I was interested to hear the leader on my silent retreat say that different approaches to prayer or the spiritual life are like food. Different people like different things.
Such a simple way of expressing a new thought for me. (I had a mental gradation of superior and less-evolved spiritual practices.)
* * *
I intensely dislike liturgy. It triggers memories of the boredom-that –made-me-long-to-scream during the Catholic masses of my childhood; the continual looking at my watch; each part, the Kyrie, the Gloria, the Sanctus, the Agnus Dei , being accompanied with precise mental calculations of the number of minutes left before I left church and walked into fresh-aired rosy dawn.
* * *
For me, liturgy is noise and distraction—more noise and distraction in an already noisy, distracting world. I don’t see the point of repetitively reading out words other men and women have written; (I guess liturgy was written by men.)
I would rather express a halting, impoverished sentiment of my own than a fluent, winged thought someone else has penned. Because that emerged from his heart, not mine. Better a heart-felt stutter than lyricism recited from a printed page.
Also, though I think fast, and talk fast and write fast, and sometimes read fast– I am slow spiritually.
The liturgy has raced on and covered paragraphs while I am still meditating on the first sentence, and applying the airy words and ideas to my own earthbound life. Only connecting.
Nah, not for me.
* * *
It has its uses though. I’ve read that the liturgy was composed to provide a way for men and women who were barely literate to rehearse the bases of the faith in every communal encounter with God, and remind the heart of 360 degrees of truth.
And when my heart is bored, sullen, lumpen, or distracted, stray phrases from the liturgy does awaken and tune it. It expands the emotional range of my heart. Reminds it of things it would not have thought of, and rouses slumbering things in it.
And some liturgies are beautiful. I loved the sung liturgy of the Northumbria community. Yeah, sung liturgy is certainly more bearable. Like Gregorian chant. Or Celtic liturgies.
* * *
However, there are people who love liturgy. I have been in small groups with people who wanted to read out pages and pages of Compline. Oh Lord, have mercy on this poor restless woman’s soul. And it’s rude to whip out your iPhone during small group liturgy. Oh yes, it is!
I used to think that the liturgy was for those at a less advanced stage of the spiritual life. Who needed Cyrano de Bergerac to write their love poetry for them.
But no, I realized each heart is tuned in different ways. Different strokes for different folks. Some like turnips; some like chocolate. Me, I love Green and Black’s Chocolate.
And that must explain why something I find so exasperating speaks to other people. Who even love it.
But liturgy or heart-grunts, either way, oh Lord, tune my heart to sing thy praise.
Question
So do you like liturgy? Which spiritual disciplines work for you? And which do not?
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PS – I am happy to report I can now dance and raise my hands in praise to the Lord without the old discomfort, tho it has taken another 37 years to get here. Maybe the Catholic Liturgy is the backbone of the church – holding erect the less rigid parts of the body?
No doubt temperament, and the first liturgical expressions in which we experienced God have an important part to play. For me, a lot of my early Christian (Roman Catholic) was boring…but I do love many of the old hymns.
Hmm – I was christened and sent to High Anglican as a child – totally bored – so when my parents wouldn’t let me stop going cos I had to take my little sister, I switched to Methodist “cos they had more fun”. 32 years later when I finally emerged from agnosticism to the discovery of Jesus as my Saviour, I was overwhelmed by attending a Pentecostal Church, by the clapping and dancing and being slain in the Spirit, happening all over the place every Sunday. Part of me loved the music, but being stiff-upper -lip British, could only manage to clap my hands as a restrained expression of joy. I went home confused and prayed to the Lord to show me whether this really was of Him, and he led me to 1 Corinthians 12:15-21 – which answered my question very nicely – I think the Pentecostals may be the feet that are dancing, while other denominations are all different parts of the body. Loved it!
Pentecostals are the dancing feet–what a great image!
Yes! Oh, Anita, are we allowed to say that? Because I am here nodding ‘Yes, me too.’
