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Christians exhibit a peculiar double-mindedness on the subject of worship. Nothing is as likely to stir passions in local congregations as a proposal to change the form of worship. Even modest modifications—the introduction of a hymn in a church that sings all praise songs, for example—can lead to bitter divisions. And yet at the same time, there is abundant evidence that the church regards worship as a matter of secondary importance. The typical survey of the history of Christianity can go on for several hundred pages with only a passing reference to the worship practices of earlier Christians. Many works in systematic theology probe the implications of a given doctrine for personal and social ethics while entirely neglecting its implications for worship. Many Christian artists, musicians, and architects save their best work for contexts outside the worshiping assembly. And worship courses often function as the plankton on the seminary curricular food chain.
These new works by Bernhard Lang, Frank Senn, Geoffrey Wainwright, and James White move in a decidedly different direction. As Lang notes, this is a topic "too intriguing, too puzzling, and too beautiful to be passed over in silence."
1.The first contribution of these four books is their impressive survey of the dazzling variety of Christian worship practices. Many of Christianity's most poignant and colorful moments have happened when believers have gathered for worship.
Imagine being served daily doses of Origen's allegorizing exegesis in the schoollike daily worship services in third-century Caesarea. Origen, Lang teaches us, was a pioneer of exegetical preaching, working through the entire Old Testament every three years. (Wouldn't Zwingli have been pleased?)
Imagine the terror of standing alongside the self-assured Puritan iconoclast William Dowsing, whose destructive axe undid centuries' worth of painstaking artistic craftsmanship in a fortnight. At least, White reminds us, Dowsing appreciated the intrinsic power of artistic works to shape the piety of a community, in contrast to many today who view liturgical art as nothing more than innocuous decoration.
Imagine being overcome by the effervescent energy of Shaker prophetess Ann Lee, whose "whirling" followers made liturgical dance a community event. As Lang remarks, worship in North America can be as ecstatic as any the world has seen.
Imagine the joy and fervor of Roman Catholic worshipers in Zaire who, following the reforms of Vatican II, have developed a vernacular, indigenous Missal for the Dioceses of Zairethat unites the solemn recitation of the ancient Eucharistic prayer with exuberant congregational dance and vivid African poetic images. The result, Wainwright observes, is a "splendidly Nicene affirmation … in African terms."
No other religion in recorded history features such a dazzling variety of ritual practices: everything from elaborate Byzantine vigils to exuberant Methodist frontier camp meetings; from the Dionysian ecstasy of the Toronto Laughter to the Apollonian reserve of a Presbyterian sermon. Everything from the trancelike seizures of Maria Woodworth-Etter to the precise rhetorical patterns of the Book of Common Prayer; from the brilliance of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel to the kitsch of burlap banners. Everything from the serene beauty of a Palestrina motet to the rugged earthiness of an Appalachian gospel quartet; from the sophisticated majesty of Chartres to the folk art that adorns a thatched-roof sanctuary; from the enforced silence of Quaker corporate mysticism to the sustained exuberance of an African American ring shout sermon.
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