The Liturgical Nature of Christianity
"And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment."
I’ve been putting out a lot of articles lately that are quite weighty in the subjects they cover as well as being integral to my theology. These include recent articles such as “A Model of Christian Orthodoxy” and “The Virtues as a Natural Law,” among others, which all tend to be lengthy discussions probing deep subject matters that have taken me quite some effort to flesh out. Well, why not continue with this trend? I feel that, as the New Year starts to pick up, these more involved discussions will not only help, certainly, clarify my stances but lay the foundations for more important projects and efforts in the future, whether those concern this blog, my interactions beyond this blog, and even my church life.1 So, yes, why not continue the trend and add a few more articles to the growing pile?2
The discussion that I want to have today, if not clear from the title and thumbnail, regards Christian liturgics, that is, the theological subdiscipline concerning the nature, elements, and manner of liturgical practices in Christianity. This is something that I consider very important, for several reasons, which I’ll make sure to elucidate in the course of this article. Liturgy often exists in a state of either obscurity or derision for many Protestant Christians, particularly those of “Evangelical,” “low-church,” or “charismatic” backgrounds, hundreds of millions altogether. For many, “liturgy” is obscure, a word not often thought about, and has vaguely something to do with Catholics and whatever they’re up to. For others, that’s precisely the point, “liturgy” is Catholic, and it’s all full of contrived, manmade, and vainglorious rituals that distract from the true heart of the Gospel. (Pharisaical is another word that can be used.) In my day-to-day church life I rarely hear the word liturgy used (instead, “worship,” “sermon,” or “services”) and the specifics of the concept are little-known.
Is this appropriate? Should we think so little of liturgy? Well, let me begin by making clear a conviction of mine: a lack of substance always ends up with a lack of faith. Think about it. If your church isn’t defined by anything, what is it really for? If people go to your church and don’t really get anything from it, what’s the point in going? A point of contention I’ve often raised over “trendy” and “evangelical” churches is this very matter, that they don’t have any genuine substance to how they worship other than what’s alluring and accommodating to the outsiders they so desperately want to pull in.3 If going to your church constitutes an experience one can find somewhere else, then why shouldn’t they go somewhere else?4 This is what’s killing modern churches, even more so (although complementary to) than theological liberalism; it’s the fact that churches have become a dime a dozen. Why go to a church with all the baggage like “religious trauma,” “hypocrisy,” commitments to the Bible or prayer, even if a church doesn’t emphasize them all that much, when one can simply go to a nightclub or party venue and frolic all night long with friends and erotic interests? If a church actually has something genuine and unique to present to people then, surprise surprise, they might actually be interested in going! As Winfield Bevins laments,
For example, many contemporary churches play worship music that echoes secular pop songs, and we’ve designed our church buildings to look like Walmarts or movie theaters, neglecting theologically informed architectural designs that were once popular in church buildings and sanctuaries.
Diluting the church, laying down our sacred lives for the profane world (Lk. 17:33), does nothing helpful for it, it can only ever be deleterious. The only way to attract people is to actually give them something substantive, not contrived, unoriginal, or secular.5
I must emphasize this, for the hapless journey amongst many modern pastors to focus on “church growth,” as part of a reaction to the dismal statistics of religiosity and Christianity in America/the West,6 leads to the corruption of a church into hyperfixating on statistics rather than spirit, and, as Harshit Singh warns,
In the process, you offer a different Christ to people, one who appeals to their natural and often selfish desires, but who doesn’t confront their sin, demand repentance, and command total submission in all areas of their lives. Maybe they even join your church, but it’s not because they want a crucified Christ. They certainly don’t want to deny themselves and carry their cross to follow him.