I’ve always felt slightly ashamed of my urge to check my phone during the liturgy – clearly I am not grown-up enough for proper church. But perhaps, you’re saying, it’s like tomatoes; no matter how often I try them, I just don’t like them. People are shocked, ‘What do you mean, you don’t like tomatoes?! Surely not! Everyone likes tomatoes!’ I can manage them on pizza, in small doses, but a plate of tomatoes – no, thank you. And no, even the smallest, sweetest cherry tomatoes do not taste like grapes. You have your tomatoes and enjoy them. Me, I’ll have something else.
So – thank you, Anita. I’m with you.
Lol! Thanks, Helen. Exactly!
I can understand how others might be inclined to find liturgy repetitive and stale. For me it has been astonishing how long it took for me to suddenly discover certain gems of wisdom in a liturgy that I recited or heard for months on end. Also I think liturgies serve to undergird a culture that has been formed around a liturgy. But perhaps the variety we have in our churches and services is as essential to shaping our faith as liturgy has been in Orthodox, Catholic, Anglican, and Lutheran cultures. What is clear is that apart from the Spirit we receive nothing.
Yes. I guess it’s really different strokes for different folks. For me, I am thinking of one gem, while it’s rolled on, and I realise it’s becoming just noise that I am tuning out to focus on that one gem!
“What is clear is that apart from the Spirit we receive nothing.” Indeed!
I too have heard the food analogy, and, y’know what, I don’t buy it. Some food nourishes, some is basically junk and, who wants to eat the same stuff day in and day out? Needless to add, I’m not a liturgy fanboy either; it’s always seemed to me as if it’s like wearing second-hand clothes. Others I know tell me I have to grow up into it.
The alternative is often silence, deafening and aching. It’s easy to sing ‘qui tollis peccata mundi’ and let the musical phrases tickle the senses, but quite another to sit in the darkness, only accompanied by a still, small voice, whispering redemption and grace.
Ironically, being too old for Hillsong, I ‘attend’ a church in Paris which is known for a particularly fine choir, superb organ and solid preaching, but it doesn’t really do anything more than speak to the corners of my faith.
Liturgy has its place. It needs actually to be understood, it’s not for those who know little about it and its history & uses. It needs also to be used in places where there is plenty of other stuff going on spiritually – alongside of more casual and from-the-heart-expressed prayer, great teaching, involvement in outgoing activities whether teenage pilgrimages, children’s crafts, or running a soup kitchen! It should be part of a dynamic whole. (As should those other things, or the body of Christ is trying to walk on one leg, so to speak!)
Liturgy’s not for me–though as I said, different strokes for different folks 🙂
I have to agree. For some, I suppose the monastics, it represents a grounding, setting a pattern for the day, where they can retreat locally into a chapel after a busy day doing something else, and I can see the logic in that. But, for people to get into their car, drive somewhere, park and participate has always seemed so very other-worldly, as if worshipping God can only be properly accompanied by choirs and incense.
I wonder, have you seen the series ‘Call the Midwife’? That seems to me to be quite a good representation of how liturgy might be used constructively.
I struggle with driving places for prayer meetings too. I guess the communal prayer does provide focus, and there’s the “where two or three” thing too.
Nope, I didn’t have TV when growing up in small-town India, and have never got into the habit of watching it. One day perhaps.
Incidentally, I met a friend of yours Philip Lawson J. who goes to my church, who mentioned he has a drink with you when you’re in Oxford. Add us to the list next time 🙂
Oh, how nice. I knew Phil from the 70’s and have stayed more or less in touch since. He used to lead worship – I think he still does; we used to argue about who had the best guitar. His glass engraving is outstanding – have you seen it?
http://www.glassengraver.net
Yes. He engraved a bowl for the man who led the church’s building project. He sometimes leads worship for the evening service which I attend. I like it when he does so.