No matter what is happening in the community, we gather to offer homage to the Most High God, and nothing should distract us from this purpose.
—John Killinger
On the Sunday nearest a recent Memorial Day, my wife and I attended a well-known church in Southern California. The church is noted for its pizzazz, but we hardly were prepared for everything that happened.
For starters, a Native American, dressed in buckskin jacket, sang "God Bless America," and the minister interviewed a recently returned Beirut hostage. Then a military squad paraded up and down the aisles, boots clicking smartly on the floor and rifles rotated and shouldered in striking precision.
Two high school bands came playing down the aisles, meeting before the chancel as majorettes twirled and spun their batons. As a finale, a dozen ushers marched across the chancel, carrying something that resembled an enormous carpet. When they had attached their burden to a series of wires, a ninety-foot American flag rose behind the choir, while the bands played, the majorettes twirled, the rifle guard stood at attention, and we all sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."
It was quite a show for the two dollars I dropped in the offering plate.
I went away thinking of Luther's phrase the Babylonian captivity of the church and wondering if perhaps he would have called this "the Hollywoodian captivity of the church."
But my misgivings about the appropriateness of this hooha placed me in a definite minority. Most of the congregants, I could tell from their whispers, were mightily impressed. Some even professed to have felt the presence of the Lord.
Our Puritan ancestors, of course, would have been apoplectic. They tended to disregard holidays and special events completely—even Christmas and Easter—and held to simple, unadorned worship of God. Psalms and prayers and admonitions were good enough for them Sunday after Sunday, with the admonitions often running to "twenty-seventhly" and "twenty-eighthly."
In our age, when special days for mothers, fathers, national independence, and the commemoration of notable historic figures and events is an integral part of community life, what is an appropriate liturgical approach?
A Convergence of Principles
Should Christians adhere strictly to their usual Sunday worship, or is it permissible to substitute, alter, or embellish our worship routines?
Two principles are involved.
The first is the principle of integrity. Worship is always, without exception, the worship of God. That fact is central. No matter whose birthday it is or what is happening in the community, we gather to offer homage to the Most High God. Nothing should distract us from this purpose.
Every service of worship, whether a regular Sunday service, a holiday service, a special anniversary service, or a service of installation for a new minister, should have as its singular purpose to set us once more in the presence of Almighty God. It is our opportunity for praise and prayer and for renewing faith and commitment. If our worship does not do this, then it is not worth our time and effort. We might as well join the great weekend migrations to the seashore or the Sunday pilgrimages to the ball park.
The second principle is accommodation. As we ponder the gospel, we see that God, in every age, has reached out to human beings. This is what the Incarnation was about—Deity enrobed in human flesh in order to reach us on our level, to speak in ways we could hear with our limited understanding.
Every worship service is imperfect, a fumbling attempt to frame praise, to recognize the Ineffable in our midst. It is, at best, a combination of words, sounds, and silences by which we try to focus our attention on the One who created and sustains our world. Granted, the Spirit inspires and directs our attempt, but we can never produce sounds and silences worthy of Almighty God.
Given that every worship service is in a sense an accommodation to human weakness, perhaps Christmas and Easter and Pentecost, and even Mother's Day, the Fourth of July, and Denominational Emphasis Day can be accommodated for worship. We are obligated, of course, to see that the principle of integrity is observed, so that all the hymns and prayers and innovative features point the worshiper unmistakably to God and not to a vacuum encased in frivolity. But considering who we are, and that our attention is more easily garnered by special decorations and emphases at certain times of the year, I believe our ability to worship, far from being hindered, is actually abetted by the observance of seasonal liturgies.
John Westerhoff and William Willimon even go so far as to say, in Liturgy and Learning Through the Life Cycle, that "without holidays our days will not become holy days." When we begin where people are, caught up in the spirit of special days and seasons, we can lead them more readily to an experience of the presence of God.
Following the Church Calendar
There is certainly nothing new in following the church calendar. As far back as Christians can recall, we've celebrated the days and seasons of the church year with "propers," prayers and readings traditionally attached to those days.
"Without the propers," says James F. White in New Forms of Worship, "Christian worship would become completely routine and monotonous. Awareness of the function of propers leads to a more lively presentation of the fullness of the gospel. Children, our best teachers about worship, have long demonstrated the importance of special occasions in communicating civic or historical meaning. A child lives from Halloween to Thanksgiving till Christmas, and so on throughout the year. And much of what he learns about America and Christianity is communicated by the yearly cycle. The Christian year provides one of our best means for adding interest and variety to worship."
A small step from using a variety of prayers and hymns is using other, more innovative means of altering our liturgies at particular times of the year. Families or other small groups giving Advent readings while lighting the candles of the Advent wreath, for example, add a meaningful dimension to worship. The readings can include both familiar passages and thoughtfully selected sentences or paragraphs from contemporary writings.
