Living Theology
in the Metropolitan Chicago Synod
Evangelical Lutheran
Church In America
Volume 7, Number 2
Christmas 2002
As I See It…
By Frank C. Senn
The Need to Observe the Rubrics
What do theatrical
productions, sports games, the procedures of the U.S. Congress, and the liturgy
of the church all have in common?
Answer: they are all ritual systems.
Rituals allow social groups to get certain things done, whether the goal
is to stage Romeo and Juliet, score a
touchdown, enact legislation, or facilitate an encounter between God and God’s
people.
As ritual systems these activities operate according to strict
sets of rules. The balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet cannot be done without
a balcony if the director is to make sense of the dialogue between the two main
characters. A touchdown counts only if
the player carries the football across the opposing team’s goal line. A legislative bill becomes law only if it is
brought to the floors of the house and senate, receives the requisite number of
votes, and is signed by the president.
The liturgy of the Western church, including its Lutheran variant, also
follows a set of rules called rubrics (from the tradition that directions used
to be printed in red ink) that allows the liturgy to be the forum of an
encounter between God and God’s people.
The order of the historic liturgy contributes toward this
goal by providing two moments in which God comes to God’s people in Christ through
the Holy Spirit in promised ways: the preaching of the gospel and the
administration of the sacraments.
Christ promises to be present where two or three are gathered in his
name, but we believe the Holy Spirit works through means of grace. Since the encounter with Christ is a two-way
communication, the order has preliminaries involving praise and prayer by which
the people are prepared to receive Christ, and faith-responses of the people in
the forms of a confession of faith and a post-communion song and prayer.
There are also roles in the
assembly that serve this encounter. The
people are involved in offering their praise and prayer, their affirmation of
faith and thanksgiving. The liturgy (leitourgia) is the public work of the
people. But there are roles in the
assembly for ministers who read the scriptures, preach the word, officiate at
the sacrament, and administer the earthly signs of the sacraments. In addition to the “visible words” of water
and oil, bread and wine, there are words spoken over these elements and to
those who receive them. The rubrics of
who does what in the liturgy are as precise as the cast of characters in a
drama, the number and function of players on a team, and the role of legislative
leaders in the U. S. Congress.
We Americans seem content to
follow rules and procedures when it comes to staging plays, playing games, and
doing the work of the people in government.
But many pastors, priests, and other ministers are willing to bend the
rules or ignore them when it comes to liturgy.
Yet liturgy has characteristics of some of the other ritual systems I
have mentioned. It is a kind of drama,
a form of play, and an official representative work. Some, especially Lutherans of a pietistic bent, would claim that
disregarding the rubrics is a way of exercising evangelical freedom. Such folk appeal to a spiritual value within
the genius of Lutheranism.
I don’t see it this
way. As I see it, this penchant for
flouting rubrics is an American thing.
It’s in our cultural veins, and we appeal to the principle of
evangelical freedom in order to justify our cultural proclivities. To be sure, there is a proper evangelical
freedom which resists oppressive legalisms.
The European State Lutheran
Churches also know about the Reformation’s principle of freedom in the
gospel. Yet they have canon laws which
regulate times of services, orders of service, and sometimes even the texts on
which pastors will preach. In Iceland,
for example, guidebooks state that Sunday services in the Church of Iceland are
at 11 a.m. or 2 p.m. The Church of
Sweden provides in its Manual all the liturgical options available to parishes
at the principal stated times of worship (although there is freedom at other
times to use other eucharistic liturgies or prayer services). The United Lutheran Church in Germany has a
seven-year series of preaching texts, and pastors are expected to base their
sermons on these texts. These churches cannot
be regarded as un-Lutheran because they operate with liturgical laws and expect
pastors to adhere to the rubrics in agendas and manuals.
In contrast, our pastors
believe that statements adopted by churchwide assemblies, such as The Use of the Means of Grace, and
rubrics in worship books such as the Lutheran
Book of Worship are optional. The
result is often a confusion of belief on the part of the laity because
practices are uncertain and differ so widely from one congregation to another.
Let us be clear that sacramental practices statements and
worship book rubrics are not carved in stone for all time. They can be changed by the consensus of the
church through orderly procedures. In
the last two generations, sacramental practices, statements and worship
resources have been put before pastors and their congregations for study, trial
use, evaluation, and feedback, and then adopted, not by elitist committees, but
by churchwide conventions and assemblies.
