The Gottesdienst liturgical calendar for 2010 has been posted at the Gottesdienst web site, and will also be an insert in the upcoming Christmas issue.
Check it out, and while you're at it, be sure you have a subscription, or at least toss us a donation to help keep the flame, er, ablaze . . .
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Gracious Movement
I recently read the following description of military decorum from a widely syndicated columnist:
"Think about this for a moment. Suppose that your boss at the lab or law firm or newsroom demanded that, when he entered the room, you leapt spasmodically to your feet, stood rigidly erect with your feet at a forty-five degree angle like a congenitally deformed duck, and stared straight ahead until he gave you permission to relax."
I'll leave criticism of military ceremony to those better versed - but this much is certain: the ceremony of the Church is not supposed to be like this. The movements of the celebrant in the liturgy are not supposed to communicate discipline, rigor, and obedience. Rather, they are to communicate a loving respect, awe, and joy.
Military and liturgical movement are sometimes confused because of certain characteristics they share: uniforms, reverence toward physical objects (ever seen a flag folded?) and men of rank, and artificiality. But these similarities should be generalizations forced upon us - they should not obviously come to mind when someone watches us celebrate.
What I mean is this - liturgical movement should be gracious, rounded, full (but not fulsome), and natural - not mechanical, robotic, rote, angular, sharp, and arbitrary. There is no longer any practical reason for the military to practice parade march with weapons - the tactic is dead and the practice is retained merely for show and the discipline it teaches. Genuflecting, though, is not arbitrary. It is natural. It flows from the nature of what is going on in the service. Therefore the action should be carried out in a natural, not a robotic way.
Liturgical movement is not from the parade ground but from the bedouin tent - the host and guest have roles to play, movements to make, statements that have to be said: and it's all as natural as can be even though it is scripted. The scripted nature of the encounter is the space in which true intimacy can thrive.
How to learn this gracious movement? About the only way is to be privileged to see someone do it right. You'll know it when you see it. The Rev. Dr. James Brauer at St. Louis' chapel always seemed a good example to me. The Rev. Fr. David Fielding of Granite City, IL is another man whose celebration of the Sacrament is a joy to experience.
Seminarians and pastors who wish to improve the felicity of their service at the Lord's Table need more than rubrical guides - they need living examples, they need to find a seasoned "natural" and learn by imitation.
+HRC
"Think about this for a moment. Suppose that your boss at the lab or law firm or newsroom demanded that, when he entered the room, you leapt spasmodically to your feet, stood rigidly erect with your feet at a forty-five degree angle like a congenitally deformed duck, and stared straight ahead until he gave you permission to relax."
I'll leave criticism of military ceremony to those better versed - but this much is certain: the ceremony of the Church is not supposed to be like this. The movements of the celebrant in the liturgy are not supposed to communicate discipline, rigor, and obedience. Rather, they are to communicate a loving respect, awe, and joy.
Military and liturgical movement are sometimes confused because of certain characteristics they share: uniforms, reverence toward physical objects (ever seen a flag folded?) and men of rank, and artificiality. But these similarities should be generalizations forced upon us - they should not obviously come to mind when someone watches us celebrate.
What I mean is this - liturgical movement should be gracious, rounded, full (but not fulsome), and natural - not mechanical, robotic, rote, angular, sharp, and arbitrary. There is no longer any practical reason for the military to practice parade march with weapons - the tactic is dead and the practice is retained merely for show and the discipline it teaches. Genuflecting, though, is not arbitrary. It is natural. It flows from the nature of what is going on in the service. Therefore the action should be carried out in a natural, not a robotic way.
Liturgical movement is not from the parade ground but from the bedouin tent - the host and guest have roles to play, movements to make, statements that have to be said: and it's all as natural as can be even though it is scripted. The scripted nature of the encounter is the space in which true intimacy can thrive.
How to learn this gracious movement? About the only way is to be privileged to see someone do it right. You'll know it when you see it. The Rev. Dr. James Brauer at St. Louis' chapel always seemed a good example to me. The Rev. Fr. David Fielding of Granite City, IL is another man whose celebration of the Sacrament is a joy to experience.