A church that focuses exclusively on numbers turns their faith into a statistical phenomenon, not anything substantive. “Who cares who’s coming through the doors, we’re at least having better attendance than we’ve had in years, and the collection plates are fuller than ever, which means we can keep the utilities going for a few more years!” I hope this immediately strikes you as odd, improper, and wrong. As I put it in another article, “A good shepherd is not focused on having the biggest flock but on having the most cared for and maintained flock, and by taking good care of his flock his prudence will pay off and that will contribute to future growth.” By remaining true to Christ we will be rewarded, and we must remember that “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance” (Lk. 15:7), so even if a church loses five souls and gains one Heaven will be far more proud of that one soul that learned to (genuinely) love God. I don’t like seeing churches die, yes, but it’s far worse to see churches sell themselves out for worldly acceptance, for the far more hideous reality of that is it causes not only the building to perish, but the people themselves. Here’s the thing: if the church lets itself become unequally yoked to the perishing world, then it too will perish; “Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (Jn. 12:25).
Now, the reason I say all this is to clarify what I said at the outset: that a lack of substance begets a lack of faith, for as we’ve seen losing or selling out the substance of our faith does nothing but dilute and weaken our faith, turning into just another banal worldly affair (with some singing and motivational speeches). A church must have substance or it’s not a church at all; it really isn’t anything at all at that point. You see, every church has substance, every church does something tangible; if you do something at your church then there is something to it (duh?). This connects to liturgy because it demonstrates that all churches do indeed have a liturgy, they all have ways and forms of doing things (they all have some substance), and the only question is if a church’s liturgy is simple or elaborate, good or bad.7 It is my intent in this article to argue that liturgy is a valid Christian practice, and that to secure our futures it must be rediscovered, with attention to far greater elaboracy than many Christians are familiar with.
Now, being from a Protestant background I of course agree with sola scriptura. It is acceptable and reasonable that Scripture should serve as the centerpoint of our religion, as the main (ultimate) source of our religious, theological, ethical, and social instruction (cf. 2 Tim. 3:14-17; Heb. 4:12). Many of my brethren are of a similar mind, even to the point of biblicism, and so I start here not only because it’s reasonable but also because it’s necessary to effectively communicate the importance and validity of liturgy to such people. Where it’s probably even better to start is with the statement that liturgy is explicitly mentioned in Scripture. You heard me right, now let me demonstrate that.
First, what exactly does liturgy mean? Well, liturgy derives (through Latin transmission) the ancient Greek word λειτουργῐ́ᾱ (leitourgíā), which literally means “the service which is done on behalf of the public” (the lit/leit part of the word is a cognate of laity, which meant “commoners” before adopting a religious connotation).8 This service, usually mediated by the patrons of the ancient Greek city-states or its archons, constituted basic fiduciary and juridical functions on top of festal celebrations, public works, and theatrical performances. In other words, leitourgíā was public governance, doing the things that kept the polis operating, and upon acquiring its religious connotation it also meant doing the things (rituals, ceremonies, prayers, festivals, etc.) that kept the temples operating. This same word and this same significance is present in Scripture itself.
Take Acts 13 as an example. The chapter begins with introducing us to the church in Antioch and describing how the Holy Spirit comes to the Apostles to commission Paul and Barnabas on their missionary journey. Right before the Holy Spirit comes the disciples in Antioch are described as “serving the Lord and fasting” (v. 2). In the Greek this reads “leitourgounton…to Kyrio kai nesteuonton,” and you might recognize that first word, leitourgounton. Yes, that is indeed leitourgíā (G3008), the performance of religious service (as defined by Strong’s). Furthermore, this passage states that after being commissioned by the Holy Spirit the disciples “fasted and prayed.” So, we see here that the disciples were actively serving (i.e., liturgizing) God, in an ecclesial environment, and their liturgizing was accompanied by classical religious practices such as prayer and fasting. So, accordingly, one cannot argue this is just the disciples doing generic religious “stuff,” extemporaneous and “full of the Spirit,” for the circumstances of this passage clearly indicate that religious leitourgíā is in mind here, and in the same way political leitourgíā constitutes procedural and formal practices for the purposes of the state so does its religious cousin (although for the temple instead).