Suppose the Advent text "In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the Desert of Judea and saying, 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near' " (Matt. 3:1) were coupled with this reading from Chop Wood, Carry Water:
[P. D.] Ouspensky [author of In Search of the Miraculous] met with his students when he knew he was dying. He refused to answer any of their questions about the system he had been teaching.
"Be simpler," he told them. "Start with what you know."
The necessary first step, then, is to acknowledge our present condition, even if it is (as it often is) one of confusion, hesitation, and doubt. This acknowledgement is the essence of spirituality. It is a simple act, but only by this simple act—seeing where we are rather than imagining where we would like to be—can we begin the process of transforming all those things we usually consider stumbling blocks into the stepping stones they really are.
Or consider linking "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned" (Isa. 9:2) with the description from Morris West's The Clowns of God of former Pope Gregory's experience of the mystical presence while recovering from a stroke:
Somewhere in the deep core of himself—that sorry fortress so beset and bombarded and ruined—there was a place of light where the Other dwelt, and where, when he could withdraw to it, there was communion of love, blissful but all too brief. It was like—what was it like?—deaf Beethoven with his head full of glories, Einstein bereft of mathematics to express the mysteries he understood at the end.
Many Protestants, realizing our ancestors sometimes threw out the meaning with the holy water, are now reclaiming Lent and Holy Week as times of worship and reflection. Lent is a wonderful time for a series of meditations/discussions/sermons on such topics as Disciplines of the Christian Life, In the Steps of the Master, Understanding the Mystics, and A Pilgrimage in Prayer. Studies such as these are designed to lead thoughtful Christians to a renewal of the inner life before the great celebration of Easter.
Having personally been involved in Ash Wednesday services from one end of the country to the other, I can testify to the excitement many Christians are finding in recovering this ancient liturgical occasion. When I've conducted such services, I've made clear to worshipers their option of not being marked by ashes (usually in the sign of the cross on the forehead) before proceeding to Communion, but few chose to abstain.
One prominent businessman said on such an occasion, "I don't think I've ever before fully understood the meaning of humility as I understand it now," He wore the smudge of ashes on his forehead all day and had many opportunities to witness to his faith among colleagues.
Holy Week Services
Palm Sunday gives us a marvelous day for reconsidering the values by which we live and the steadfastness or sincerity of the religious commitment we have made. In a service in which the children and choir members process with palm branches (easily obtainable from local florists), the congregation can voice the following prayer of confession:
As our minds and hearts are drawn once more to the Holy City, O Lord, we realize how like our own city it was, filled with tension and intrigue, betrayal and violence. Forgive us for our shallowness and deceit, and for the willingness with which we would crucify Christ if he were here today. Help us look at ourselves and sob bitterly as Peter did, knowing that we are selfish and shortsighted, as he was. And grant that, having moved through the sad and somber events of this week, we shall be prepared for renewal and affirmation on Easter, when we celebrate your victory over evil and death. Amen.
Among our Holy Week observances at the First Congregational Church of Los Angeles were two unique services: one on Maundy Thursday evening and one on Easter eve.
The Maundy Thursday service began in the chapel with a call to worship, a hymn, a prayer, and an invitation to follow the deacons in a silent processional to the church's crypt. In the crypt, we took our places around candlelit tables arranged in the form of a cross. The deacons served a light meal of broth and brown bread, which we ate to the accompaniment of Scripture readings about the sufferings and crucifixion of Christ. A quartet sang hymns, and we celebrated Communion quietly.
After hearing more Scripture readings, ending with the words, "And they sang a hymn and went out," we sat in darkness as a light slowly illumined a large, wooden cross at the end of the room. A recording of "The Old Rugged Cross" sounded softly in the background. In unison, we arose and moved toward the cross, with each person pausing in silent prayer before passing through the doors.
The Easter eve service, designed many years ago by Dr. James W. Fifield, is called "The Service of the Holy Flame." It consists of a series of choral numbers and Scripture readings about the Crucifixion, alternately rendered, leading to a climax in the reading of Matthew 27:50-54, the passage about the earthquake at the time of the Crucifixion. While the passage is read, the organist improvises sounds of thunder and the splitting earth. The effect is dramatic, especially when the lights go out.
Then, as the words of the angel announcing the Resurrection are read, a great flame shoots up in the chancel (a special brazier, constructed years ago, is used for this), illuminating the front of the church. The Easter flowers, including a large cross of Easter lilies, previously draped in black cloth, become visible in their full glory. The choir bursts into the magnificent "Hallelujah" chorus, and the entire congregation stands in awe and respect.
Writing an invitation to the city of Los Angeles to attend this annual service, I once concluded, "Bring your own goosepimples!" I was being truthful. The service never failed to evoke such a response.
