 5:26) and Peter (1 Peter 5:14), testifying to some such practice among the followers of Jesus early in the life of the young church.
The Greeting of Peace is not to be demeaned by letting it be a superficial salute to an old pal, or a shallow welcome to a stranger. Rather it speaks from the heart of the Gospel. As Christ reconciles each of us to God, so we are, like it or not, to be reconciled to one another.
“The peace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.”
“And also with you.”
The question is, what can we do to shift our corporate awareness from the shallow understanding to the deep and profound meaning of the Greeting of Peace? Do you have the Greeting of Peace in your church’s service? How is it interpreted? Does the pastor ever preach about it?
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Liturgical Orphans
A good friend and colleague of mine and I were commiserating, as we are sometimes wont to do, on the subject of how so many church members don’t know, or never knew, anything much about church history or the heritage that informs our worship.
He called the ailment a form of historical and liturgical amnesia afflicting the body of the church. We’ve plumb forgot what went before us. It was like we woke up one year and had to start over to figure out how we might worship God.
My image was similar. I pictured church members as thinking of themselves as liturgical orphans, living without any information about their past, where they came from, even who they are or might be. Impoverished creatures, these church members are, without the wherewithal to do their worship.
Okay, we’re overstating the case, perhaps, but the problem is a real one. Let’s face it, most people in the pews, and maybe some pastors too, for that matter, do what they do in worship with a modicum if not a minimum of background and theological information. Most worshippers have trouble expressing why we do what we do on Sunday mornings. If they ever knew, it seems that they forgot.
There is an increasing number of voices these days leaning heavily on the seminaries for their failure in training clergy to fulfill their responsibilities as “resident liturgical theologians” in parishes. In my day, I came out of seminary with minimal historical or theological understanding of Christian liturgy. I understand from those who know, that the situation has improved only slightly, if at all.
Sure enough, budding clergy are taught at length how to preach. The mysteries of biblical exegesis, writing and delivering sermons are explored and revealed so the clergy can develop through the years to be competent and maybe outstanding preachers.
What the seminaries forget, however, that preaching is not enough. In fact, if preaching is the major emphasis in the training of a minister, it misses the point that the sermon is to be proclaimed in the context of a larger liturgy. If the liturgy is not informed in its preparation, if the people don’t know what they are doing, if the rites are empty rote, then the sermon stands naked, unsupported, left to fend for itself solo.
Now it follows as night follows the day that if ministers are not adequately equipped with history and theology of Christian liturgy, they won’t have a chance of being able to prepare their congregations. The congregations in turn are deprived of heritage and tradition that gives foundation to their worship experience.
I wonder if this is a reason that so many people aren’t in the pews on Sunday. If worship doesn’t make sense, if it has no traditions behind it, perhaps it’s just boring and folks don’t bother. Would people find it more interesting and even exciting if they realized that there is not only wisdom but genius in the rites and rituals, in the words and music of worship?
Now, we can wait around to see if the seminaries will catch on and do something to correct this inadequacy. Or, ministers and elders and musicians can rise up and deal with the situation ourselves. How? Here are a few suggestions:
Get hold of a copy of Introduction to Christian Worship by James White (Abingdon Press, 1990). Get the elders on your worship committee and your musicians together with the pastor once a week to discuss it chapter by chapter. (If your church can afford it, buy everyone a book--or better yet, have everyone buy their own.) When you've finished that book, start another on the same subject.
Ask your musicians to teach hymnody to the congregation. Maybe they could tell the background or story of one hymn before the service each week and call attention to the theological content. Or have a congregational hymn-sing (with a dinner) to sing some of the hymnal’s “golden oldies.” There’s history there, plus memorable theology.
You might use time at each session meeting for education about the session’s responsibility regarding worship. Some may be surprised that they have responsibility—doesn’t the minister just take care of all that?
From time to time expound briefly in the service about specific rites, their history, their meaning—or at least put notes in the bulletin.
Most of all, clergy and musicians should take professional pride to educate themselves, to learn about their craft as leaders of worship, as stewards of the mysteries of faith.
What other ways can we educate congregations about worship?
He called the ailment a form of historical and liturgical amnesia afflicting the body of the church. We’ve plumb forgot what went before us. It was like we woke up one year and had to start over to figure out how we might worship God.
My image was similar. I pictured church members as thinking of themselves as liturgical orphans, living without any information about their past, where they came from, even who they are or might be. Impoverished creatures, these church members are, without the wherewithal to do their worship.
Okay, we’re overstating the case, perhaps, but the problem is a real one. Let’s face it, most people in the pews, and maybe some pastors too, for that matter, do what they do in worship with a modicum if not a minimum of background and theological information. Most worshippers have trouble expressing why we do what we do on Sunday mornings. If they ever knew, it seems that they forgot.
