So, the humor of me owning a copy of the Book of Common Prayer, an app for the Daily Office and just buying a book on Smells and Bells, The Power of Liturgy, is not completely lost on me. Most of my friends, (even the more liturgical ones), scratch their heads a bit at my obsession.
I didn’t grow up in a liturgical tradition. I grew up in a more revivalist, evangelical kind of place. And growing up, I have to admit that even the Methodist church frightened me. I couldn’t figure out the simplest liturgies. I doubt the irony of my being married to a fourth generation (is there such a thing?) is not lost on God. The first time I ever attended a Roman Catholic Church I was so confused, I walked out the back door when Mass began. The kneeler was just way too stressful for me and I thought it might be the invitation and it seemed a good time to leave. And I was completely stressed out by learning to cross myself properly. It was way too challenging for me to master.
Somewhere I was taught that being around liturgy was bad for the real Christian and we didn’t need printed prayers. I grew up around Christians who thought that liturgical churches were full of dead, Sunday only Christians too bound tradition to ever experience the Holy Spirit or even see a real, honest miracle and people didn’t get saved in liturgical churches. It never occurred to me until I was much older that I really never understood exactly what we were being saved from much less that salvation is not a moment in time but rather a life long process. And if Jesus saves us from anything, it usually is ourselves. It ourselves that are the real danger, not Hell.
My sister in law and I still laugh about the wedding we attended together when we were both about 7 months pregnant. It was about 4 in the afternoon, the family was traveling in a herd again and we didn’t stop for lunch on the two-hour car ride to the church. When, the minister announced that they were offering an altar call (at this wedding), I leaned over and said, “I think I better just run down front and let him save me again, if I ever plan on eating tonight. He’s not stopping till he saves someone and it might as well be me.” On that particular day, Jesus was saving me and everyone in my family from one of my typical pregnant emotional meltdowns. True story. Promise, cross my heart. Just ask Kristen.
To be honest, I am utterly grateful that Cranmer penned prayers wiser than my own. And I am not sure how the concept that the Book of Psalms was Jesus’ prayer book got lost in the middle of revivalism, but it did.
The predictability of liturgy is home to me now. Today, I will break out in hives and begin hyperventilating when ministers start winging it and talking about what God has laid on their hearts. I also want to run out the back door if the sermon is not centered on at least one of the passages from the lectionary and I am one of those OCD types who know what the lectionary passage is before I get to church on Sunday morning. I think Davis still might believe that I am just incredibly good a guessing what scripture they might be reading at church on any given Sunday. Not seeing the appropriate liturgical colors being used will kind of drive me insane and I prefer the date to be listed in liturgical format.
I quit trying to explain myself to people a while back. I have purposefully tried to steer my son away from the things I valued as an evangelical.
I have no idea how the book, The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris wound up in my hands. That was my first exposure to ancient Christian traditions. The extent of my ignorance really can’t be measured. And I learned that much of what I had been taught in my fundamentalist tradition about church history was quite simply not truthful. Reading that book began a journey. The Christian liturgical calendar outlines the story of redemption. Liturgy gave me an appreciation for the Bible a source of worship and depth that was lacking in my faith roots. The Book of Common Prayer with its Collects, Responses, and Psalms are the bonds that have held the Church together through history and across denominations. The confessions, the creeds, the saints, the martyrs, and the liturgical year: it is all One, Holy, Apostolic Church. And apparently I was part of that too, even though I had been taught that only the extemporaneous prayers please God.
So, what do I love about high church?
I love the Church year. I love keeping time with the history of Redemption. Advent, Epiphany, Trinity Sunday, Ash Wednesday, Lent, Holy Week, Pentecost, and even Ordinary Time- all these days teach us again and again and again our place in The Story.
To remember and participate in the Gospel Narrative artistically and visually is invaluable. And singing theology…well…words fail me , I know, shocking isn’t it? Even if the sermon is repeatedly terrible, in the liturgical tradition, a great deal of scripture is still spoken aloud each Sunday. And the lectionary can keep us from our own agendas. And the good Lord knows we need that….how we need to keep away from our agendas….
There is something powerful about standing around in a group every Sunday confessing out loud to God that we really all are a bunch of failures who are in need of grace. Saying the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, all declare how utterly dependent we are on the grace of God.
I love a lot of things. I love the use of architecture and beauty to glorify God. I love the sense of history. I love that some creeds have survived centuries. I love the centrality of the Sacraments. I love that they think there are Sacraments and they are not to be neglected.
And I understand the things that are not loved. It is not user friendly. It can be empty, insincere, and elitist. It can go over the heads of some people. It is demanding and it requires practice. It is not for the easily bored or lazy or the wandering mind. And do I ever have a wandering mind. But wandering minds really do want to know. They really do.
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