Seminarians and pastors who wish to improve the felicity of their service at the Lord's Table need more than rubrical guides - they need living examples, they need to find a seasoned "natural" and learn by imitation.
+HRC
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Liturgical Etymology I
Ed. note: Along the lines of Fr. Eckardt's Why? booklet explaining the parts of the liturgy, the Gottesdienst Online editors will be posting, in serialized fashion, explanations of words related to Christian worship - especially those of obscure derivation.
Host
Once the wafer or loaf has been consecrated in a celebration of the Lord's Supper it is referred to as the host (beforehand it is altar bread, or simply bread). This term can be confusing to modern ears - perhaps calling to mind the relationship between parasite and host: as if the bread "plays host" to the Body of Christ; as if it were infected with the Body of our Lord.
In reality the latter usage (about host and parasite) derives from Latin hospes (guest-friend; Greek
Obviously, the development of host from hostia in the Latin speaking West is entangled with Medieval theories of the Mass as a sacrifice offered up by the priest. Nevertheless, the term has widespread use in Lutheran liturgical books down to the present day. Therefore, an evangelical understanding should be given to the term: what was once and for all sacrificed at Calvary is in reality upon the paten and in the mouths of all who receive this host. Indeed, an even stronger usage displayed in many Lutheran liturgical books (E.g. LSB p. 199) follows the example of the Small Catechism in simply referring to the host solely as the body of Christ.
+HRC
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Heart of the Matter
It seems simple enough in retrospect, but it was one of those light-bulb moments this past week, which has made something rather obvious to me now.
I had the opportunity to share a pleasant and productive conversation with an older colleague for a couple hours, which dealt generally with worship matters and managed to meander here and there. Personal conversations that actually take place in person have a way of doing that, and it's great. It means that one has the chance to discover things he wasn't even looking for. That was sure enough the case for me on this recent occasion.
I've insisted for years now that the so-called "worship wars" are missing the mark in the way they usually focus on differences in style or form. That misses the mark, not because style and form are unimportant or inconsequential, but because those outward practices express and embody something deeper and more fundamental. The differences in worship practice, including notable differences in style and form, derive from a different impetus and spirit; they are driven by a different engine, running on a different sort of fuel. So I'm always attempting to begin the conversation at that underlying point, in the hopes of running from the heart of the matter to the life of the body.
So, then, in trying to distinguish what I understand by the adjective, "liturgical," I had in mind two primary examples: Liturgical "worship" is founded and formed, structured and styled, guided and governed by (a) the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, to and from Holy Baptism, to and from the Holy Communion; and (b) the centrality of the Holy Communion as the beating heart of the Church's life. These two key poles are not simply checkpoints to be included in the course of what otherwise goes on, but they are actually the definitive givens of Christ, upon which everything else depends and hinges. Preaching may be biblically conservative, but if it isn't preaching repentance for the forgiveness of sins, to and from the font, to and from the altar, then it isn't "liturgical." And that, I warrant, is unfortunate. Likewise, talking about the "Word and Sacrament," and referencing "Word and Sacrament ministry and missions," without the regular celebration of the Lord's Supper as the norm, is a slogan and a cliché, but it is not yet liturgical.
Anyway, those are the two points that I was aiming at in the course of conversation, when a slightly different (though related) second point emerged; which then proved quite enlightening.
My colleague mentioned such practices as the elevation of the Sacrament, and genuflecting, and in particular the use of a tabernacle, as examples of question and concern. I'm not a big fan of tabernacles, with due respect for my friend and colleague, Father Eckardt, but I do genuflect and elevate the Sacrament. I've had discussions of these several ceremonies often enough, and I would not have expected to plow any new ground on these points. But I wonder if those frequent conversations haven't been missing the real point at hand; a point which Father Eckardt has noted in the past.