There is an increasing number of voices these days leaning heavily on the seminaries for their failure in training clergy to fulfill their responsibilities as “resident liturgical theologians” in parishes. In my day, I came out of seminary with minimal historical or theological understanding of Christian liturgy. I understand from those who know, that the situation has improved only slightly, if at all.
Sure enough, budding clergy are taught at length how to preach. The mysteries of biblical exegesis, writing and delivering sermons are explored and revealed so the clergy can develop through the years to be competent and maybe outstanding preachers.
What the seminaries forget, however, that preaching is not enough. In fact, if preaching is the major emphasis in the training of a minister, it misses the point that the sermon is to be proclaimed in the context of a larger liturgy. If the liturgy is not informed in its preparation, if the people don’t know what they are doing, if the rites are empty rote, then the sermon stands naked, unsupported, left to fend for itself solo.
Now it follows as night follows the day that if ministers are not adequately equipped with history and theology of Christian liturgy, they won’t have a chance of being able to prepare their congregations. The congregations in turn are deprived of heritage and tradition that gives foundation to their worship experience.
I wonder if this is a reason that so many people aren’t in the pews on Sunday. If worship doesn’t make sense, if it has no traditions behind it, perhaps it’s just boring and folks don’t bother. Would people find it more interesting and even exciting if they realized that there is not only wisdom but genius in the rites and rituals, in the words and music of worship?
Now, we can wait around to see if the seminaries will catch on and do something to correct this inadequacy. Or, ministers and elders and musicians can rise up and deal with the situation ourselves. How? Here are a few suggestions:
Get hold of a copy of Introduction to Christian Worship by James White (Abingdon Press, 1990). Get the elders on your worship committee and your musicians together with the pastor once a week to discuss it chapter by chapter. (If your church can afford it, buy everyone a book--or better yet, have everyone buy their own.) When you've finished that book, start another on the same subject.
Ask your musicians to teach hymnody to the congregation. Maybe they could tell the background or story of one hymn before the service each week and call attention to the theological content. Or have a congregational hymn-sing (with a dinner) to sing some of the hymnal’s “golden oldies.” There’s history there, plus memorable theology.
You might use time at each session meeting for education about the session’s responsibility regarding worship. Some may be surprised that they have responsibility—doesn’t the minister just take care of all that?
From time to time expound briefly in the service about specific rites, their history, their meaning—or at least put notes in the bulletin.
Most of all, clergy and musicians should take professional pride to educate themselves, to learn about their craft as leaders of worship, as stewards of the mysteries of faith.
What other ways can we educate congregations about worship?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter/Paschal Vigil
Easter Vigils are hard to come by in my neck of the woods. So it came to pass some years ago that my wife and I ventured forth to Boston, to The Trinity Church on Copley Square. This is a church we had visited many times and appreciated for its strong liturgy, and where we understood they kept the Paschal Vigil. There we immersed ourselves in all three days known as the Triduum and it’s become an annual pilgrimage ever since. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter Day services make for a rich and refreshing weekend.
I’m not going to attempt any real play-by-play account of the Vigil last evening—you really had to be there. But I did come away with some insights and fresh approaches that I think are worth passing along.
When we entered the church, we were handed a bulletin and a candle—a full ten-inch candle. From the large Easter Candle, ignited from the new fire in the gallery, our individual ones were lighted until the room was aglow. Being lighted near the beginning of the service, our candles would have to last, the way this service was designed, almost a full hour. For most of us in the pews they did. I was impressed by staff’s thoughtfulness to provide candles of sufficient length.
Following the Exsultet, a prayer calling the hosts of heaven, the creatures of the earth, and the whole church to rejoice in Christ’s victory, the Vigil continued with stories of God’s salvation in the past: A Story of Creation, A Story of Noah and the Flood, A Story of the Crossing of the Red Sea, and a Story of the River of Life.
Each of these stories cited biblical texts on which they were based, but each story was told in a different way. The Creation was a paraphrase re-telling of Genesis 1:1-2:4a. Noah and the Flood was presented in two stories, one based on cited Genesis passages, and the other a tale translated from the Arabic. The story based on Exodus 14 and 15 was told in the song, “Go Down, Moses,” a soloist proclaiming the verses, the congregation joining in the refrain. The Story of the River of Life was a close reading of Ezekiel 47: 1-12.
It was a different approach, one which I wasn’t sure I’d appreciate when I realized we were not rehearsing the scriptural texts. As it turned out, they were all very engaging. The biblical versions were familiar enough that they provided the context for the stories we heard.
I particularly had reservations about “Go Down, Moses,” but the power of the soloist’s proclamation in singing the verses, and the congregation’s eager response in the refrain, made it exciting and memorable.
