Why I Love Anglican Worship
A few weeks ago I had the privilege of being the bell ringer here at Nashotah House. This means that I got to ring the warning bells for chapel, the class bells, the Angelus, the altar bells and Michael (the giant bell on campus). The office of bell ringer also comes with additional duties like being the intercessor during Mass each day, lighting the appropriate candles in the chapel, and laying out the proper vestments for the clergy.
I will readily admit that the whole experience was quite intense. I had to be at the chapel 30 minutes early before each service each day in order to get everything set up and I usually had to stay 5-15 minutes afterwards in order to prep for the next day.
Time has become abundantly precious since starting seminary and I have developed a pretty well-oiled routine for daily life. Things are planned down to the minute for most days. They have to be if I am going to keep my head above the water with school and be fully present for my family while I am at home.
The time that it took to be bell ringer threw everything off, though. I was behind all week and will readily admit that more than once my role felt more like a chore than a privilege. Yet, the experience as a whole was utterly amazing and I had a few powerful moments of recollection and reflection that week that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I would like to tell you about one of these moments.
Since I was was ringing the bell while everyone else was in the chapel, I would always came into chapel a bit after things had begun. Once I was in there were other tasks that I had to do as well (like count the attendance). So, I usually couldn't participate in the liturgy until 5-10 minutes into the service.
One night, however, I decided not to participate. I decided, rather, to simply observe and listen (which is a form of participation in and of itself, I suppose). It was the first time after starting seminary that I actually have had the time to simply reflect on my surroundings and what it is that I am able to participate in each and every day.
I was swept up in the moment to the point where it actually brought tears to my eyes. Being here is simply awesome. God is so awesome. Anglicanism is awesome. Anglican worship is awesome. The stark contrast of my former life compared to this present season just hit me so hard. I've never experienced worship like this before.
In an age where people are running to disassociate themselves from institutionalism and denominationalism, I can happily say that I couldn't be more excited to be an Anglican. It is the church that I have been restlessly searching for ever since I was 16 years old. It is home.
Anyways, the weight of the reality of Anglicanism and Anglican worship hit me that evening. I had one of those moments where I thought to myself, "This is so cool that we actually do this and that I get to be a part of this." I thought I would share a few of the thoughts that came to my mind that evening here.
First off, we sing so, so, so much Scripture. Yes, we sing the Scriptures...like, a lot. We don't sing rehashed versions of the Scripture. I don't mean that we mainly sing paraphrases of Scripture in hymns (although we do that too). I mean that we sing the Scriptures. We sing the Psalms, we sing the Canticles (like that of Mary and Zechariah), Here, we even hear the Gospel and Epistle lessons chanted on a weekly basis. Even in the churches and Anglican traditions that don't sing as much as we do in chapel, they are still saying the Psalms, the Biblical Canticles, hearing the readings, etc. Anglican worship is entirely Scripture laden to its core because so much of the liturgy is actually Scripture. Scripture, for us, isn't just used as a mental exercise or for intellectual engagement. It is used as the means to worship the Triune God.
In terms of singing the Psalms specifically:
I have been noticing something subtle happening within me over the course of the last few weeks and I haven't been able to put words or a reason to it until now. My resolve is being firmed and I am acquiring a spiritual grittiness that was very hard to cultivate in my previous church contexts. I realized that whenever you are constantly singing fluffy and feel-goody music in church it is going to be hard (if not impossible) to walk away with anything but a fluffy and feel-goody spirituality. Praying and singing the Psalms is drawing forth something from deep within me. Contrary to much of the music that is in our churches today, the Psalms don't make me want to feel good for Jesus. They make me want to lay down my life for Him. They don't make me want to feel good about myself. They call my preoccupations with myself and my lack of self-awareness into question. They are the battering ram to my pride. They don't let my feelings about God Almighty be the center of the worship service. They actually teach me how to make Him central regardless of how I am feeling. They make me want to laugh at the temptations that come my way. They make me bold in the face of spiritual warfare. They summon me to ascetical striving rather than coddling my self-esteem. Through the Psalms God is providing the spiritual mettle, the ascetical backbone, that I've been in dire need of for so long.
.
Another thing that hit me in a powerful way during my time of reflection is that the entire Trinity is invoked, praised, and revered all throughout the services (after the Psalm readings/chants, at the end of the Canticles, during most of the Collects, at the beginning of the Eucharistic liturgy, and during the blessing, and not to mention in the Creeds). Anglican worship is thoroughly and unapologetically Trinitarian.