Here is what made the discussion so significant: My colleague noted that these practices imply or suggest that the Body and Blood of Christ are actually present prior to and apart from the eating and drinking of the Sacrament. Yes, I know, the Gottesdienst Editors have had this discussion before. But this observation brought things precisely to a head. When I affirmed that, indeed, it is my belief, my teaching, and my confession that the Body and Blood of Christ are present with the speaking of the Verba Domini, there was then a clarity to our conversation that was both refreshing and helpful. I believe that was the case for both of us.
It seems to me that, when it comes right down to it, everything the Gottesdienst Editors contend for, and all of our objections to other sorts of practice, are aimed at reverence and respect for the Body and Blood of Christ. If "the Word comes to the element, and it is a Sacrament," and if the Sacrament "is the true Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ," then that is going to affect the way we act, the way we conduct ourselves, the way that we handle such sacred elements, before, during and after the distribution of the Holy Communion.
If that true heart of the matter is not realized or comprehended, then it is finally not possible to understand Gottesdienst; and by that I mean, not only the editors and their enterprises, but, more importantly, the Liturgy of the Divine Service. The Sacrament is the beating heart and center that unites us in our common confession and fellowship, and the very thing in which we are agreed even where and when we sometimes disagree amongst ourselves when it comes to the particulars of practice. We are bound together in the Body of Christ, by the Body of Christ; that is what enlivens us, nourishes us, and moves us to contend for whatever serves the worship of Christ in both soul and body.
Christ is not present in the Sacrament to be served by us, but to serve us Christians with His Body and His Blood. Nevertheless, wherever Christ is present, the Christian longs to serve Him in love, to wash His feet and dry them, to worship Him who is the Glory of God enfleshed and in Person. Our Lord would have His disciples eat His Body and drink His Blood, and the Ministry of the Gospel serves that holy purpose. But, again, the conduct of that Service cannot help but be affected by the very fact of the matter, that it is the Body and Blood of Christ that are being handled, given, received and consumed. When we object to irreverence and a lack of decorum, it is not because we are prudes, but because we fear, love and trust in Christ our God. When we contend for ceremonies that may seem extravagant, it is not ostentation, but for the worship of Christ in His Body with our bodies; not out of necessity, but out of fear, love and trust in Him.
It has probably been obvious to my fellow editors all along, but this observation has given me a clarity of understanding that I did not previously have. It gets to the heart of the matter, and, in doing so, it gets to the heart of the so-called "worship wars." There may be skirmishes over style, and battles over form, but the war is about the Body of Christ. Call it consecrationism vs. receptionism, but don't let any labels distract from what is really under discussion. Were we able to reach agreement in our confession of the Body of Christ, at His Word, than I believe that many of our differences in practice would be readily resolved in one way or another. But apart from that conversation and confession, no amount of uniformity in outward practice will yet amount to the inner unity of genuine fellowship.
I had the opportunity to share a pleasant and productive conversation with an older colleague for a couple hours, which dealt generally with worship matters and managed to meander here and there. Personal conversations that actually take place in person have a way of doing that, and it's great. It means that one has the chance to discover things he wasn't even looking for. That was sure enough the case for me on this recent occasion.
I've insisted for years now that the so-called "worship wars" are missing the mark in the way they usually focus on differences in style or form. That misses the mark, not because style and form are unimportant or inconsequential, but because those outward practices express and embody something deeper and more fundamental. The differences in worship practice, including notable differences in style and form, derive from a different impetus and spirit; they are driven by a different engine, running on a different sort of fuel. So I'm always attempting to begin the conversation at that underlying point, in the hopes of running from the heart of the matter to the life of the body.
So, then, in trying to distinguish what I understand by the adjective, "liturgical," I had in mind two primary examples: Liturgical "worship" is founded and formed, structured and styled, guided and governed by (a) the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, to and from Holy Baptism, to and from the Holy Communion; and (b) the centrality of the Holy Communion as the beating heart of the Church's life. These two key poles are not simply checkpoints to be included in the course of what otherwise goes on, but they are actually the definitive givens of Christ, upon which everything else depends and hinges. Preaching may be biblically conservative, but if it isn't preaching repentance for the forgiveness of sins, to and from the font, to and from the altar, then it isn't "liturgical." And that, I warrant, is unfortunate. Likewise, talking about the "Word and Sacrament," and referencing "Word and Sacrament ministry and missions," without the regular celebration of the Lord's Supper as the norm, is a slogan and a cliché, but it is not yet liturgical.