I always pay attention to rubrics, those little printed instructions about the liturgy that customarily are printed in red (which is what “rubric” means). Here are a few of particular significance in this service:
“Children: Children are invited to worship with their families and are encouraged to arrange themselves so that they can easily see the actions of liturgy.” I really like how it is addressed to children personally, with the knowledge that the parents are the ones who will read it and see to it that children can see and take part in the worship.
“The drumming at the Proclamation of Easter comes from the traditions of the Ewe (Eh-vay) people of Ghana, West Africa. It is performed by a group of Trinity parishioners and friends, ages 8 and up, who have participated since February 2 in weekly drumming sessions led by Jeremy Cohen, a professional music educator and leader of musical study tours in Ghana.” It was an explosive, thunderous and vibrant announcement of the Resurrection.
“The Easter acclamation is said three times, each time louder, accompanied by ceremonial drum music of Ghana. The people ring their bells, louder and louder. For the rest of the liturgy, the People ring their bells whenever ‘Alleluia’ is sung or said.” Members of the congregation came armed with bells of all shapes and sizes and sounds—a wondrous cacophony of tones accompanying the single lyric, Alleluia!
And finally, as we approached Holy Communion, we read: “All People, regardless of faith tradition, if any, are welcome to receive Communion at Trinity Church.” This invitation was reinforced by the personal encouragement of the Rector who stressed that the table was not the church’s, but the Lord’s Table.
There is, of course, much more to tell, so stay tuned. For now you can be sure it was worth the trip.
If you attended Easter Vigil somewhere, or held Vigil in your own church, how did you review the history of God’s saving deeds with our ancestors? Was there a baptism? What was especially meaningful?
I’m not going to attempt any real play-by-play account of the Vigil last evening—you really had to be there. But I did come away with some insights and fresh approaches that I think are worth passing along.
When we entered the church, we were handed a bulletin and a candle—a full ten-inch candle. From the large Easter Candle, ignited from the new fire in the gallery, our individual ones were lighted until the room was aglow. Being lighted near the beginning of the service, our candles would have to last, the way this service was designed, almost a full hour. For most of us in the pews they did. I was impressed by staff’s thoughtfulness to provide candles of sufficient length.
Following the Exsultet, a prayer calling the hosts of heaven, the creatures of the earth, and the whole church to rejoice in Christ’s victory, the Vigil continued with stories of God’s salvation in the past: A Story of Creation, A Story of Noah and the Flood, A Story of the Crossing of the Red Sea, and a Story of the River of Life.
Each of these stories cited biblical texts on which they were based, but each story was told in a different way. The Creation was a paraphrase re-telling of Genesis 1:1-2:4a. Noah and the Flood was presented in two stories, one based on cited Genesis passages, and the other a tale translated from the Arabic. The story based on Exodus 14 and 15 was told in the song, “Go Down, Moses,” a soloist proclaiming the verses, the congregation joining in the refrain. The Story of the River of Life was a close reading of Ezekiel 47: 1-12.
It was a different approach, one which I wasn’t sure I’d appreciate when I realized we were not rehearsing the scriptural texts. As it turned out, they were all very engaging. The biblical versions were familiar enough that they provided the context for the stories we heard.
I particularly had reservations about “Go Down, Moses,” but the power of the soloist’s proclamation in singing the verses, and the congregation’s eager response in the refrain, made it exciting and memorable.
I always pay attention to rubrics, those little printed instructions about the liturgy that customarily are printed in red (which is what “rubric” means). Here are a few of particular significance in this service:
“Children: Children are invited to worship with their families and are encouraged to arrange themselves so that they can easily see the actions of liturgy.” I really like how it is addressed to children personally, with the knowledge that the parents are the ones who will read it and see to it that children can see and take part in the worship.
“The drumming at the Proclamation of Easter comes from the traditions of the Ewe (Eh-vay) people of Ghana, West Africa. It is performed by a group of Trinity parishioners and friends, ages 8 and up, who have participated since February 2 in weekly drumming sessions led by Jeremy Cohen, a professional music educator and leader of musical study tours in Ghana.” It was an explosive, thunderous and vibrant announcement of the Resurrection.
“The Easter acclamation is said three times, each time louder, accompanied by ceremonial drum music of Ghana. The people ring their bells, louder and louder. For the rest of the liturgy, the People ring their bells whenever ‘Alleluia’ is sung or said.” Members of the congregation came armed with bells of all shapes and sizes and sounds—a wondrous cacophony of tones accompanying the single lyric, Alleluia!
And finally, as we approached Holy Communion, we read: “All People, regardless of faith tradition, if any, are welcome to receive Communion at Trinity Church.” This invitation was reinforced by the personal encouragement of the Rector who stressed that the table was not the church’s, but the Lord’s Table.
There is, of course, much more to tell, so stay tuned. For now you can be sure it was worth the trip.
If you attended Easter Vigil somewhere, or held Vigil in your own church, how did you review the history of God’s saving deeds with our ancestors? Was there a baptism? What was especially meaningful?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