There’s more we can look at, and next I’ll bring your attention to 2 Corinthians 9, wherein Paul discusses his desire to come to Corinth to collect alms for the suffering church in Jerusalem (vv. 6-15), and Paul gives some instructions as to why it is God-glorifying and holy to partake in almsgiving so as to spur on the Corinthians’s generosity. In discussing this practice in verse 12, Paul describes the almsgiving of the Corinthians as “leitourgias tautes,” literally “this liturgy,” and says that this liturgy of theirs will “glorify God because of your obedience to your confession in the gospel of Christ and the generosity of your sharing with them and with everyone” (v. 13), for “Paul viewed the benefits of their gift as spilling over onto others who would also praise God for the Corinthians’ generosity. The abundant grace that God has given us will overflow into the lives of many others too if we pass it on.”9
In addition, let us not forget to note that the Jewish religion itself had a clearly liturgical nature, abundantly clear from books such as Deuteronomy and Leviticus, and even modern-day Talmudic Judaism retains liturgical elements. To deny that the typical service in a synagogue or the Temple was vastly different from how many low/Evangelical churches do it today would be simply absurd. Among those who recognize that disparity, in defense of their simplicity (banality?), they will claim that Christ established a different way for Christians to worship that didn’t contain all that foppery and regalia, but what Christ wants is “spirit and truth” (Jn. 4:24). This is true, but it overextends Christ’s desire for humility and charity in religion (His actual anti-Pharisaism) into a desire for a lack of substance and for nothing tangible to be held onto whatsoever. It also completely ignores the clear lack of scorn expressed by the early Christians toward the traditional structures of Second Temple Jewish religion.
To see this we will turn first to the Acts of the Apostles. What better resource for learning about how the church ought to operate than Acts? Indeed, my own denomination has historically taken great pride in Acts, since its numerous descriptions of the church in action (as its name literally signifies) help provide an idea of how the church today should act. This has led to the rise of terms such as “a New Testament church,” “a New Testament Christianity,” “worshiping like the first-century Church,” and other important slogans highlighting our devotion to the early and apostolic forms of our religion. I, of course, agree with this, and I don’t deny the sensibility behind it. I only deny acting as if Acts doesn’t also provide precedent for a liturgical faith.
Take, for example, Acts 2. In verse 42 the early fellowship of the believers is described as constituting being “devoted [] to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” So, they were devoted to the apostles (the princes of the Church), and to the fellowship (loving and edifying their brethren). However, notice what it also says, in the second part of the verse, that they also were devoted “to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” You see, there are definite articles used here, a grammatical feature that tells us something important.10 Since these are definite articles then clearly specific, formal types of practices are being referred to. These prayers aren’t just generic reverent orations or being said spur-of-the-moment, in which case Luke wouldn’t have used an article (“they devoted themselves…to prayer[s]”) or would’ve used the verbal form (“they devoted themselves…to praying”). These are, again, specific prayers, perhaps traditional Jewish prayers known to Second Temple Jews (more than likely to be psalms), which, at the most, they probably reformulated only to the extent of properly identifying Christ as the messianic or divine entity referenced in those prayers. That these are formal and liturgical practices one needs only also look to how “the prayers” are collocated with “the breaking of the bread,” an unmistakable reference to the Eucharist, the (formal) observance of which is the most universal liturgical practice in all Christianity. Granted, Evangelical-type churches will simply throw cardboard wafers and grape juice at you compared to the monstrances and offertories of Anglicanism or Catholicism, but we all agree that the Lord’s Supper (along with baptism, singing, prayer, and preaching) are unmistakable, universal, and biblical elements of Christian worship (liturgy). Mind you, as well, Luke describes the practice of these rituals as “continued steadfastly” (depending on your translation), indicating just how important these practices were.
