The Fullness of Worship
Many Episcopalians understand The Book of Common Prayer to be the one main thing that holds their church together and distinguishes them from other churches. Other denominations may have confessional statements that are tightly held. Other denominations may rely on a top-down authority to create unity. Still other denominations may be held together by a particular interpretation of scripture. But what makes one Episcopal church similar to another is its common worship. You can see why this might be appealing to someone studying worship.
If you go to an Episcopal church on any given Sunday in Dallas, you will pray largely the same prayers as those I'm praying in Princeton. But what is more important to me is that many of those prayers are linked historically to the past. Even though there may be no indication in the prayer book itself, you would likely be praying with the ancient Christian Hippolytus of Rome from the year 215 or Saint Basil the Great from 350. This is nothing to say of how steeped the words of the prayer book are in actual biblical language. A very large percentage of prayers are taken from scripture in their wording or imagery. From my perspective the The Book of Common Prayer is quite biblical. For wasn't one of the main purposes of the Bible to be read publicly in the church? The words of scripture are praying-words. Click here to see an example from The Book of Common Prayer that is steeped in biblical images.
Despite all that I have said up to this point, it seems that the trend in the Episcopal church is to move away from the printed book. Rather than one set (or a few sets) of prayers being authorized, many prayers or a loose prayer format will be authorized. I've struggled with this change, as I've grown to love the ritual of The Book of Common Prayer. (An aside: While ritualism may be a bad thing, I do not believe ritual to be so. It is natural and good for humans to develop patterns in life. We get up at the same time each morning. We have habits of telling our loved ones "I love you." We brush our teeth before bed. If our habits constantly changed, we would go insane. The same is true in worship. Habits or customs or rituals of worship form us over time. When we say "I believe in God the Father, almighty maker of heaven and earth...," we live-into these words. I do not find that saying these words each and every week becomes boring or ritualistic. Rather, they form me into a Christian who believes--and more importantly acts from--the things I am saying.)
So, back to my earlier thought.... I have thought a lot about the future of The Book of Common Prayer as I have grown to love its language and meaning. And as I've seen trends to move away from its printed form, I suppose I've even mourned a bit. But I've begun to realize something, with the help of one of my priest-classmates. It isn't really so much the actual prayer book that appeals to me, but rather the fullness of worship that it exemplifies. There is a fatness in its worship that I have come to crave. And this fat is not something that can easily be trimmed off the edges, because it is integral to the entire piece of meat. This kind of worship is like a well-marbled steak. It is dispersed throughout the meat to give it a rich flavor. Without the fat it would be tough and dry.
In this kind of worship the images are rich. The language is moving. The gestures mime ancient holy actions. The entire liturgy is a divine drama. We don't come to church to merely remember Christ's supper in the upper room, but to participate in that supper. We don't come to merely hear the words of the gospel, but to enter in to the events. We come not as passive spectators, but active participants. This is why there is so much sitting and standing and kneeling and coming forward to take communion and responses from the people. This is the "school" for the divine habits of God's holy people.
This ethos (or atmosphere) is what the Episcopal church has a particular sensitivity to that appeals to me so much. And that is one reason why many people have chosen to take similar journeys to the Episcopal church, the Orthodox church, or the Catholic Church. And this sensitivity to a fullness of worship will remain even if the churches move away from The Book of Common Prayer. I have come to see that this fatness is what I really crave.
If you go to an Episcopal church on any given Sunday in Dallas, you will pray largely the same prayers as those I'm praying in Princeton. But what is more important to me is that many of those prayers are linked historically to the past. Even though there may be no indication in the prayer book itself, you would likely be praying with the ancient Christian Hippolytus of Rome from the year 215 or Saint Basil the Great from 350. This is nothing to say of how steeped the words of the prayer book are in actual biblical language. A very large percentage of prayers are taken from scripture in their wording or imagery. From my perspective the The Book of Common Prayer is quite biblical. For wasn't one of the main purposes of the Bible to be read publicly in the church? The words of scripture are praying-words. Click here to see an example from The Book of Common Prayer that is steeped in biblical images.