For the Anglican, the liturgy itself is not, first and foremost, seen as something that we do. Rather, it is the offering of Christ to the Father in the power of the Holy Spirit. We participate only in that we are Christ's body and that the Father is our Father through Him. Thus, liturgy is about us participating in Christ's worship of the Father. It is about participating in a worship context that preexists us and outshines anything we can offer.
I am not convinced that the majority of Protestantism actually believes in the Trinity anymore. If it does I am certain that the Triune relationship is nothing more than a mere afterthought. The Trinity is a riddle to be solved rather than a divine life and relationship to be participated in.
My question is this: if a person walked in off of the street into your church (or worship context), would they walk away with a clear picture that this is a people who worship the Triune God? Or, would they get more of a Modalistic impression because your services are Jesus centric to the detriment of the Father and the Holy Spirit? Perhaps it is worse, even; that Jesus is barely mentioned and the names within the Godhead are replaced with the generic "God" designation all throughout?
What is said and sung in worship says a lot about the God that you worship (or don't worship). How many of us are Trinitarian in dogma and Sabellianistic in liturgical practice? One can be orthodox in doctrinal statement and still heretical in mindset and practice. I am not sure that wider American Christian culture understands this.
A third thing that hit me that night: Anglican worship is bodily. In some cases it engages all of the senses. There is communion for taste, incense for the nose, icons and vestments for the eyes, singing for the ears, and sermons for the brain, etc. These things don't exist for the sole purpose of engaging the senses or our physicality. Each thing mentioned has a theological significance and symbolism all of its own. Sensory engagement, however, is a very nice bonus and an important one at that. We are embodied creatures, not just intellectual creatures or emotional entities. Using our bodies and not just our minds or emotions in worship makes a difference. It is the recognition that Jesus Christ came into the world to not only redeem parts of the human person but the whole.
The traditions/churches that have no bodily or sensory involvement really need to question how much they understand the Incarnation and how central this Truth really is to them. Not that you have to cross yourself to be Incarnational, but to the one who refuses any physical motions in worship, it really begs the question. Christ came into the world and took on our physicality, and how we bring our physicality back to Him in worship matters. It says something. It means something. Whenever we cross ourselves or bow or kneel in the liturgy we are saying several things in our actions but we are first and foremost saying that Christianity needs to take the body and its actions seriously and that such things are worthy of offering up to God in worship as well (I wrote an article for Conciliar Post about this a while back. Click here to read).
Fourth, Anglicanism doesn't stand or fall or centralize around a personality behind a pulpit. The priest is vested not that he/she will be more noticeable, but less. He is not putting on his persona whenever he gets vested but a tradition that has been around long before him and a tradition that will far outlast him. He doesn't lead the congregation in what he has created but in a tradition that goes all the way back to the earliest days of Christianity.
Side Rant: A guy I once knew once told me that he could never listen to a preacher wearing a collar because it was too distracting for him. I told him that I had a hard time listening to a preacher in a tie because he looks like the man who tries to sell me insurance or every guy that has ever tried to sell me anything ever. Is the business world the best visible icon that needs to be behind the pulpit or should there be imagery there that is set apart from the rest of the world? Perhaps the last thing we want in the pulpit is an image that reminds us of a sales pitch.
All of this does not mean that there is no place for personality within the liturgy for the minister. This comes out plenty in the sermon in particular. It simply means that the priest's personality is not what is taking central stage.
Fifth, Anglican worship is not about individualistic expression but about uniting oneself with Christ's Body, the Church. I mean the actual church...like...the people sitting right next to you in the service. You know, those folks.
One cannot participate in Anglican worship without concentrating on unifying one's self, one's body and voice, with the wider congregation. There are customary times to bow, to kneel, to sing, to read, to cross oneself, and they don't always come at the precise moments whenever you feel like doing them. It is not about acting according to one's impulsive feelings in the moment but about throwing oneself into the liturgical and prayerful rhythms that the Holy Spirit has cultivated in Christ's Body over the course of a couple of millennia.
This is not to say that feelings or emotions don't matter. It means that one's emotions and feelings need to be groomed and properly directed in the context of worship. We don't come to worship in order to worship our own feelings (even though there is plenty of this in the church at large today). We come to worship in order to participate in Christ's offering to the Father as Christ's Body in the power of the Holy Spirit. It is not about us or how we feel. It is about what the Triune God is doing in the midst of our assembly.