Easter was never anticlimactic. How could it be? But if such were ever possible, it would have been after these services during Holy Week.
The Coming of the Spirit
We place great emphasis on Christmas and the coming of God the Son, so therefore Pentecost, when we celebrate the coming of God the Spirit, ought to command equal time. But often it doesn't. It is understandable, perhaps; a baby is easier to celebrate than a "holy ghost." But it leaves us in the wrong phase of the Christian story.
How do we convey the sense of thrill and discovery that marked that first Pentecostal experience?
One church I visited played a recording of a babble of voices over the amplifying system at intervals during the liturgy. Another broadcast a recording of the rushing wind. Another held a jazz service, with all the music played and sung in syncopated rhythm. Everybody—even the very old members—swayed and tapped their feet and clapped their hands in accompaniment. Everyone came out of church that day smiling and happy.
At our church in Los Angeles, we always concluded our Pentecost services in the church's forecourt, where the young people gave everyone a helium-filled balloon. At a given signal, we all released our balloons and watched them ascend like a colorful mosaic into the sky. Invariably, a gasp of delight went up from the crowd. People went away having heard—and seen—the promise of the gospel, that the divine Spirit is at work in the world, bringing all things to God's intended conclusion.
From Pentecost to Advent
The Christian year doesn't end with Pentecost and take up again with Advent. The season from one to the other is given over to the celebration of Christian mission in the world, and is replete with opportunities for special liturgies. The worship commission of the United Methodist Church decided a few years ago to rename this period Kingdomtide and to use it to reemphasize in a variety of ways the work of God's people under the leadership of the Spirit.
The season climaxes with All Saints' Day on November 1, the Christian version of Memorial Day, when we honor the memory of all the saints of God who have preceded us in the faith. The prior Sunday presents a grand occasion for emphasizing such themes as the perseverance of the saints, the priesthood of all believers, the communion of the saints, and the role of the saints in the work of the kingdom. It also can be a wonderful time for a service of dedication to recognize memorial gifts.
Churches with a strong sense of the Reformation tradition often combine the acknowledgement of All Saints with Reformation Day, October 31, which commemorates Martin Luther's tacking his Ninety-Five Theses to the door of the castle church in Wittenberg on October 31, 1517. The great Lutheran hymn "A Mighty Fortress" is heard in the same liturgy with Ralph Vaughan Williams's majestic rendering of "For All the Saints."
Along the way to Reformation Day and All Saints, many Protestant churches are beginning to join with Roman Catholics in celebrating the October birthday of Francis of Assisi, the founder of the Franciscan Order famed for his gentleness to animals. The theme for St. Francis' Day usually centers on world peace or respect for the entire created order of God.
A Host of Secular Occasions
Many pastors have no problem designing worship experiences for services covered by the church calendar, but they struggle with acknowledging such secular days as Mother's Day, Father's Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day. What should our position be?
Again I refer to the principles of integrity and accommodation. If the liturgies point unwaveringly to the glory of God, I don't hesitate to appropriate the interests and enthusiasms of the secular world and incorporate them into Christian worship.
Valentine's Day. This day, whose origin has at best a spurious relationship to Christian History, is a sensible time to talk about the true nature of love, distinguishing between the eros of popular tradition and the agape or undeserved love of the Christian gospel. It's not difficult to construct an entire liturgy around the subject of love. Here is a paraphrase of parts of 1 Corinthians 13 I wrote as a reading in such a liturgy:
If I sing with the charisma of a rock star or speak with the power of Billy Graham, but haven't any love, I am as useless as a burglar alarm nobody pays any attention to. If I give everything I have to feed the poor and house the homeless, and if I go to prison for the blacks of South Africa, and don't have any love, it isn't worth a single grain of rice!
Love bears the stress and truly cares about people. It doesn't worry when others get more than their due, and it isn't anxious to receive the credit. Love doesn't strut, full of its own glory. It doesn't deal rudely or abruptly with others. Love doesn't engage in gossip, or quietly enjoy when others get into trouble. Instead, it always looks for the good in people and situations.
Love possesses an almost inexhaustible capacity for belief and hope and endurance.
The ability to look into the future is all right, but it is limited. The same is true of the gift of tongues or the ability to know everything. The fact is, everything about us is human and therefore less than perfect, even our most heavenly talents and attributes.
Someday, when we are with the Lord, we will see everything aright. It all has to do with the seasons of our understanding. When we were preschoolers, we thought and behaved with the understanding of preschoolers. Now that we are grown, we see how much we knew or believed then was imperfect or ridiculous; and when we get to heaven, we will realize how much of what we know and understand now is also imperfect and ridiculous.
