Although the ancient axiom appears in several different forms, lex orandi, lex credendi is the prevailing short-hand version. It means something like, “the law (or rule) of prayer is the law (or rule) of belief.” My simpler version is, “Our worship shapes our faith.”
There are those who say the phrase is so ambiguous that you could argue it just as well from the other end: “What we believe shapes our worship.” One would hope there is truth in that as well. Nevertheless, seeing worship as the starting-point for faith formation makes good sense to me.
Historically, the followers of the Risen Christ relied on common worship for some three centuries before a creed was ever crafted. The arena of liturgy was where they met the Risen Christ. Out of that experience they shaped their belief system. So it is, and must be for us.
Also, while theological instruction in educational institutions and church schools provides “faith formation,” it does only for a small minority. It is when gathered for worship that a much larger proportion of the people of God are in touch with the substance of faith.
Furthermore, it is my own experience that my early years spent at the side of my parents in congregational worship, listening to and speaking the prayers, having the words of the hymns pointed out before I could read them, watching the faith of my parents acted out, experiencing Christ present—all of this and more was significant in the development of my own faith.
So lex orandi, lex credendi has important implications for the responsibilities ministers and lay leaders have for the worship of the church. The big questions we need to be asking are, “What is ‘taught’ to the congregation by what we say, what we do, and how we say and do it? And how do we enable them to meet Christ?”
Once a solid member of the congregation was talking to me about the worship service and he made reference to “that thing you do at the Communion Table.” “What thing?” I asked. When he explained further I realized he was talking about the Eucharistic Prayer. What did I ever do to let anyone think that it was just a thing? How could I do it differently to include my friend as a pray-er?
Here are a few “things” to think about where we might be communicating something other than what we should:
Call to Worship – Is it really a summons to praise God, or a “howdy, folks?”
Confession – Does it help to open worshippers to God’s forgiveness? Does it speak of God’s grace or just judgment?
Scripture – Do you read from Old and New Testaments? Is it read well, or just gotten through? Does the manner of reading reflect the authority of Scripture?
Sermon – Is it prophetic? A corporate activity, or a solo? Comforting and challenging, or just entertaining?
Eucharist – Is it central to Sunday worship, or occasional? Is Christ recognized?
Charge and Benediction – Are people sent on a mission, or just to coffee hour?
Keep asking the questions, because how well we do things on Sunday morning will determine the strength of our faith.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
I'm Confessing....
A little book that has been on my shelf and in my hands many times the last fifty years is He Sent Leanness—A book of prayers for the natural man, by David Head (MacMillan Company, New York 1959). It is a book filled with wisdom, humor, irony and lots more. It must be out of print, but copies are available on line from various sellers.
One of the standard prayers of confession widely used is The General Prayer of Confession. (See The Book of Common Worship (1993) on pp.87-88.) In contrast, David Head (on pages 18-19) offers two somewhat sarcastic and greatly exaggerated versions that he says might be in the hearts, if not in the mouths, of “natural” men and women. Here they are for comparison with the well-known original:
I
“Benevolent and easy-going Father: we have occasionally been guilty of errors of judgement. We have lived under the deprivations of heredity and the disadvantages of environment. We have sometimes failed to act in accordance with common sense. We have done the best we could in the circumstances; And have been careful not to ignore the common standards of decency; And we are glad to think that we are fairly normal. Do thou, O Lord, deal lightly with our infrequent lapses. Be thy own sweet Self with those who admit they are not perfect; According to the unlimited tolerance which we have a right to expect from thee. And grant as an indulgent Parent that we may hereafter continue to live a harmless and happy life and keep our self-respect.”
II
“Almighty Judge: we have lived far from thy ways like wild goats. We have on all occasions rebelliously followed our own inclinations. We have deliberately and shamelessly broken thy holy laws. We have never done anything we ought to have done; And we are utterly depraved. We desperately miserable offenders can only expect thy harsh judgement. We live obsessed with the unrelieved knowledge of our guilt. The thought of Jesus Christ does nothing except increase the depth of our shame. We have no right to expect anything hereafter except the intolerable burden of our unrighteousness, and the hell of our eternal disgrace.”
