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De Facto Liturgy
For many of us there are aspects without which worship on any given Sunday would not seem complete: communion, or a confession of sin, or the creed, or the Lord’s prayer. A certain liturgical standard applies and in many cases has been actively cultivated in public piety. But there are other liturgical standards that arise more organically and end up being more rigidly required, in actual practice. For instance, imagine this: telling your congregation that there will absolutely not be any singing of “Silent Night” this Christmas Eve...
For many of us there are aspects without which worship on any given Sunday would not seem complete: communion, or a confession of sin, or the creed, or the Lord’s prayer. A certain liturgical standard applies and in many cases has been actively cultivated in public piety.
But there are other liturgical standards that arise more organically and end up being more rigidly required, in actual practice. For instance, imagine this: telling your congregation that there will absolutely not be any singing of “Silent Night” this Christmas Eve, much less any lighting of candles and dripping wax all over the pew cushions. Would anyone even show up? (I would, personally. But I’d be lonely.)
For me, Holy Week has its set of unwritten liturgical canons. Christ does not arrive successfully in the Jerusalem of my heart without “All Glory, Laud, and Honor” to usher him in. My sins cannot be fully repented of on Good Friday without “Ah, Holy Jesus,” especially the bitter pill of the line “I crucified thee.” And the tomb is not really empty unless “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” blasts it out of the way along with angels.
My de facto liturgy is mainly musical, but there are other kinds. American Lutheran parishes would undoubtedly be suspicious of a Christmas without poinsettias and an Easter without lilies. It is quite likely that some parishes still struggle to excise the patriotic liturgies on Sundays falling near Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Veterans' Day. Most congregations have their own local liturgical canons that are broken only with fear and trembling by the local authorities. These kinds of things aren’t necessary, and usually are not bad in and of themselves, but they do take on a life of their own. And they often are emblematic of the differing liturgical ideals of clergy and laity.
I’m curious about local liturgical requirements. Please comment here if you have any to share.
Liturgical Sacred Cows
There are, of course, some sacred cows. Silent Night by candlelight on Christmas Eve is one of them. The first Christmas Eve service is "The Children's Service," at which I had a small skirmish to emphasize that I would preach to adults at this service. It was the same at my last parish, also.
Probably the most continuing running issue has been over children's sermons. This was an invention of the 1970s, which I at first welcomed. Over the years, my view of it has dimmed. At best, they are good occasions for actually making a point to adults, or doing a piece for the children on the Small Catechism. At worst, children's sermons are childish sermons, frequently taking up far too much time, detracting from the rest of the service. But congregation anxiety about youth as the future of the church often expresses itself in a way that children's sermons become the satis est of true Christian worship.
it's in the contract
We also didn’t have ashes on Ash Wednesday. We had, instead, individual absolution. It was one of the most moving services I have ever attended, perhaps especially because it was so very different from other such services.
I think there might often be reasons to break the tradition.
On the other hand, “I crucified thee” – there really is nothing like it. I don’t know whether to squirm or nod. So I do both.