Thoroughgoing study of the biblical text will support what I’m saying as well. For example, Craig Keener, an esteemed theologian who wrote a four-volume (nearly 5,000-page) commentary on Acts, said the following concerning this verse:
The corporate prayer meetings in which the largest number of the community’s members gathered were probably in the temple (Acts 2:46), the courts of which were expansive enough to house large groups of people, especially in the less crowded intervals between festivals (Luke 24:53; Acts 2:46; 3:1; 5:12). Continual prayer presumably means gathering for regular times of prayer (as illustrated concretely in the following narrative, Acts 3:1), though they may have also maintained a spirit of prayer through the day as in some traditional cultures. Regular prayer times in the temple might best explain Luke’s use of the plural here.11
So Keener agrees that this was regular, formal worship that took place in the temple. And it’s no small thing to emphasize that the church was meeting in the Jewish temple, for it shows that the early Christians had an affinity for the traditional religious (liturgical) system of ancient Judaism, even if Christ’s Advent and Pentecost had radically changed its nature. Yes, Christ was the High Priest and His Church the new Temple, and John 4 fundamentally reworks the Jewish Temple system, but none of this is an abolition insofar as it is truly a transformation. Again, the desire for the Christians to meet in the Temple (which, given the religio-political climate at the time, would be like a mouse having its mouse dinner next to a cat’s bed) shows they cared for it and what it still represented. Keener, again, backs me up on that:
The revival of spiritual temple worship here would evoke for Luke’s biblically informed audience grand precedents. Throughout the priestly work of the Chronicler, renewal of temple (or tabernacle) worship accompanied revivals in Israel’s history. This worship could involve the prophetic Spirit (1 Chr. 25:1-6), and it generated the psalm that became standard in later temple liturgy (2 Chr. 29:30). The early Christians thus had good reason to expect (and experience) a renewal of temple worship, whether or not the authorities saw fit to cooperate with their agenda.12
A renewal, that’s what the Christians were looking towards, not an abrogation or condemnation. The “pomp and circumstance” of the Temple wasn’t just vainglorious foppery (well, certainly some elements became like that, but not every) but was something God truly cherished (given He was the One Who gave all of it to the Israelites in the first place) and wanted to see restored in the death and Resurrection of His beloved Son.13
As we turn through Acts and get to chapter 5 we also find another insightful example of biblical liturgics. Towards the end of the chapter we are told that “every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus” (v. 40), demonstrating just how devoted (continually steadfast) they were to the Word. This is also another instance of regular and formal worship, which is, once more, in the temple (“every day,” “in the temple,” “preaching”). Later, however, the growth of the Church comes to reach such a point that more formality and order is required, so the disciples come together and say, “It is not right for us to neglect the word of God to wait on tables” (6:2). You see, the disciples considered it very important to preach the word of God and to be able to perform their duties unhindered by things not nearly as important.14 So, the disciples acknowledge this issue, appoint deacons, and are now able to, get this, more readily “devote ourselves to the prayer and to the ministry of the word” (v. 4). You see? More definite articles! The ministry, as well as the prayer (the articles are likewise present in the Greek but hidden in most translations), indicates a specific form of ministry and prayer that is dedicated to the Word. It isn’t “ministering the Word,” “ministries of the Word,” “praying the Word,” or any other indefinite articulation, but, again, the ministry of the Word and the prayer of the Word. Interesting.
We can now turn to one of my favorite exhibits of liturgical practice in the New Testament. If you turn to Acts 20 you will see that we approach the end of Paul’s career and his final missionary journeys. At the end of his (eventful) stay in Ephesus, Paul and his company departs and continues their journey:
We sailed away from Philippi after the days of Unleavened Bread, and within five days we came to the others in Troas, where we stayed for seven days. … We went on ahead to the ship and put out to sea for Assos, intending to take Paul aboard there, for he had arranged it this way. He himself was intending to go there by land. When he met us in Assos, we took him aboard and went to Mitylene. We set sail from there, and on the following day we arrived off Chios. The next day we approached Samos, and the day after that we arrived at Miletus. For Paul had decided to sail past Ephesus so as not to spend time in the province of Asia, for he was hurrying to arrive in Jerusalem, if possible, by the day of Pentecost. (Acts 20:6, 13-16)
You see what’s important here? Paul was hurrying, to the point of (you could say) neglecting his duties in Ephesus to make it to Jerusalem to observe Pentecost (Shavuot). We see here, then, an awareness of and respect for the ancient Jewish liturgical calendar. “But Paul, don’t you know Christ fulfilled the Jewish festivals and rituals…well, you ought to, as you wrote that ‘no one is to act as your judge in regard to food and drink, or in respect to a festival or a new moon, or a Sabbath day—things which are only a shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ’ after all!” I think Paul knows his own beliefs and writings quite well, and so clearly he can’t be contradicting himself. A man like Paul is often taken to have been stringently anti-Judaizing, so it’s understandably odd to see him do something like hurry to observe “a festival.” However, the answer is found right in every passage you might think is grounds for fomenting tension with what Paul is doing here. Consider the end of what Paul says in Colossians, that these festivals and religious practices “are only a shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ.” This is precisely what I said earlier about the Temple system:
A renewal, that’s what the Christians were looking towards, not an abrogation or condemnation. The “pomp and circumstance” of the Temple wasn’t just vainglorious foppery…but was something God truly cherished…and wanted to see restored in the death and Resurrection of His beloved Son.