David Head’s exaggerating, of course, to make his point. At the same time, he comes all too close to what some expect the prayer of confession to be. I know folks who’d scrap confession altogether since, as they put it, “I’m not that bad.” Then there are others who enjoy groveling and wallowing in their guilt. Maybe, if we’re honest, we all are like them from time to time.
How do you strike a balance in the prayer of confession so you move from awareness of sin to acceptance of forgiveness? Where do you find helpful models for prayers of confession?
One of the standard prayers of confession widely used is The General Prayer of Confession. (See The Book of Common Worship (1993) on pp.87-88.) In contrast, David Head (on pages 18-19) offers two somewhat sarcastic and greatly exaggerated versions that he says might be in the hearts, if not in the mouths, of “natural” men and women. Here they are for comparison with the well-known original:
I
“Benevolent and easy-going Father: we have occasionally been guilty of errors of judgement. We have lived under the deprivations of heredity and the disadvantages of environment. We have sometimes failed to act in accordance with common sense. We have done the best we could in the circumstances; And have been careful not to ignore the common standards of decency; And we are glad to think that we are fairly normal. Do thou, O Lord, deal lightly with our infrequent lapses. Be thy own sweet Self with those who admit they are not perfect; According to the unlimited tolerance which we have a right to expect from thee. And grant as an indulgent Parent that we may hereafter continue to live a harmless and happy life and keep our self-respect.”
II
“Almighty Judge: we have lived far from thy ways like wild goats. We have on all occasions rebelliously followed our own inclinations. We have deliberately and shamelessly broken thy holy laws. We have never done anything we ought to have done; And we are utterly depraved. We desperately miserable offenders can only expect thy harsh judgement. We live obsessed with the unrelieved knowledge of our guilt. The thought of Jesus Christ does nothing except increase the depth of our shame. We have no right to expect anything hereafter except the intolerable burden of our unrighteousness, and the hell of our eternal disgrace.”
David Head’s exaggerating, of course, to make his point. At the same time, he comes all too close to what some expect the prayer of confession to be. I know folks who’d scrap confession altogether since, as they put it, “I’m not that bad.” Then there are others who enjoy groveling and wallowing in their guilt. Maybe, if we’re honest, we all are like them from time to time.
How do you strike a balance in the prayer of confession so you move from awareness of sin to acceptance of forgiveness? Where do you find helpful models for prayers of confession?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Biblical Roots
It is no surprise that Christian worship finds its roots in Scripture. Biblical scholars have long noted many passages that reflect the ancient pattern and practices we see acted out each Sunday.
Two passages commonly held up as models for Christian worship are the Call of Isaiah (Isaiah 6) and the Road to Emmaus Story (Luke 24:13-35).
The pattern for the Service of the Word is laid out in Isaiah 6.
- Glorious adoration of Almighty God starts the proceedings, and Isaiah is overwhelmed by the power of the praise.
- All the celebration of the greatness of God serves to remind him of his own smallness, and he moves from adoration to confession. Not only does he blurt out his own personal shortcomings, but those of his society and culture as well.
- Forgiveness comes in the form of a glowing hot coal on his unclean lips, taking away guilt and blotting out sin. Isaiah is now ready to hear the word of the Lord.
- God’s word is spoken—with an appeal for a messenger to speak forth for God. Isaiah volunteers. And he receives the message to carry—a word people will not want to hear. It’s going to be a tough job.
The story of the disciples on the Road to Emmaus provides another pattern, bringing together the Service of the Word and the Service of the Sacrament.
- While on the road, a Stranger preaches to the forlorn disciples, interpreting the Scriptures about himself as the messiah.
- Stopping for respite and a meal, the Stranger becomes the host and “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.
- As he broke bread, they instantly recognize Jesus present with them, and reflect on how he opened the Scriptures to them.
Overlay the two passages, and you have a fair outline of basic Christian worship.
Too many people fail to realize the biblical basis of what happens on Sunday morning. When we lose that anchor, the order of worship drifts and turns into an agenda of items to be accomplished, or, even worse, a hodge-podge of random activities.
If we will keep worship’s biblical roots in mind as we plan and lead worship, we have a chance of keeping our liturgical theology in line with the biblical message.
Have you ever thought of having a Bible Study on these two passages as an introduction to understanding worship in your church? How about other biblical passages that inform our liturgy? It’d be worth a try.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Invocation?