The authorities that stand behind recommended sacramental practices and
liturgical rubrics are formidable; they include scripture, historical
tradition, theological principles, and reason in the form of previous
experience and ritual sense.
In making a theological case for observing rubrics, I appeal
first to the law/gospel dialectic of Lutheran theology—not every use of the law
is negative. Law can have a positive
value in that what God promises is received as a consequence of doing what God
commands. The promised benefits of the
sacraments come from doing what Christ has commanded us to do.
The Lutheran theology of the
means of grace holds that grace comes from performing certain rites instituted by
Christ, who commanded his disciples to continue performing these rites. Forgiveness of sins, deliverance from death
and the devil, and the gift of eternal salvation come from performing the rite
of baptism. Without water connected
with God’s word there is no baptism, and therefore no benefits.
The same applies to the
Eucharist. Forgiveness of sins, life,
and salvation are the promised benefits of following the rubrics given in the
institution texts: namely, that bread and wine are to be taken, blessed or
given thanks over, distributed, and consumed by the communicants.
There’s nothing difficult about following these rubrics; the
commands are easy to observe. Yet the
church at various times and places has celebrated the Eucharist disobediently by
taking elements other than bread and wine, not giving thanks, withholding one
or the other of the elements, and not having communicants present to eat and
drink the sacramental signs. (In
European Lutheran churches I have never received communion in forms other than
bread and wine, and the wine only from a common chalice; and people in these
countries are just as health conscious as Americans.)
We have justified our
cultural desire to disregard rubrics by appealing to the doctrine of adiaphoron. This doctrine holds that matters not essential to salvation are
“indifferent.”
First
of all, we should be clear that not all practices are indifferent; some ritual
matters are essential to salvation.
“The one who believes and is baptized shall be saved” (Mark 16:16). Eternal salvation depends on performing the
rite of baptism, which in its larger sense includes practices of catechesis
that lead one to belief. Baptism also
initiates one into the fellowship of the church, which is manifested at the
Lord’s Table. Holy Communion is the
test of whether one is a member of the church, the body of the crucified and
risen Christ, the community of salvation.
Therefore the obedient performance of the eucharistic rite is also not a
matter of indifference.
St. Paul held that one could eat and drink to one’s
condemnation (1 Corinthians 11:27-32).
The same may be applied to the office of the keys. Confession and absolution—in that order—are
not indifferent matters; they are the heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ. What the church does on earth in loosening
and binding sins is ratified in heaven (Matthew 18:18; John 20:23).
Secondly, just because some
liturgical matters are true adiaphora
does not mean they are unimportant.
Many practices which are not essential to salvation aid or hinder the
communication of the gospel. It is not
a matter of unimportance, just because salvation doesn’t depend on it, whether
worshipers understand the scriptures that are read in the assembly or
participate overtly in the songs of the liturgy.
Luther was concerned that
worship should be in the language of the people and that the people should
participate in the liturgy by singing sturdy songs. Lutheranism will surely continue to be concerned about these
issues. If there are people in our
assemblies who do not understand English, the scriptures must be proclaimed in
a language they do understand. The
people must have songs that they can sing—both settings of liturgical texts (many
of which are biblical) as well as durable hymnody. Issues of musical leadership and architectural acoustics are not
unimportant, since they affect the people’s ability to sing.
Luther was concerned that
the people’s worship connect them with the church of all times and places and
not be ensconced in one language and culture.
Therefore he retained the catholic order of the liturgy, the historic
texts of the mass or versifications of them, and sometimes words from other
languages, especially the Latin language which provided a transcultural
element, and the chants associated with the Latin texts.
Lutheran liturgy still
demonstrates these characteristics. Our
orders of service are, as I said above, variants of the Western rite in terms
of the form of the mass, the prayer offices, and the features of many of the
occasional services. We have retained
the actual biblical and liturgical canticles rather than just versifications of
them. It is OK if our choirs sing in
languages other than English. In the
Taizé chants that have attained an almost universal popularity, even Latin
refrains have been revived.
With some of these
principles in mind, let me risk wrath by commenting on some practices that are ritually
confusing, cite the rubric that is being violated, and state the authority that
provides the rationale for the rubric.