God wanted Christ to have His children discover the substance and the truth of the Old Testament religion in Himself, as the true Temple and His Church as the true Israel. In the same way we are all centered around Christ, as His Body, the Israelites were all centered around Jerusalem (or Bethel) with the Temple/Tabernacle. Ever noticed how Israel is often corporately referred to as “the congregation” (Ex. 12:3; Lev. 4:13; Josh. 8:35; 22:16; Judg. 20:2; 2 Chr. 1:3; etc.)? Same goes for what Christ says about His own relationship to the Law: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matt. 5:17). Fulfillment does indicate a change in some ways, sometimes hard changes (as it was for the Pharisees and zealous Jews who had been incensed enough by the Romans trying to change their religion), but “change” might not be nearly as appropriate as how Christ Himself conceives His role, which is “messianic fulfillment.”
The Israelites took to animal sacrifices to represent the cost of sin and their reconciliation with God despite their sins, but the Christ comes to fulfill what was foretold by Hosea, that “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, and knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hos. 6:6). Accordingly, Christ becomes a sacrifice for all men, a sacrifice we remember and partake of in the Eucharist, the true sacrifice, “For if the blood of bulls and goats and the ashes of a heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctifies for the purifying of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ, Who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?” (Heb. 9:13-14).
Accordingly, we can understand that here Paul is hurrying to Jerusalem to observe Pentecost, the Christian Shavuot, the fiftieth day after Passover (Pesach, Easter), wherein the Church can more specifically (and appropriately) recognize the descent of the Holy Spirit and the formal consecration of the Church’s life and mission on Earth (Acts 1-2). So, there isn’t at all a tension here between Paul’s supersessionism and yet his continued Jewishness, but rather there is merely an apprehension (by Paul and other Jewish Christians) of “the substance [that] belongs to Christ.” The liturgical calendar was still significant for Paul, and, for later Christians, I believe this is probably where the precedent for establishing our own liturgical calendar was found.15 Keener is also helpful again here, commenting that since “Paul, Luke, and others remained in Philippi for the days of the Unleavened Bread instead of crossing to Troas immediately to rejoin their companions (Acts 20:5-6) suggests that they continued to observe Jewish festivals.”16 This constitutes an indication that the observance of Jewish religious customs persevered in early Christianity, and that these festivals didn’t serve merely as timekeeping devices. While, as Keener acknowledges, Paul loosed Gentile Christians from Jewish customs he did assume the Gentiles would be aware of such customs and receive theological instruction from them.17 James D.G. Dunn also makes relevant comments, concerning Acts 27 in particular,18 although making reference back to here, that “[w]e should not overlook the clear implication that Paul and his companions continued to observe this distinctive holy day.”19
Acts, then, clearly establishes a variety of precedents for the observance and implementation of liturgical practices. Underemphasizing or overlooking these passages only serve to distort Scripture and make it serve our standards rather than God’s.20 However, Acts isn’t all that we have. While it’s certainly nice to see the Church in action, we have the epistolary literature as well, which lays out many of the rules and principles which we see (however inchoate) being lived out in Acts itself. Each part of Scripture has its own usefulness, but each part is equally worthy and insightful. 1 Corinthians 7-14, for example, is primarily dedicated to these issues (from spiritual gifts to gender roles to, you guessed it, worship), and is definitely worth greater attention than what it tends to be given (since we all get confused and antsy when discussing such esoteric or sensitive matters like “spiritual gifts” and the role of women in the Church21).