Anyway, those are the two points that I was aiming at in the course of conversation, when a slightly different (though related) second point emerged; which then proved quite enlightening.
My colleague mentioned such practices as the elevation of the Sacrament, and genuflecting, and in particular the use of a tabernacle, as examples of question and concern. I'm not a big fan of tabernacles, with due respect for my friend and colleague, Father Eckardt, but I do genuflect and elevate the Sacrament. I've had discussions of these several ceremonies often enough, and I would not have expected to plow any new ground on these points. But I wonder if those frequent conversations haven't been missing the real point at hand; a point which Father Eckardt has noted in the past.
Here is what made the discussion so significant: My colleague noted that these practices imply or suggest that the Body and Blood of Christ are actually present prior to and apart from the eating and drinking of the Sacrament. Yes, I know, the Gottesdienst Editors have had this discussion before. But this observation brought things precisely to a head. When I affirmed that, indeed, it is my belief, my teaching, and my confession that the Body and Blood of Christ are present with the speaking of the Verba Domini, there was then a clarity to our conversation that was both refreshing and helpful. I believe that was the case for both of us.
It seems to me that, when it comes right down to it, everything the Gottesdienst Editors contend for, and all of our objections to other sorts of practice, are aimed at reverence and respect for the Body and Blood of Christ. If "the Word comes to the element, and it is a Sacrament," and if the Sacrament "is the true Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ," then that is going to affect the way we act, the way we conduct ourselves, the way that we handle such sacred elements, before, during and after the distribution of the Holy Communion.
If that true heart of the matter is not realized or comprehended, then it is finally not possible to understand Gottesdienst; and by that I mean, not only the editors and their enterprises, but, more importantly, the Liturgy of the Divine Service. The Sacrament is the beating heart and center that unites us in our common confession and fellowship, and the very thing in which we are agreed even where and when we sometimes disagree amongst ourselves when it comes to the particulars of practice. We are bound together in the Body of Christ, by the Body of Christ; that is what enlivens us, nourishes us, and moves us to contend for whatever serves the worship of Christ in both soul and body.
Christ is not present in the Sacrament to be served by us, but to serve us Christians with His Body and His Blood. Nevertheless, wherever Christ is present, the Christian longs to serve Him in love, to wash His feet and dry them, to worship Him who is the Glory of God enfleshed and in Person. Our Lord would have His disciples eat His Body and drink His Blood, and the Ministry of the Gospel serves that holy purpose. But, again, the conduct of that Service cannot help but be affected by the very fact of the matter, that it is the Body and Blood of Christ that are being handled, given, received and consumed. When we object to irreverence and a lack of decorum, it is not because we are prudes, but because we fear, love and trust in Christ our God. When we contend for ceremonies that may seem extravagant, it is not ostentation, but for the worship of Christ in His Body with our bodies; not out of necessity, but out of fear, love and trust in Him.
It has probably been obvious to my fellow editors all along, but this observation has given me a clarity of understanding that I did not previously have. It gets to the heart of the matter, and, in doing so, it gets to the heart of the so-called "worship wars." There may be skirmishes over style, and battles over form, but the war is about the Body of Christ. Call it consecrationism vs. receptionism, but don't let any labels distract from what is really under discussion. Were we able to reach agreement in our confession of the Body of Christ, at His Word, than I believe that many of our differences in practice would be readily resolved in one way or another. But apart from that conversation and confession, no amount of uniformity in outward practice will yet amount to the inner unity of genuine fellowship.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Non sum dignus.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The Sermon as Love Song
At the Symposium on Catechesis this past June in Sussex, Wisconsin, the Rev. Dr. Richard Stuckwisch , Gotteseditor, made some observations about what he wanted in the sermons heard by his grown children who are now married and living in other states. I find this to often be the case: Stuckwisch speaks and I think it about it for months.