Some pastors have directed
the congregation to join in reading aloud the prayer of the day even though the
script indicates P for Presiding Minister.
This prayer, historically called the Collect for the Day, was said by
the celebrant at the end of the entrance rite as he or she gathered the
assembly into prayer before hearing the word.
The weight of tradition as well as ritual sense argues that this prayer
should be offered only by the presiding minister. The congregation assents with its “Amen.”
Many of these prayers go
back to Latin texts with complicated grammatical syntax, and some practice is
required to speak them effectively. The
Notes on the Liturgy in the Lutheran Book
of Worship Ministers Book say, “The prayer should be read or sung
deliberately, since each phrase carries a wealth of meaning and application”
(p. 27). (Contrary to opinions that flourished
in 1978, the Notes on the Liturgy were part of the authorized or approved
text. The brown Ministers Edition is
simply a desk version of the official green altar book. The Manual
on the Liturgy was an unauthorized, though helpful, resource.)
Some pastors have the
congregation join in reading the gospel text, arguing that they are all
proclaimers of the gospel. The script
here also designates P, but the Notes on the Liturgy indicate that this P might
be the preacher for the service and acknowledge that reading the gospel was
traditionally the deacon’s role; therefore reading the gospel “may be assigned
to an assisting minister” (p. 27).
In arguing against a
congregational reading of the gospel we appeal to the Pauline dictum that
“faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of
Christ” (Romans 10:17). We all stand as
those who need to hear the gospel before we can proclaim it to others. Moreover, a well-read narrative has a far
greater impact on the hearers than a hundred people mumbling through a text
they have not practiced. If the text is
read well, it is better for people simply to listen than to follow the reading
on a lectionary sheet.
There are things which are
simply inappropriate to the liturgy. It
is inappropriate to carry on general conversation during the greeting of
peace. This is a solemn moment enacting
reconciliation among those who will commune together at the Lord’s Table.
It is inappropriate to
applaud the choir or other musicians who have offered music to the glory of God
or the edification of the congregation.
The practice also opens up a Pandora’s box of problems. How does the choir feel if some Sunday the
congregation doesn’t applaud? Does the
choir or a vocal soloist get applause, but not the flutist or the
organist? Or, in an effort not to
ignore anybody, should we applaud everything?
It’s better not to go there.
Then there’s the
presentation of the alms basins at the altar as a heave-offering in the
grandest gesture of the entire liturgy, which surely goes beyond the slight
elevation mentioned in the Notes on the Liturgy. How does this ostentatious act answer the criticism of some
people that all the church is interested in is money?
There is also the practice
of breaking the bread at the words in the institution text that Jesus “took
bread, ...broke it, and gave it to
them.” The breaking of bread (called
the fraction) is for the distribution, as the Notes on the Liturgy indicate,
not for dramatic effect. Lutherans in
the sixteenth century categorically rejected a dramatic fraction, whether done
to enact the sacrifice of Christ by the papists or done to foster a subjective
memorial of Christ by the Reformed.
There are issues which are
genuine conundrums. I think one of the
thorniest is the question of the use of the Words of Institution alone versus
the use of the Great Thanksgiving.
There’s no question that a full eucharistic prayer had no career in
Lutheran liturgy before the twentieth century.
Here Lutheranism broke with the catholic tradition in exorcizing the
Canon from the Mass and not replacing it with any other eucharistic prayer. Yet the biblical rubrics clearly say that
Jesus “took bread, blessed it...” and “took the cup, gave thanks over it...” We
cannot say what kind of thanksgiving Jesus might have said, although we do have
clues about the Jewish table prayers in the Mishnah.
I think one way to approach the
issue is by asking how certain theological meanings of the eucharistic
celebration would be expressed without using the Great Thanksgiving. How does the Service of Holy Communion
articulate thanksgiving, the sacrifice of Christ, the remembrance of saving
events, the role of the Holy Spirit, the use of creation, the eschatological
banquet, etc. without a great text at the center of the celebration? Are we helping our people to appreciate the
rich theological dimensions of Holy Communion if we use only the Words of
Institution alone? (The argument that
the Great Thanksgiving takes too long is simply ludicrous. Cut the parish announcements and augment
prayer and praise. Worship will be a
much better experience, especially for visitors.)