I worshipped recently in a church in Albany which showed near the top of its order of service the rubric, “Invocation.” Now worship leaders may think they know what that means, but I’m more concerned about how the pew-sitters perceive it.
The most common definition is “a form of prayer invoking God’s presence, esp. one said at the beginning of a religious service or public ceremony.” What’s implied by such an invocatory prayer at the start is that God has to be invited or won’t show up. What’s more, it assumes that we’ve come together on our own, that the party is ours, and we’re the ones to extend the invitation heavenward.
All in one fell swoop, this brand of invocation turns the notion of grace around so that we become the gracious hosts with God the guest in our church home, making the gathering more of a club than the fellowship of God’s people. Furthermore, it ignores the fact that God takes the initiative in calling us to worship (hence the use of biblical texts for the “Call to Worship”). It is God’s grace that summons and welcomes us, not the other way around.
There are other uses of invocations where God is summoned to appear which are easier to understand, even approve. The invocation at the beginning of the service club meeting may not be so bad because one would not likely assume that God would appear uninvited. Congress and other government bodies often have an opening invocation, and the considerable need for God’s presence in such venues certainly justifies it.
But not starting off the worship service. God has long since invited God’s own children and has been waiting for us all along, longing for our appearance. So our prayers at the beginning of the service acknowledge our relationship to God, and express the praise of “the creature before the Creator, the redeemed before the Redeemer” (BCW, p.35). Better, then, to call it “Prayer of Adoration,” or even “Opening Prayer.”
I don’t think this is mere semantics or liturgical finickiness. Let’s keep our sequence straight. God’s grace is prevenient. We worship in response.
What does the “Gathering” part of your worship service look like? What impression does it leave with the worshippers? It’s worth checking.
The most common definition is “a form of prayer invoking God’s presence, esp. one said at the beginning of a religious service or public ceremony.” What’s implied by such an invocatory prayer at the start is that God has to be invited or won’t show up. What’s more, it assumes that we’ve come together on our own, that the party is ours, and we’re the ones to extend the invitation heavenward.
All in one fell swoop, this brand of invocation turns the notion of grace around so that we become the gracious hosts with God the guest in our church home, making the gathering more of a club than the fellowship of God’s people. Furthermore, it ignores the fact that God takes the initiative in calling us to worship (hence the use of biblical texts for the “Call to Worship”). It is God’s grace that summons and welcomes us, not the other way around.
There are other uses of invocations where God is summoned to appear which are easier to understand, even approve. The invocation at the beginning of the service club meeting may not be so bad because one would not likely assume that God would appear uninvited. Congress and other government bodies often have an opening invocation, and the considerable need for God’s presence in such venues certainly justifies it.
But not starting off the worship service. God has long since invited God’s own children and has been waiting for us all along, longing for our appearance. So our prayers at the beginning of the service acknowledge our relationship to God, and express the praise of “the creature before the Creator, the redeemed before the Redeemer” (BCW, p.35). Better, then, to call it “Prayer of Adoration,” or even “Opening Prayer.”
I don’t think this is mere semantics or liturgical finickiness. Let’s keep our sequence straight. God’s grace is prevenient. We worship in response.
What does the “Gathering” part of your worship service look like? What impression does it leave with the worshippers? It’s worth checking.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
"Decently and in Order"
There’s a Presbyterian phrase, if ever there was one. We all know stated clerks who have it emblazoned on the covers of their Roberts’ Rules and constitutions. Decent orderliness is highly desired, even if not always achieved.
All of that, however, is not the original context of the phrase. It appeared long before there were parliamentary councils for Christians to worry over. Take a look at 1 Corinthians 14, and you’ll find it at the tail end of a long chapter in which Paul comments on worship. That’s right, worship.
Paul has a lot to say about whether people should or shouldn’t speak in tongues in church, and how if they do someone needs to interpret so the gathered faithful do not sit there in glassy-eyed bewilderment.
Prophesying is a good thing, Paul said, but even that has its limits. Prophets can’t all talk at the same time or it will sound like much ado about nothing.
Then he went on to suggest that women, if they want to speak in church, should stifle it and talk to their husbands when they get home. It was not a popular text for women, it’s safe to guess.