To conclude:
I just wanted to share a few of these thoughts with you (whoever you are). I apologize if they were a bit scatter brained. I have been processing a lot lately and it has been a while since I have given myself an outlet. I sort of feel like I did more rambling here than anything else. If you walk away edified or challenged, though, that is great. If my article triggered no reaction, I am ok with that as well. Thanks for reading.
 |
| Behold...Michael |
I will readily admit that the whole experience was quite intense. I had to be at the chapel 30 minutes early before each service each day in order to get everything set up and I usually had to stay 5-15 minutes afterwards in order to prep for the next day.
Time has become abundantly precious since starting seminary and I have developed a pretty well-oiled routine for daily life. Things are planned down to the minute for most days. They have to be if I am going to keep my head above the water with school and be fully present for my family while I am at home.
The time that it took to be bell ringer threw everything off, though. I was behind all week and will readily admit that more than once my role felt more like a chore than a privilege. Yet, the experience as a whole was utterly amazing and I had a few powerful moments of recollection and reflection that week that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I would like to tell you about one of these moments.
Since I was was ringing the bell while everyone else was in the chapel, I would always came into chapel a bit after things had begun. Once I was in there were other tasks that I had to do as well (like count the attendance). So, I usually couldn't participate in the liturgy until 5-10 minutes into the service.
One night, however, I decided not to participate. I decided, rather, to simply observe and listen (which is a form of participation in and of itself, I suppose). It was the first time after starting seminary that I actually have had the time to simply reflect on my surroundings and what it is that I am able to participate in each and every day.
I was swept up in the moment to the point where it actually brought tears to my eyes. Being here is simply awesome. God is so awesome. Anglicanism is awesome. Anglican worship is awesome. The stark contrast of my former life compared to this present season just hit me so hard. I've never experienced worship like this before.
In an age where people are running to disassociate themselves from institutionalism and denominationalism, I can happily say that I couldn't be more excited to be an Anglican. It is the church that I have been restlessly searching for ever since I was 16 years old. It is home.
Anyways, the weight of the reality of Anglicanism and Anglican worship hit me that evening. I had one of those moments where I thought to myself, "This is so cool that we actually do this and that I get to be a part of this." I thought I would share a few of the thoughts that came to my mind that evening here.
First off, we sing so, so, so much Scripture. Yes, we sing the Scriptures...like, a lot. We don't sing rehashed versions of the Scripture. I don't mean that we mainly sing paraphrases of Scripture in hymns (although we do that too). I mean that we sing the Scriptures. We sing the Psalms, we sing the Canticles (like that of Mary and Zechariah), Here, we even hear the Gospel and Epistle lessons chanted on a weekly basis. Even in the churches and Anglican traditions that don't sing as much as we do in chapel, they are still saying the Psalms, the Biblical Canticles, hearing the readings, etc. Anglican worship is entirely Scripture laden to its core because so much of the liturgy is actually Scripture. Scripture, for us, isn't just used as a mental exercise or for intellectual engagement. It is used as the means to worship the Triune God.
In terms of singing the Psalms specifically:
I have been noticing something subtle happening within me over the course of the last few weeks and I haven't been able to put words or a reason to it until now. My resolve is being firmed and I am acquiring a spiritual grittiness that was very hard to cultivate in my previous church contexts. I realized that whenever you are constantly singing fluffy and feel-goody music in church it is going to be hard (if not impossible) to walk away with anything but a fluffy and feel-goody spirituality. Praying and singing the Psalms is drawing forth something from deep within me. Contrary to much of the music that is in our churches today, the Psalms don't make me want to feel good for Jesus. They make me want to lay down my life for Him. They don't make me want to feel good about myself. They call my preoccupations with myself and my lack of self-awareness into question. They are the battering ram to my pride. They don't let my feelings about God Almighty be the center of the worship service. They actually teach me how to make Him central regardless of how I am feeling. They make me want to laugh at the temptations that come my way. They make me bold in the face of spiritual warfare. They summon me to ascetical striving rather than coddling my self-esteem. Through the Psalms God is providing the spiritual mettle, the ascetical backbone, that I've been in dire need of for so long.
.
Another thing that hit me in a powerful way during my time of reflection is that the entire Trinity is invoked, praised, and revered all throughout the services (after the Psalm readings/chants, at the end of the Canticles, during most of the Collects, at the beginning of the Eucharistic liturgy, and during the blessing, and not to mention in the Creeds). Anglican worship is thoroughly and unapologetically Trinitarian.
For the Anglican, the liturgy itself is not, first and foremost, seen as something that we do. Rather, it is the offering of Christ to the Father in the power of the Holy Spirit. We participate only in that we are Christ's body and that the Father is our Father through Him. Thus, liturgy is about us participating in Christ's worship of the Father. It is about participating in a worship context that preexists us and outshines anything we can offer.
