 |
|
    |
 |
||
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A long-ago abbot whose name I've forgotten urged his monks in a Christmas sermon to "let Christ become immense within you." I think that's what we are doing in the liturgy—we're letting Christ become immense within us, and we are living as the risen body of the risen Christ, an Easter people, immense in the world. That's the hope. The actuality, how we live that out as church, falls short. But in planning liturgy we are dealing with these ultimate things, because in the liturgy we are daring to approach the immensity of God's intent and desire for us and for the world, from before the foundation of the world. We're approaching the wonder of God's self-giving and suffering in Christ. We're approaching the joy and agony of God's kingdom coming into being within us, within our hearts, and the making of us into a great-hearted, compassionate, self-offering, self-expending body for the sake of the world. We are not engaged in church growth—in being attractive for the purpose of increasing our numbers or bringing in the unchurched. If we do our liturgy authentically, we will be attractive for Christ. But liturgy as church growth tool is not what we are about. We are about worship. If this is what God and we and the liturgy are all about, then our liturgy is worthy of and demands our most careful thought, our highest intentionality, our deepest prayer, our greatest gifts, a constant mindfulness, and, I think, a certain restraint and discipline. One's own personal discipline, the discipline of the tradition, the discipline of communal practice, the discipline of seeking excellence, the discipline of being prophetic, the discipline of humbling oneself in the face of the ultimate. So planning liturgy asks for a kind of resistance to the sudden whims and enthusiasms that so often afflict us today. It calls for a seriousness of purpose that comes from a deep attentiveness and response to God's Spirit. Often whimsical things are imposed on the liturgy in an attempt to suggest that this is God's Spirit moving among us. God's Spirit, however, moves over the deep, and draws out of the deep great, indeed ultimate, things. God's spirit doesn't seem to be able to do a whole lot with the shallows; so we're into deep, deep endeavors, we're moving in deep water, when we engage the liturgy. In my liturgical ministry, I try to stay grounded in three things: the hospitality of Christ, who invited everyone he encountered into intimacy with him, and through him with the Father; the servanthood of Christ, who humbly knelt and washed his disciples' road-weary, dirty feet; the self-offering of Christ, who poured out and pours out his life, in his living and dying and rising, for the life of the world. Hospitality—planning liturgy is about being invitational, not forcing, being hospitable to all who gather, including the God who comes among us. I'm not much for the liturgist who, through lack of preparation, carelessness, or a need for control doesn't share the liturgical plan with others, so that everyone else must be directed as the liturgy unfolds. Thoughtful, transparent liturgy ensures that all ministers of the liturgy feel at home in their ministry, and by all ministers I mean the entire assembly, only some of whom are assigned to do specific liturgical tasks on that specific day. Everyone, as a minister of the liturgy, needs to be at ease and comfortable and able to "own" his or her own participation in the liturgy. Will I, through my planning, open that door, or keep it locked, clutching the keys to myself? |
||||||
 |
||||||
|
Academics | Admissions | Alumni | Works | Listen | Look | Contact | Index | Home | Yale University
|