What I remember is that he said he wanted his children in parishes that enjoyed liturgical preaching. I asked him what that meant, what is "liturgical preaching?" He said something like: "Liturgical preaching is lectionary-based, tied closely to the church year, and aware of its surroundings in the liturgy. It consciously and deliberately leads to the Altar."
His emphasis was on preaching's connection to the Sacrament. But I think his answer could have been summed up with "aware of its surroundings." What surrounds the sermon is the liturgy and that upon which the liturgy centers on and to what it always leads is the Holy Communion. I am not claiming his emphasis was off, just suggesting that sometimes think of the liturgy, preaching, and the Sacrament as separate things. What Stuckwisch helped me see better, was that connection.
The Service God provides (hence the German Gottesdienst and the English "Divine Service") to His people is the ultimate reconciliation, His re-communion with them, His entrance into their hearts by way of their mouths, which cleanses their lips and enables them once more to sing His praise and thereby expose what is now, by grace, by the Holy Communion, in their hearts. For it is what comes out of a man that renders him unclean or cleanses him. If we were to be crass (and since when has the Gottesdienst Crowd ever shied away from being crass?) we might say that the Holy Communion is make-up sex.
What then is the sermon? The sermon is the pledge reconciliation, the refusal to let the sun go down on one's anger. The Law is needed, for the beloved needs to know her crimes and how she has endangered Love. She needs to repent. But the conclusion is foregone. The sermon never serves divorce papers. The crimes are repeated, the beloved is exposed, but this not in malice but for edification, that she would learn, that she would grow. And what does she learn? Perhaps she learns something of what her behavior should be, of what her love for the Lover should look like, but mainly she learns how great, steadfast, and compassionate is the Love of Him who loves here perfectly and without end.
The sermon plays a central role in the context of the liturgy. For it takes the Word of God, Law and Gospel, from Propers and Ordinaries, and applies them to the specifics of the case at hand, that the Bride might enter again into the Altar of the Bridal Chamber for the consummation.
That this role, preaching the Lover's words of hurt and of reconciliation to the Beloved in preparation for intimacy, would be played by a mere mortal, given over to some degree to his art and craft, is deeply humbling. So also it is mystical. The Lord works through His men, according to His promise. This is why only those called and ordained should preach. To have a layman preach is like sending your daughter to tell your wife that you'd like her to wear the negligee tonight. It isn't proper.
What I remember is that he said he wanted his children in parishes that enjoyed liturgical preaching. I asked him what that meant, what is "liturgical preaching?" He said something like: "Liturgical preaching is lectionary-based, tied closely to the church year, and aware of its surroundings in the liturgy. It consciously and deliberately leads to the Altar."
His emphasis was on preaching's connection to the Sacrament. But I think his answer could have been summed up with "aware of its surroundings." What surrounds the sermon is the liturgy and that upon which the liturgy centers on and to what it always leads is the Holy Communion. I am not claiming his emphasis was off, just suggesting that sometimes think of the liturgy, preaching, and the Sacrament as separate things. What Stuckwisch helped me see better, was that connection.
The Service God provides (hence the German Gottesdienst and the English "Divine Service") to His people is the ultimate reconciliation, His re-communion with them, His entrance into their hearts by way of their mouths, which cleanses their lips and enables them once more to sing His praise and thereby expose what is now, by grace, by the Holy Communion, in their hearts. For it is what comes out of a man that renders him unclean or cleanses him. If we were to be crass (and since when has the Gottesdienst Crowd ever shied away from being crass?) we might say that the Holy Communion is make-up sex.
What then is the sermon? The sermon is the pledge reconciliation, the refusal to let the sun go down on one's anger. The Law is needed, for the beloved needs to know her crimes and how she has endangered Love. She needs to repent. But the conclusion is foregone. The sermon never serves divorce papers. The crimes are repeated, the beloved is exposed, but this not in malice but for edification, that she would learn, that she would grow. And what does she learn? Perhaps she learns something of what her behavior should be, of what her love for the Lover should look like, but mainly she learns how great, steadfast, and compassionate is the Love of Him who loves here perfectly and without end.