Now the point is not whether you agree or disagree with speaking in tongues, prophesying or women speaking in church. The point is that Paul was admonishing the Corinthians about what happened, or didn’t happen, when they were gathered for worship.
And here’s Paul’s punch-line: “Let all things be done decently and in order.” (KJV) God deserves worship that is “decent” and worthy, and that is “orderly” and makes sense.
From the beginning there has been a definite “order” to Christian worship, generally referred to in scholarly parlance as the “Ordo.” Simply, it’s a technical term referring to the four-fold pattern of Christian worship: Gathering, Word, Eucharist, Sending. (See BCW, pp. 33 ff.)
The Ordo came to pass in this way. The first followers of Jesus were Jews as he was, so they continued synagogue worship oriented around Torah, God’s Word. But they had also had unique experiences with Jesus, meals like the Last Supper before he died, and more meals like on the road to Emmaus after he was raised. So they continued to break bread together, giving thanks at the table as they had done with Jesus. And the two, Word and Sacrament, were welded together.
Of course, they started being gathered as a community. But they didn’t do it just because they thought it was a nice idea, or they liked the people, or the speakers were enthralling, even though all of those things may have been true. They were gathered because they sensed a call from God to belong to Christ and one another.
At the other end of their time together they experienced a kind of spiritual shove back into the regular world. No luxury camping out in the community for them. They were sent back to where they came from, sent to follow their risen Lord, sent by the same One who called them in the first place. So that’s the basic outline of worship, the Ordo, the common pattern of Christian worship most everywhere, most all the time the past two millennia.
But the four parts of the Ordo are really not separate things. They constitute a continuum, and Christian worship is an uninterrupted journey from being drawn in together, through hearing the story of God’s gracious love in Jesus Christ and acting out gratitude for God’s blessings, to being sent out the door to follow him wherever he leads. It’s all of a piece. So if any part is lopped off or given short shrift, like celebrating the Lord’s Supper only occasionally, it stops being orderly. And I’d say that’s not decent either. (See my post on “A Birthday Present”.)
How does the “Ordo” play out on Sunday morning where you are? Is everything there that needs to be? Does it flow smoothly? Is the course of the journey clear? Or is it just an “order of worship” lined up like items on an agenda to be gotten through in a timely fashion?
All of that, however, is not the original context of the phrase. It appeared long before there were parliamentary councils for Christians to worry over. Take a look at 1 Corinthians 14, and you’ll find it at the tail end of a long chapter in which Paul comments on worship. That’s right, worship.
Paul has a lot to say about whether people should or shouldn’t speak in tongues in church, and how if they do someone needs to interpret so the gathered faithful do not sit there in glassy-eyed bewilderment.
Prophesying is a good thing, Paul said, but even that has its limits. Prophets can’t all talk at the same time or it will sound like much ado about nothing.
Then he went on to suggest that women, if they want to speak in church, should stifle it and talk to their husbands when they get home. It was not a popular text for women, it’s safe to guess.
Now the point is not whether you agree or disagree with speaking in tongues, prophesying or women speaking in church. The point is that Paul was admonishing the Corinthians about what happened, or didn’t happen, when they were gathered for worship.
And here’s Paul’s punch-line: “Let all things be done decently and in order.” (KJV) God deserves worship that is “decent” and worthy, and that is “orderly” and makes sense.
From the beginning there has been a definite “order” to Christian worship, generally referred to in scholarly parlance as the “Ordo.” Simply, it’s a technical term referring to the four-fold pattern of Christian worship: Gathering, Word, Eucharist, Sending. (See BCW, pp. 33 ff.)
The Ordo came to pass in this way. The first followers of Jesus were Jews as he was, so they continued synagogue worship oriented around Torah, God’s Word. But they had also had unique experiences with Jesus, meals like the Last Supper before he died, and more meals like on the road to Emmaus after he was raised. So they continued to break bread together, giving thanks at the table as they had done with Jesus. And the two, Word and Sacrament, were welded together.
Of course, they started being gathered as a community. But they didn’t do it just because they thought it was a nice idea, or they liked the people, or the speakers were enthralling, even though all of those things may have been true. They were gathered because they sensed a call from God to belong to Christ and one another.