Far more descriptively than even Corinthians, however, are the Pastoral Epistles. These are, literally, understood to be epistles with a focus on pastoring, i.e., on how the churches are to be led and instructed by its officers appointed first by the apostles (like Timothy). Overlooking them for the information they might contain concerning proper, biblical church practices is simply foolish. In fact, when we take a closer look at these letters, as we will soon enough, we will find abundant evidence of liturgical practices in the early Church.22 Let us just briefly overview the structure of 1 Timothy to begin. We learn from 1 Timothy 1 that heresy in Ephesus had led to discord and confusion within the church(es) there, namely through a loss of format and order in worship, and so Paul calls for (in 1 Tim. 2) an order of prayerful worship to restore unity: “So I want the men in every place to pray, lifting up holy hands without anger or dispute” (v. 8). Likewise, Timothy is instructed by Paul (and, mind you, this by extension means all who minister God’s church for all time) to “give attention to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching” (1 Tim. 4:13). This clarifies an important function of liturgy that we need to pick up on to properly appreciate it. Paul wants Timothy to establish order in worship, an order that is organized around “public reading,” “exhortation,” and “teaching.” The reason? Well, as Philip Towner observes, “reading/hearing of certain significant texts influences the formation, shaping, defining, and redefining of individual corporate identity.”23 By having these practices people are reminded of their faith and what constitutes it; they are provided with substance. If you are consistently reading, singing, hearing, studying, and meditating on Scripture, especially in a corporate ritual, it allows these things to become far more embodied.24 Again Stiekes:
With these insights in mind, we can see more clearly why the public reading itself was essential also in the context of the Ephesian church. There is a dynamic at work when the community of faith gathers to hear the sustained, public reading of the Scriptures, uninterrupted by commentary or application. Like the unity created through the church praying together for the Lord’s blessing in their mission, there is a solidarity that unites the Lord’s people as they sit quietly and submissively to hear the documents read that give them their unique identity. It is the affirmation of the truth of the Scriptures in this context that shines as a beacon against the darkness of error.25
For, as Paul will clarify in his next letter to Timothy, “Every scripture is inspired by God and useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). Liturgy, then, by embodying and incorporating Scripture makes Scripture come to life, allowing for its centrality, utility, and transcendentality for the Christian to be ever more apparent.26 Liturgy, then, compliments Scripture, it serves Scripture; if a liturgy is not focused on reading, praying, and learning Scripture then said liturgy is not a valid one.27 Liturgy animates Scripture, vivifies it in the hearts and minds of all the saints (cf. Deut 6:4-9); as Nicholas Wolterstorf, the eminent Christian philosopher, recounts concerning his upbringing in a liturgical Dutch Reformed church: “Through repetition, elements of the liturgy and of Scripture sank their roots so deep into consciousness that nothing thereafter, short of senility, could remove them.”28
Paul continues, now emphasizing for Timothy, in no uncertain terms, that “I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these instructions to you in case I am delayed, to let you know how people ought to conduct themselves in the household of God, because it is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth” (1 Tim. 3:14-15). Conduct, instructions, order, the prayers, festivals, and the Church as the very foundation for what truth is in the world,29 all these elements lay the foundation for church life, church worship, for these things being a much fuller and more elaborate affair than many Christians have taken them to be, especially as the continuity with ancient Jewish practices we’ve examined also demonstrates. It’s all clearly here, right in Scripture, and the whole rest of Christendom has historically picked up on it, with churches whether Anglican, Catholic, Presbyterian, or Lutheran, all paying heed to sacred architecture, to artifacts and symbols, and to having an extraordinarily substantive faith.30
But, we may ask, “Why?” What is the purpose for anything liturgical in our faith? Why not just directly praise and worship God without any of these contrivances. Well, one, as the foregoing biblical study has demonstrated these aren’t necessarily contrivances, since they’re provided with precedent in Scripture. How can anyone in their right mind call something taught by the Apostles contrived? However, secondly and more importantly, there actually is a very legitimate basis for incorporating and developing liturgical practices in a church, reasons that have solid biblical bases. You might’ve noticed my use of the term “substance” as well as “tangible” throughout this article, especially in my discussion of the danger in having a faith without substance at the outset. Well, it’s here I want to really discuss what I’m implying by employing that rhetoric, especially in a positive sense, in a way that adds to the discussion by positing something, rather than merely taking down the opposite (the substanceless faith/church). Not just that, I want to relate this all to integral biblical realities.