The sermon plays a central role in the context of the liturgy. For it takes the Word of God, Law and Gospel, from Propers and Ordinaries, and applies them to the specifics of the case at hand, that the Bride might enter again into the Altar of the Bridal Chamber for the consummation.
That this role, preaching the Lover's words of hurt and of reconciliation to the Beloved in preparation for intimacy, would be played by a mere mortal, given over to some degree to his art and craft, is deeply humbling. So also it is mystical. The Lord works through His men, according to His promise. This is why only those called and ordained should preach. To have a layman preach is like sending your daughter to tell your wife that you'd like her to wear the negligee tonight. It isn't proper.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Pope Finally Accepts AC VII
Or something like that. Recent news that the Vatican is opening a wide door to Anglicans dissatisfied with the crumbling of historic Christianity in that communion includes this paragraph:
Compare AC VII.2-4: "And to the true unity of the Church it is enough to agree concerning the doctrine of the Gospel and the administration of the Sacraments. Nor is it necessary that human traditions, that is, rites or ceremonies, instituted by men, should be everywhere alike. As Paul says: One faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all, etc. Eph. 4:5-6."
At this point I think we Lutherans are supposed to insert the traditional mea culpa to the effect that "isn't it too bad that the Anglicans looked to Rome instead of to Wittenberg. . . " And there is some merit there. The Lutheran relationship with Anglicanism showed promise in the 16th century and there is much that we share.
However, the Anglicans were never coming our way. As today's news shows, what animates Anglicanism (at least in its High Church as opposed to Low, Broad, and Evangelical branches) is a doctrine of the ministry identical to Rome's: specifically, the theory that one can give only part of the Apostolic Office to some men (priests and deacons) while passing it on wholly to others (bishops). That's just not what the Treatise teaches - nor, if you ask me, what the Scriptures teach (and here AC Piepkorn's article really is a must read).
This is also one important reason why no such door is likely to be held open for dissastisfied Lutherans in the near-Anglican LWF communions. Lutheranism has always been more about Justification, Church, and Ministry - that is doctrine - while Anglicanism's confused political history has always meant that it was less so.
All the same - it is a shame what's become of Anglicanism. I can't blame these good folks for wanting out.
+HRC
Preserving Anglican traditions, such as mass rites, adds to the diversity of the Catholic Church, [CDF head Cardinal Levada] said.
"The unity of the church does not require a uniformity that ignores cultural diversity, as the history of Christianity shows," he said. "Moreover, the many diverse traditions present in the Catholic Church today are all rooted in the principle articulated by St. Paul in his letter to the Ephesians: 'There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism."Compare AC VII.2-4: "And to the true unity of the Church it is enough to agree concerning the doctrine of the Gospel and the administration of the Sacraments. Nor is it necessary that human traditions, that is, rites or ceremonies, instituted by men, should be everywhere alike. As Paul says: One faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all, etc. Eph. 4:5-6."
At this point I think we Lutherans are supposed to insert the traditional mea culpa to the effect that "isn't it too bad that the Anglicans looked to Rome instead of to Wittenberg. . . " And there is some merit there. The Lutheran relationship with Anglicanism showed promise in the 16th century and there is much that we share.
However, the Anglicans were never coming our way. As today's news shows, what animates Anglicanism (at least in its High Church as opposed to Low, Broad, and Evangelical branches) is a doctrine of the ministry identical to Rome's: specifically, the theory that one can give only part of the Apostolic Office to some men (priests and deacons) while passing it on wholly to others (bishops). That's just not what the Treatise teaches - nor, if you ask me, what the Scriptures teach (and here AC Piepkorn's article really is a must read).
This is also one important reason why no such door is likely to be held open for dissastisfied Lutherans in the near-Anglican LWF communions. Lutheranism has always been more about Justification, Church, and Ministry - that is doctrine - while Anglicanism's confused political history has always meant that it was less so.
All the same - it is a shame what's become of Anglicanism. I can't blame these good folks for wanting out.
+HRC
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