We still have congregations
which do not celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday and festival, as the
Confessors at Augsburg said was done in their churches (Augsburg Confession, 24; Apology,
24). We have the weight of catholic tradition,
the Lutheran Confessions, the clear preference of the Lutheran Book of Worship itself and the ELCA Statement on The Use of the Means of Grace all
pointing in this direction, but some congregations have not yet implemented the
practice.
What does it take to
implement this practice? In the absence
of pastoral confidence, I would say it takes some intervention on the part of
the bishop. I once heard an ELCA
bishop, when asked how a congregation decides whether to have weekly communion,
respond by saying that the congregation has already decided to have weekly
communion by adhering to the Lutheran Confessions in its Constitution. The decision has been made; the question is
when it will be implemented.
Finally, I have not
addressed the question of seeker services or contemporary worship versus the
traditional liturgy, nor will I address that question. The form of seeker services comes out of the
frontier evangelical revival tradition and operates with a different set of
rubrics than the historic liturgy of the Western Church. However, since practice informs belief,
Lutherans ought to inquire about what kind of belief system is being formed in
seekers by the use of this ritual system.
As for “contemporary worship,” this is presumably a free form experience
on which one cannot generalize.
With both seeker services
and creative liturgies, however, one ought to inquire whether a balance is
struck between the sacrificial and sacramental dimensions of worship, between
giving glory to God and edifying the congregation, and whether such orders
provide for such elements of worship as the centrality of word and sacrament,
confession of sin, adoration of God, proclamation and thanksgiving (which are
closely related in reciting the mighty acts of God, as the biblical word exhomologesis indicates), profession of
faith, acts of commitment, intercession, and supplication. The full historic liturgy provides for all
of this; many contemporary services I
have experienced are lacking something.
In the traditional liturgy
(which is reflected in but not subsumed by the Lutheran Book of Worship), the rubrics by which the order is
followed and the texts read are as integral to this rite as the fact that the
Gospel follows the Second Lesson and that there is a particular Gospel
assigned. Order, texts, and rubrics are
of one piece, a unified whole. Like performing
Romeo and Juliet, playing football,
or passing a bill in the U.S. Congress, there is some leeway in how the liturgy
is realized in each assembly. Some of
the rubrics even give options for variations according to time and place. But you can’t disregard the stage
directions, the rules of the game, the committee procedures, or the rubrics and
not be surprised if the play, the game, the law, or the liturgy break down into
confusion.
Perhaps after twenty-five
years, and before we move on to the next generation of worship materials,
pastors ought to take the brown LBW
Ministers Book off their shelf or open up the green altar book to the front
and re-read the Notes on the Liturgy.
Here are two views from the
pews about public performances of the ministry of word and sacrament. The names of the reporters are withheld to
protect the innocent. I’m not sure that
even an immersion in the Manual on the
Liturgy would help where there is no sensitivity to the requirements of
public ritual. You be the judge.
“In a previous congregation we had an interim pastor who proclaimed the Gospel while slouched against the piano, reading from a single sheet of paper. This was not done to make a dramatic point on a given Sunday. It happened week upon week. The Worship Committee suggested that he give some thought to the dignity of the moment and act accordingly. He told the next interim that the folk in the congregation tried to tell him where to stand.”
“[Let me tell you about]
this lack of decorum on Easter at the congregation I grew up in. Ever since I was a kid there, the
congregation has had a cross structure on which they have placed Easter lilies
on Easter Sunday. One year it was
placed front and center in the chancel, directly in front of the altar. There was no way the pastor could have used
the altar unless he wanted to hide behind this lily cross. (Why they didn’t assemble this thing off to
the side, I will never know.)
“So, since the altar was
rendered essentially unusable, the pastor presided at Holy Communion from a plant
stand placed next to the cross of lilies, with a top less than a foot
square. While celebrating from this
incredibly inadequate makeshift altar, the pastor suddenly forgot the Words of
Institution. He fumbled around for a Lutheran Book of Worship and tried to
find the page on which they were printed.
While he gracelessly continued, he almost dropped the book several times
while trying to balance it and hold forth a tiny wafer or the chalice. Needless to say, the next year I found an
excuse to stay at my regular parish for Easter rather than go home.”
Frank C. Senn