At the other end of their time together they experienced a kind of spiritual shove back into the regular world. No luxury camping out in the community for them. They were sent back to where they came from, sent to follow their risen Lord, sent by the same One who called them in the first place. So that’s the basic outline of worship, the Ordo, the common pattern of Christian worship most everywhere, most all the time the past two millennia.
But the four parts of the Ordo are really not separate things. They constitute a continuum, and Christian worship is an uninterrupted journey from being drawn in together, through hearing the story of God’s gracious love in Jesus Christ and acting out gratitude for God’s blessings, to being sent out the door to follow him wherever he leads. It’s all of a piece. So if any part is lopped off or given short shrift, like celebrating the Lord’s Supper only occasionally, it stops being orderly. And I’d say that’s not decent either. (See my post on “A Birthday Present”.)
How does the “Ordo” play out on Sunday morning where you are? Is everything there that needs to be? Does it flow smoothly? Is the course of the journey clear? Or is it just an “order of worship” lined up like items on an agenda to be gotten through in a timely fashion?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Calvin's Birthday Present
Here's an idea for a birthday present.
For John Calvin, whose 500th birthday we'll celebrate (others may observe, and most will ignore) on July 10--let's have communion in our churches on every Lord's Day. In his own time, Calvin was never able to convince anybody of the necessity of weekly communion and the failure of faith when obedience to the bidding of Christ to take, eat and drink was less frequent. So what a nice gift we Presbyterian and Reformed sorts, not to mention many other sorts, could package up for our noted ancestor if we decided and acted to come to the Lord's Table every Sunday.
If you think that's not likely, you're absolutely right. Why is it that so many Protestant Christians are adverse to frequent communion? Here are some of the reasons I've heard:
1. "If we did it every week, it would lose it's meaning. When we do it just a few times a year, it's more special."
Well, yes, I answer sarcastically. Just like we should reserve displays of affection for our spouses to quarterly or monthly, else they get used to the hugs and kisses and think they're not special.
2. "It's a lot of trouble, with all those cups to fill and clean, and bread to bake and everything."
To which I answer, again sarcastically: We sure wouldn't want to make our worship of God in the least inconvenient.
3. "We don't want to do that. That's what the Catholics do."
My reply, sarcastically one more time: And we don't want to be like, well, like them.
I can't really believe that people in our churches and on our governing boards are as silly as that, so I look around for more sensible reasons for the preference for infrequent communion.
For one thing, most people have forgotten what the Lord's Supper is all about. At the Lord's Table we are fed in order that all of us together may be nurtured and nourished as the Body of Christ, and carry out his ministry in the world. We have allowed the meaning to leak out of it, and for many people it's an empty ritual. In a word, Communion has become boring.
Number two is that we've forgotten about the witness of Scripture, how "breaking of bread" was "steadfastly" observed (Acts 2:42) in the early church, and that Paul testified strongly to the Corinthians about the importance of the sacrament. Another evidence of our corporate biblical illiteracy.
A third factor is undoubtedly the "stiff-neckedness" of Christians in persisting in ways and beliefs contrary to what we all pretty much know is right anyhow. Something there about what they used to call "total depravity."
So those are some reasons for why we don't have weekly communion. And I'm sure others will be able to come up with more. What then are good reasons why we should celebrate the sacrament every week when we go to church?
1. Lord's Day worship is incomplete without it. From the very beginning, the Christian sacrament of the Table was joined to the reading of the sacred scripture to make the unique service of the followers of Jesus. It is the ministry of Word and Sacrament, to which many of us were ordained. The two simply belong together, and one without the other is like trying to clap with one hand.
2. Communion when observed is, among other things, the gift of unity for all the people brought together in the Body of Christ. It is a shared action, a joint effort, a common rejoicing. It makes us the Church.
3. The Lord's Supper is rich in meaning, not just meaning we hear about, but sensual messages of touch and taste and smell that defy description. It is an experience that affects us in ways words do not and cannot.
4. The most powerful and simplest reason is that we were graciously invited by Jesus to come, take, eat and drink--and that invitation, coming from him, is no less than a command to us.
If we did have communion every week--and those who seriously follow this practice know this--we would soon find that we cannot live without it. Just as we cannot live without the hugs and kisses of affection from those we love, so we cannot live without the celebration of the love of Jesus Christ in the sacrament. It is, in fact, a means by which God's grace comes to us. Why would we ever want to ignore it?