For now it is as though we look into a steamed-up mirror and can't see anything very clearly, but then the steam will be gone, and we will see everything as perfectly as if it were staring us in the face. Now, like the four blind men trying to describe an elephant, we understand only a small part of the truth; then, we shall be one with the truth, and everything we think and say will represent it fully and accurately.
Of all the meaningful things in life, having faith, being filled with hope, and experiencing love are among the most significant. But nothing compares with love. In this world, it is the greatest!
Mother's Day and Father's Day. These days of tribute offer similar opportunities to focus on the importance of love. For instance, here's a creed for the congregation to say on Mother's Day:
I believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, who was born of the promise to a virgin named Mary.
I believe in the love Mary gave her Son, that caused her to follow him in his ministry and stand by his Cross as he died.
I believe in the love of all mothers, and its importance in the lives of the children they bear.
It is stronger than steel, softer than down, and more resilient than a green sapling on the hillside.
It closes wounds, melts disappointments, and enables the weakest child to stand tall and straight in the fields of adversity.
I believe that this love, even at its best, is only the shadow love of God, a dark reflection of all that we can expect of Him, both in this life and the next.
And I believe that one of the most beautiful sights in the world is a mother who lets this greater love flow through her to her child, blessing the world with the tenderness of her touch and the tears of her joy.
Thank God for mothers, and thank mothers for helping us understand God!
The important thing, as demonstrated in this creed, is that all the materials of the liturgy—prayers, hymns, special music, unusual actions, and sermon—be compatible with the Christian faith and point the worshipers toward the God at the center of the faith.
Independence Day. This event, which can so easily become a trumpet-blowing, flag-waving occasion without reference to the Transcendent One, may be sensitively channeled into a worship experience that transforms our nationalism. Here, for example, is a prayer of confession for the congregation to use on the Sunday nearest the Fourth of July:
We confess to you, O Lord, our own sins and the sins of our nation: the sin of pride, when we have believed ourselves superior to others; the sin of despair, when we thought ourselves worse than others; the sin of greed, when we have sought our own welfare at the expense of others; the sin of wrongdoing, when we seized land or mistreated people without cause; the sin of poisoning the earth and sky and sea for our own selfish benefits; the sin of teaching our children to hate or to make war; the sin of pretending to be religious when we weren't. Send renewal in our time, O Lord; let the Spirit that was in Christ Jesus be now in us, that we may truly love you and that we may love our country for its great ideals and achievements, not for any sinful or selfish reasons. Amen.
I concluded this prayer with words of assurance using a citation from 2 Chronicles 7:14.
Leader: If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves,
People: If they will pray and seek my face, Leader: If they will turn from their wicked ways,
People: Then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.
Leader: This is the word of the Lord. Amen.
Labor Day. This occasion, which to many means little except a welcome occasion for a three-day weekend, offers splendid opportunities for the church to relate its message to anyone who works.
One church in Texas arranged for thirty of its members to appear in the worship service on Labor Day Sunday wearing the work clothes of their various occupations. They lined up across the front of the chancel as the minister gave a brief sermon on the sanctity of work when done to glorify God.
Afterward, many congregants commented that the service had made them value their own work more highly, seeing its place in God's world. A woman who worked as a waitress told the minister weeks later, "Since that service, I've actually been proud of what I do, and every night as I am working, I thank God for my job."
Thanksgiving. The biggest secular holiday readily accepted by Christians is, of course. Thanksgiving Day, which belongs not just to the church but to the nation as a whole. Because it is entwined with the nation's history, it is a wonderful occasion for inviting whole segments of the community that do not usually worship with us, including our Jewish friends. Many Christians have found, in fact, that this is the holiday par excellence for communitywide services and have taken the lead in bringing together Jews, Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, and Protestant groups for the celebration of God's bounty to our country and its pluralistic population.
Not only have such services resulted in better friendships among the various groups involved, they also have also led to a cross-fertilization of liturgical traditions, with Jews understanding Christian feelings for the cross of Christ and Christians gaining new appreciation for the Torah-scroll borne into the service by the Jews.
The Joy of Worship
Dom Gregory Dix's The Shape of the Liturgy, first published more than fifty years ago, remains one of the seminal studies of worship. Its major thesis is that the hours and days of worship exist for the purpose of sanctifying all of time. When we turn aside from what we are doing at particular hours to wait before God in humility and love, we are, in effect, converting all our hours and days to his use and glory. The times of worship, like knots in a string, lend their character to the entire stretch of time, from the beginning to eternity.
If this is true, then worship, the sanctification of time, is the most important work we ever do. It should be the best we are capable of Grafting and should represent our whole lives, not isolated segments of them.
When our worship is the best of which we are capable, we'll know the joy and satisfaction of helping ourselves and others worship God—a joy unmatched by the satisfaction of any other human undertaking.
Copyright © 1990 by Christianity Today