Despite all that I have said up to this point, it seems that the trend in the Episcopal church is to move away from the printed book. Rather than one set (or a few sets) of prayers being authorized, many prayers or a loose prayer format will be authorized. I've struggled with this change, as I've grown to love the ritual of The Book of Common Prayer. (An aside: While ritualism may be a bad thing, I do not believe ritual to be so. It is natural and good for humans to develop patterns in life. We get up at the same time each morning. We have habits of telling our loved ones "I love you." We brush our teeth before bed. If our habits constantly changed, we would go insane. The same is true in worship. Habits or customs or rituals of worship form us over time. When we say "I believe in God the Father, almighty maker of heaven and earth...," we live-into these words. I do not find that saying these words each and every week becomes boring or ritualistic. Rather, they form me into a Christian who believes--and more importantly acts from--the things I am saying.)
So, back to my earlier thought.... I have thought a lot about the future of The Book of Common Prayer as I have grown to love its language and meaning. And as I've seen trends to move away from its printed form, I suppose I've even mourned a bit. But I've begun to realize something, with the help of one of my priest-classmates. It isn't really so much the actual prayer book that appeals to me, but rather the fullness of worship that it exemplifies. There is a fatness in its worship that I have come to crave. And this fat is not something that can easily be trimmed off the edges, because it is integral to the entire piece of meat. This kind of worship is like a well-marbled steak. It is dispersed throughout the meat to give it a rich flavor. Without the fat it would be tough and dry.
In this kind of worship the images are rich. The language is moving. The gestures mime ancient holy actions. The entire liturgy is a divine drama. We don't come to church to merely remember Christ's supper in the upper room, but to participate in that supper. We don't come to merely hear the words of the gospel, but to enter in to the events. We come not as passive spectators, but active participants. This is why there is so much sitting and standing and kneeling and coming forward to take communion and responses from the people. This is the "school" for the divine habits of God's holy people.
This ethos (or atmosphere) is what the Episcopal church has a particular sensitivity to that appeals to me so much. And that is one reason why many people have chosen to take similar journeys to the Episcopal church, the Orthodox church, or the Catholic Church. And this sensitivity to a fullness of worship will remain even if the churches move away from The Book of Common Prayer. I have come to see that this fatness is what I really crave.
posted by J. Brent Bates | 9:42 AM
1 Comments:
Coming from the similiar CoC backround as you Brent, I too have found myself somewhat "dry" because of the worship I have experienced most of my life. You use the metaphor of meat and I like that. I use that of water because I seem to want to tap into those deep streams of living water that have been passed down to us.
I get a little concerned with what is being sold (or rather marketed) as christianity in pop culture. It is missing the depth and connection to these streams.
I too am looking for a spiritual home that will put more "fat" in worship and daily piety. You already know the same word in Hebrew can mean "Glory." The "Fat of God" kind of speaks to it, doesn't it?
I have noticed, in my pastoral ministry to persons in medical settings, that those who have a more liturgical faith sometimes have an easier go of things. What I mean is that ritual goes deep into our being and in crisis moments allows quicker access to that place of grounding and peace. Saying a Hail Mary with a Catholic. Saying Our Father with a most any Protestant. These things go deep. The closest I can really understand (since I grew up with neither of these rituals) is with some of the Stamps Baxter hymns that I have sang 1000's of times.
In an age that people find themselves so dis-intergrated, I wish the move in popular christian worship was more intentionally liturgical. Ritual helps bring all the parts of our lives together into one. It grounds us, within and with others.
So there is a bit of my despair, but I see so much interest in spirituality in our world today. Our current generation seems to know that we need something beyond ourselves. Heck, Madonna is into Jewish mysticism, so is Rosanne, I think.
And even the religious right, no matter how misguided, seems to realize that now is a time to take action in favor of spirituality.
May God bless you journey. May you find the fat you are looking for.
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