Let us begin with a simple fact: practice makes perfect.31 Additionally, as I discussed not to long ago (with regards to 1 Timothy), the New Testament shows a concern for an ordered and practiced faith, not just in a discipleship way but in a worshipful way, i.e., that in the life and worship of the church, in complementary ways, the faith was to be embodied in all the saints. If we think about how we educate children and help cultivate them into functional, mature, responsible, and independent adults, we will find that quite often, nearly universally as a matter of fact, educators utilize tangible items to help kids (particularly the younger ones, although examples are present through all age groups) better interact with, understand, and learn about key educational concepts. As Drs. Henry and Jane Ojating, writing for the European Centre for Research Training and Development, explain, “the abstract nature of maths, for instance, can be confusing for children, but through the use of these concrete, practical resources, they are able to ‘see’ the maths and make sense of what is actually happening.”32 So, while the abstract formulations and concepts of mathematics can stump a kid, if you provide them with something tangible, like “manipulatives,” as Drs. Ojating term them, which may be blocks or flashcards, you can far more concretely demonstrate how these things work: two blocks and two more blocks come together to make four blocks. Tangible items in education “convey concrete or specific learning experiences, such as, through watching videos, looking at beautiful pictures, observing and manipulating real physical objects and so on,”33 and all these are tangible because they have a concrete existence and can be apprehended with the use of one or more of the senses (creating an involved experience).
These simple educational realities can be applied to and found in biblical, religious realities as well. In the words of Michael Kurek, a Catholic musical composer, “head knowledge can be easily put aside,” which educators can all agree on both coming out of the pandemic and having long experienced “summer learning loss,”34 “but a scapular is there rubbing on your chest, and rosary beads are still rattling in your pocket[, a]nd, of course, the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is the ultimate profundity of human experience that connects heaven and earth in our bodies.” So, Kurek helps connect these simple observations in education to these more profound experiences in religion by giving us a sense of what tangible elements of our faith can do: when you wear a scapular, you feel it, and you can’t forget what your sacred duty is; when you have a rosary, you can’t mistake the feeling of it in your pocket; when you hold a Bible you can’t forget that you’re holding and reading the word of God. As it is for children,35 having something to do, to feel, to commit to fosters memory, understanding, loyalty, and other important attributes; or, as we heard earlier, “reading/hearing of certain significant texts influences the formation, shaping, defining, and redefining of individual/corporate identity.”36
Liturgy works to add far more depth, transcendence, and activity to our worship. Think about the stereotypical image of a bland Evangelical church: four blank walls, a (concert) stage, itchy or hard pews (or even just chairs), and a hipster pastor who’s all about “getting excited for the Lord.” This doesn’t really have any tangibles whatsoever, other than the Bible and pamphlets a congregant might possess (even then only the Bible is a truly liturgical piece), and if it’s a modernistic church with “trendy music” then say goodbye to congregational singing and hymnbooks, which are classical exhibits of tangibles, for all the attention now goes to the performance (and, likely, egos) of the “worship band.”37 What I’m saying is that such churches aren’t really churches, but just pious motivational seminars. As Bevins scathingly explains,
In the 1990s, many churches embraced business and marketing strategies to help them grow larger. They developed slick, well-executed programming to boost attendance, and in an effort to reach young people, churches turned their youth rooms into concert halls. They used, games, gimmicks, and gadgets in order to be relevant and col in hopes of attracting youth. … The end result of attempts to “woo” the world with the world’s ways has produced a generation of consumers—individuals who sit in the driver’s seat and dictate what and how the church should meet their needs—rather than radically committed disciples of Jesus Christ.38
When you take away and whittle everything down to these few elements I’ve named, what does “worship” constitute but sitting down for an hour and having other people practice your religion for you? It seems, then, that “Bible-believing,” Evangelical, nondenominational Christianity is more neglectful toward the laity than many caricatures of the Catholic Church are!39 Really, people, do we imagine that what Heaven looks like is a concert hall!?