I am not convinced that the majority of Protestantism actually believes in the Trinity anymore. If it does I am certain that the Triune relationship is nothing more than a mere afterthought. The Trinity is a riddle to be solved rather than a divine life and relationship to be participated in.
My question is this: if a person walked in off of the street into your church (or worship context), would they walk away with a clear picture that this is a people who worship the Triune God? Or, would they get more of a Modalistic impression because your services are Jesus centric to the detriment of the Father and the Holy Spirit? Perhaps it is worse, even; that Jesus is barely mentioned and the names within the Godhead are replaced with the generic "God" designation all throughout?
What is said and sung in worship says a lot about the God that you worship (or don't worship). How many of us are Trinitarian in dogma and Sabellianistic in liturgical practice? One can be orthodox in doctrinal statement and still heretical in mindset and practice. I am not sure that wider American Christian culture understands this.
A third thing that hit me that night: Anglican worship is bodily. In some cases it engages all of the senses. There is communion for taste, incense for the nose, icons and vestments for the eyes, singing for the ears, and sermons for the brain, etc. These things don't exist for the sole purpose of engaging the senses or our physicality. Each thing mentioned has a theological significance and symbolism all of its own. Sensory engagement, however, is a very nice bonus and an important one at that. We are embodied creatures, not just intellectual creatures or emotional entities. Using our bodies and not just our minds or emotions in worship makes a difference. It is the recognition that Jesus Christ came into the world to not only redeem parts of the human person but the whole.
The traditions/churches that have no bodily or sensory involvement really need to question how much they understand the Incarnation and how central this Truth really is to them. Not that you have to cross yourself to be Incarnational, but to the one who refuses any physical motions in worship, it really begs the question. Christ came into the world and took on our physicality, and how we bring our physicality back to Him in worship matters. It says something. It means something. Whenever we cross ourselves or bow or kneel in the liturgy we are saying several things in our actions but we are first and foremost saying that Christianity needs to take the body and its actions seriously and that such things are worthy of offering up to God in worship as well (I wrote an article for Conciliar Post about this a while back. Click here to read).
Fourth, Anglicanism doesn't stand or fall or centralize around a personality behind a pulpit. The priest is vested not that he/she will be more noticeable, but less. He is not putting on his persona whenever he gets vested but a tradition that has been around long before him and a tradition that will far outlast him. He doesn't lead the congregation in what he has created but in a tradition that goes all the way back to the earliest days of Christianity.
Side Rant: A guy I once knew once told me that he could never listen to a preacher wearing a collar because it was too distracting for him. I told him that I had a hard time listening to a preacher in a tie because he looks like the man who tries to sell me insurance or every guy that has ever tried to sell me anything ever. Is the business world the best visible icon that needs to be behind the pulpit or should there be imagery there that is set apart from the rest of the world? Perhaps the last thing we want in the pulpit is an image that reminds us of a sales pitch.
All of this does not mean that there is no place for personality within the liturgy for the minister. This comes out plenty in the sermon in particular. It simply means that the priest's personality is not what is taking central stage.
Fifth, Anglican worship is not about individualistic expression but about uniting oneself with Christ's Body, the Church. I mean the actual church...like...the people sitting right next to you in the service. You know, those folks.
One cannot participate in Anglican worship without concentrating on unifying one's self, one's body and voice, with the wider congregation. There are customary times to bow, to kneel, to sing, to read, to cross oneself, and they don't always come at the precise moments whenever you feel like doing them. It is not about acting according to one's impulsive feelings in the moment but about throwing oneself into the liturgical and prayerful rhythms that the Holy Spirit has cultivated in Christ's Body over the course of a couple of millennia.
This is not to say that feelings or emotions don't matter. It means that one's emotions and feelings need to be groomed and properly directed in the context of worship. We don't come to worship in order to worship our own feelings (even though there is plenty of this in the church at large today). We come to worship in order to participate in Christ's offering to the Father as Christ's Body in the power of the Holy Spirit. It is not about us or how we feel. It is about what the Triune God is doing in the midst of our assembly.
To conclude:
I just wanted to share a few of these thoughts with you (whoever you are). I apologize if they were a bit scatter brained. I have been processing a lot lately and it has been a while since I have given myself an outlet. I sort of feel like I did more rambling here than anything else. If you walk away edified or challenged, though, that is great. If my article triggered no reaction, I am ok with that as well. Thanks for reading.
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