It would be a nice present, I think, for John Calvin if we finally came around to weekly communion. Something like a big 500th Birthday hug and kiss for him. What do you think?
For John Calvin, whose 500th birthday we'll celebrate (others may observe, and most will ignore) on July 10--let's have communion in our churches on every Lord's Day. In his own time, Calvin was never able to convince anybody of the necessity of weekly communion and the failure of faith when obedience to the bidding of Christ to take, eat and drink was less frequent. So what a nice gift we Presbyterian and Reformed sorts, not to mention many other sorts, could package up for our noted ancestor if we decided and acted to come to the Lord's Table every Sunday.
If you think that's not likely, you're absolutely right. Why is it that so many Protestant Christians are adverse to frequent communion? Here are some of the reasons I've heard:
1. "If we did it every week, it would lose it's meaning. When we do it just a few times a year, it's more special."
Well, yes, I answer sarcastically. Just like we should reserve displays of affection for our spouses to quarterly or monthly, else they get used to the hugs and kisses and think they're not special.
2. "It's a lot of trouble, with all those cups to fill and clean, and bread to bake and everything."
To which I answer, again sarcastically: We sure wouldn't want to make our worship of God in the least inconvenient.
3. "We don't want to do that. That's what the Catholics do."
My reply, sarcastically one more time: And we don't want to be like, well, like them.
I can't really believe that people in our churches and on our governing boards are as silly as that, so I look around for more sensible reasons for the preference for infrequent communion.
For one thing, most people have forgotten what the Lord's Supper is all about. At the Lord's Table we are fed in order that all of us together may be nurtured and nourished as the Body of Christ, and carry out his ministry in the world. We have allowed the meaning to leak out of it, and for many people it's an empty ritual. In a word, Communion has become boring.
Number two is that we've forgotten about the witness of Scripture, how "breaking of bread" was "steadfastly" observed (Acts 2:42) in the early church, and that Paul testified strongly to the Corinthians about the importance of the sacrament. Another evidence of our corporate biblical illiteracy.
A third factor is undoubtedly the "stiff-neckedness" of Christians in persisting in ways and beliefs contrary to what we all pretty much know is right anyhow. Something there about what they used to call "total depravity."
So those are some reasons for why we don't have weekly communion. And I'm sure others will be able to come up with more. What then are good reasons why we should celebrate the sacrament every week when we go to church?
1. Lord's Day worship is incomplete without it. From the very beginning, the Christian sacrament of the Table was joined to the reading of the sacred scripture to make the unique service of the followers of Jesus. It is the ministry of Word and Sacrament, to which many of us were ordained. The two simply belong together, and one without the other is like trying to clap with one hand.
2. Communion when observed is, among other things, the gift of unity for all the people brought together in the Body of Christ. It is a shared action, a joint effort, a common rejoicing. It makes us the Church.
3. The Lord's Supper is rich in meaning, not just meaning we hear about, but sensual messages of touch and taste and smell that defy description. It is an experience that affects us in ways words do not and cannot.
4. The most powerful and simplest reason is that we were graciously invited by Jesus to come, take, eat and drink--and that invitation, coming from him, is no less than a command to us.
If we did have communion every week--and those who seriously follow this practice know this--we would soon find that we cannot live without it. Just as we cannot live without the hugs and kisses of affection from those we love, so we cannot live without the celebration of the love of Jesus Christ in the sacrament. It is, in fact, a means by which God's grace comes to us. Why would we ever want to ignore it?
It would be a nice present, I think, for John Calvin if we finally came around to weekly communion. Something like a big 500th Birthday hug and kiss for him. What do you think?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Worship As Theater
It was a century and a half ago that Søren Kierkegaard, the Danish existential philosopher-theologian, wrote his "edifying discourse" called Purity of Heart Is To Will One Thing. In it he made a critique of Christian worship we'd do well to apply to what goes on in our churches today.
The gist of his criticism is this: Worship is analagous to theater, but we have the various roles and responsibilities confused.
In the theater there are actors, prompters, and an audience. The same functions can be found in the church at worship--conventional church "wisdom" says that the actors are the clergy and other worship leaders, the prompter is God who tells them what to say or sing, and the audience is the congregation sitting passively in the pews watching the performance.
