Coconut Press Article 2: Liturgical Precision

As well as being the founder of the Church of the South Pacific, I’m currently a member of the Church of England in real life, a Protestant denomination which embraces aspects of both the Catholic tradition and that of the Reformed churches, varying considerably from congregation to congregation and, sometimes, holding them in tension. I recently had the pleasure of visiting some of the different CofE churches in my town and went from one Anglo-Catholic church with processions, plainsong and a smoking censer to another that took place entirely in the church hall and had about as informal a service as I’ve ever experienced. One element which is both had in common, however, and which is almost universal in the Church of England, is the use of liturgy.

Liturgy, if you’re unfamiliar, is defined as ‘a form or formulary according to which public religious worship, especially Christian worship, is conducted.’ Basically, it’s a set of words through which the vicar leads the congregation, covering all sorts of things like prayer, confession, profession of faith and Holy Communion. It is an essential part of both Roman Catholic and Orthodox worship, but in the Reformed tradition it is much more rare, with many denominations eschewing it entirely and others merely paddling in the pool of potential forms.

For myself, I grew up largely unchurched, coming from a nominally Protestant family*. I say largely, because Christain stories and teaching were still kinda a part of my primary education, but I didn't treat them as more than just stories. Once I became a Christian (aged 11 - a story for another article, perhaps?), I still didn't go to church because there was no one to go with me, but as an older teen I became involved in a Christian youth group at a Presbyterian church, where liturgy was all but unheard of. All my prior church experiences were Presbyterian, too and once I moved away to Scotland to go to uni, apart from a brief dalliance in a Baptist church (another non-liturgical denomination) I ended up at a Presbyterian church there also.

Presbyterian churches can vary a fair bit, but they usually have a fairly stripped-down style of worship with no liturgy and a strong focus on prayer and teaching (often in the form of lengthy sermons), especially amongst Evangelicals. Despite having been baptised in the Church of England as a baby, my first conscious experience of it, then, was when I visited my now-wife's hometown (where I now live) and experienced Sunday worship in her home church. For many reasons I was absolutely terrified, but the liturgy was a major part of that.

I wrote a haiku about my feelings about liturgy during one of these visits. Here it is in all it's unrefined glory:

God is found, I think,
Not in fixed words or refrains
But in the silence.

As you can see, I was skeptical about both the intent of liturgy and its effectiveness. At the time, for me, an authentic experience of God was all about finding your own words and talking to Him naturally. The fixed patterns of liturgy seemed both too restrictive and too forced, turning worshippers into robots and eradicating the Spirit of God from proceedings. Though we made many visits south during our courtship and marriage over the next decade and a bit, I don't think my opinion of liturgy changed all that much.

But then, in the last couple of years before we moved, I found my ideas on Christianity evolving. I still considered myself to be a kind of Evangelical (a general term for Christians who hold that the Bible is, in its entirety, the inspired word of God), but I was also increasingly liberal in how I approached that and in my outlook on life in general. One of the side effects of this was being more open to other ways of doing church. I was certainly never the kind of Christian who dismissed other views outright, but, equally, I was very protective of the kind of experiences that would affect me personally. But now, suddenly, I found myself opening up to different Christian experiences with greater ease than ever before.

Once we moved, we settled into a Church of England church which was as we had expected, given my wife's past and the fact that both her parents were now CofE vicars. What we didn't expect, however, was that, rather than going to the bit, clearly Evangelical town centre church which had been my wife's home church when she was younger, we settled at a small village church at the edge of town which, despite having an Evangelical vicar, was a church filled with a broad range of views on and knowledge of the faith. And boy did it feel liberating!

Don't get me wrong; I loved my church in Scotland and still do, but there was something about this different kind of church that I found freeing and it is one of the reasons why, after years of saying I could never go into full time church ministry, I'm now looking to see if I can get ordained in the Church of England, but, of course, that would require a very different approach to the liturgy which is so common in CofE worship, wouldn't it?

Lucky, then, that I have come to appreciate liturgy for exactly the same reasons my wife has always loved it. The form of words serves as a way of focussing the mind on the aspects of God being spoken of or appealed to. At worst, it is indeed a fairly mindless experience, but one which still means you are engaging with the divine, even if you don't feel it. It is habit-forming and habits can be an important part of spiritual discipline. At best, liturgy is a well-trodden path, sometimes comfortable, sometimes disturbing to somewhere you long to reach and from which you can snatch vistas of incredible grandeur.

I haven't just adapted to liturgy as part of regular Sunday worship, however, but have moved to include it in all aspects of my spiritual life, even going so far as to use the ancient offices of Morning and Night Prayer, in whole or in part, as a regular part of my prayer time with God. Here, liturgy reminds me of the majesty of God, the holiness of His presence, the privilege of spending time with Him. It forms a habit it is harder to break than any more informal prayer structure and, for once who struggles with anxiety like I do, it can also help one to reach the kind of meditative calm that is so important to enduring the rest of life.

Liturgy has gone from being something alien and restrictive to something close to my hear which leaves me feeling more free to worship God in the ways that come most naturally to me. It is a paradox that is hard to explain and, whilst I would argue that there is no substitute for experience, yet I would urge anyone reading this to explore lots of different forms and styles of worship, for we have all been made differently and I don't believe any one tradition is the perfect, one-size-fits-all solution to the world's quest to find and know God. As I continue on my own journey of faith, I look forward to learning more ways to reach out to God and to learn from him.

I'm going to round this off with the liturgical call and response which finishes many a CofE service. The part in bold is said by the congregation.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
In the name of Christ, amen.

The Church of the South Pacific is a safe space to discuss spirituality of all kinds and is open to people of all faiths and none.


* It was Northern Ireland, so that mattered even if you weren't religious. I once heard an anecdote about an Atheist who, when visiting Northern Ireland, was asked “Are you Protestant or Catholic?”. When the Atheist explained that they didn't believe in God they received the reply, “Ah, but is it the Protestant God or the Catholic God that you don't believe in?”