It may be "conventional wisdom," but SK says we've got it all wrong. We need to shift the responsibilities one step around the triangle so that, in church, it comes out like this: the actors are the congregation, the prompters are the clergy and other worship leaders, and God is the audience.
Ah, Søren, where are you now that we need you?
One of the major problems, to my way of thinking, with Christian worship today is the tendency to slip into the worship-as-performance mentality, and busy ourselves with the wrong things.
The platform at the front of the worship space is not a stage. Yet the preacher and singers easily take their places and perform their acts.
Wandering preachers, meandering not only around the worship space but also around their thoughts, tend to become dramatists rather than prophets.
Song leaders who line up across the front, microphones in hand, tapping out the beat of pop-style songs, become players to the congregation instead of encouragers of the congregation.
And the band that clatters and crashes out its music contributes little more than call attention to itself.
Even audio-visual projections on a screen put the congregation into the passive pew-potato mode like they are when watching TV.
Nowhere in the service is this more pernicious than in the proclamation of the Word by preaching. Is the preacher a mere performer, strutting upon the stage? Or is she perhaps a prompter, an encourager of the souls looking up with hope on their faces, hope that they might hear the redeeming word of grace?
There is a diference. A big difference. An effective sermon engages the listeners, intellectually, emotionally and spiritually, in order to urge their response to God in renewed commitment to follow Jesus Christ.
SK's point which we should take to heart is that the congregation is doing the worship. "Liturgy," after all, means "the work of the people." Ministers of Word and Sacrament, ministers of music, and all the rest are but hired help, standing helpfully behind the scenes making it possible for the real actors in the drama of worship to do their very best.
If you like a challenge, take this model and hold it up alongside your church's worship service. Is there more performing in front of the congregation than there is praying and praising by it?
You have to remember, that God is the audience of our worship. As SK put it, "God is the critical theatergoer who looks on to see how the lines are spoken...."
The gist of his criticism is this: Worship is analagous to theater, but we have the various roles and responsibilities confused.
In the theater there are actors, prompters, and an audience. The same functions can be found in the church at worship--conventional church "wisdom" says that the actors are the clergy and other worship leaders, the prompter is God who tells them what to say or sing, and the audience is the congregation sitting passively in the pews watching the performance.
It may be "conventional wisdom," but SK says we've got it all wrong. We need to shift the responsibilities one step around the triangle so that, in church, it comes out like this: the actors are the congregation, the prompters are the clergy and other worship leaders, and God is the audience.
Ah, Søren, where are you now that we need you?
One of the major problems, to my way of thinking, with Christian worship today is the tendency to slip into the worship-as-performance mentality, and busy ourselves with the wrong things.
The platform at the front of the worship space is not a stage. Yet the preacher and singers easily take their places and perform their acts.
Wandering preachers, meandering not only around the worship space but also around their thoughts, tend to become dramatists rather than prophets.
Song leaders who line up across the front, microphones in hand, tapping out the beat of pop-style songs, become players to the congregation instead of encouragers of the congregation.
And the band that clatters and crashes out its music contributes little more than call attention to itself.
Even audio-visual projections on a screen put the congregation into the passive pew-potato mode like they are when watching TV.
Nowhere in the service is this more pernicious than in the proclamation of the Word by preaching. Is the preacher a mere performer, strutting upon the stage? Or is she perhaps a prompter, an encourager of the souls looking up with hope on their faces, hope that they might hear the redeeming word of grace?
There is a diference. A big difference. An effective sermon engages the listeners, intellectually, emotionally and spiritually, in order to urge their response to God in renewed commitment to follow Jesus Christ.
SK's point which we should take to heart is that the congregation is doing the worship. "Liturgy," after all, means "the work of the people." Ministers of Word and Sacrament, ministers of music, and all the rest are but hired help, standing helpfully behind the scenes making it possible for the real actors in the drama of worship to do their very best.
If you like a challenge, take this model and hold it up alongside your church's worship service. Is there more performing in front of the congregation than there is praying and praising by it?
You have to remember, that God is the audience of our worship. As SK put it, "God is the critical theatergoer who looks on to see how the lines are spoken...."
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