And therein lies the heart of my argument against a thin, empty faith, which is that it completely contradicts and undermines the true purpose and nature of the Church. I really want to get this point across as best as I can, so I recommend you take a few minutes to go watch this video here by The Bible Project that discusses the biblical motif of the Temple, particularly what its role and significance was. … … Okay, now that you’ve done that we should be on the same page, and you should now see, as Tim Mackie and Jon Collins explain, that the Temple was the very place where Heaven and Earth met, wherein God’s very presence was situated, and, most importantly, the Church nowadays has taken up that function. This is what Christ really meant in His discussion with the Samaritan woman in John 4, not that the Temple was going to be abolished and there’d just be “spirit and truth,” but rather that the Temple was going to be fulfilled by the Church, with the Spirit of Christ being present in His Church (like the glory of God was in the Temple), and instead of God being “localized” in the Temple all peoples (like the Samaritans, who couldn’t go to the Temple and instead revered Mount Gerizim) would be able to experience Him everywhere (through the local church and the Eucharist). So, the point is that the Church is a huge deal, it is the Temple of Solomon and David, and thus it’s still the dwelling place of Christ Almighty. This is the problem with especially vacuous churches that David Gordon describes,
Some traditions simply meet because they find it helpful and convenient to do so; they regard “church” as a voluntary society, a group of like-minded people doing something together that they find helpful or encouraging, similar to community theatre or a community chorus, but more religious.
The issue here is that this is all incredibly ignorant of the transcendental nature of the Church and is utterly unworthy of being called a church (let alone Christian) whatsoever. I can’t emphasize this enough, for it’s so central not just to my own purposes, but more importantly to God’s, that the Church is where Heaven and Earth meets. Let me keep repeating this: the Church is where Heaven and Earth meets, the Church is where Heaven and Earth meets, the Church is where Heaven and Earth meets. Do your best to let that sink in.
I might be going a bit crazy here so let’s move on to what else this incredible biblical reality connotes. As Keener comments, “early Christian beliefs seem to have resonated with ancient Jewish beliefs that synagogal worship constituted participation in the angelic worship.”40 There is in fact a heavenly/angelic liturgy, present throughout Scripture, whether in references to angels in God’s heavenly presence praising Him (e.g., Ps. 148:1-6; Isa. 6:2-4), or in the esoteric yet detailed descriptions of Revelation of the angelic hosts.41 We also have the descriptions found in Hebrews, which are the most relevant for our purposes, as the heavenly liturgy described here directly relates to Christ: “But Christ came as High Priest of the good things to come, with the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation” (Heb. 9:11). Christ is our High Priest, and priests serve in temples (it could, in fact, be said that angels are the heavenly priests with Christ as their, as well as our,42 High Priest, given the priestly functions of the angels; cf. Isa. 6:1-3; Rev. 8:3-4), and Christ serves in “the greater and more perfect tabernacle,” the heavenly Temple. Here biblicists/lowchurchmen may argue that heavenly realities don’t have earthly realities, which I do believe I’ve heard in such circles, but I think this is clearly preposterous, for there is clearly an earthly Temple (which, as I’ve just explained, is the Church) and here Hebrews clearly mentions a tabernacle (sanctuary/temple) that Christ, in Heaven, serves in (cf. Heb. 8:1-2).43 The most impactful description of Christ’s heavenly service in Hebrews comes in chapter 9 (vv. 23-24), where it is said that
it was necessary for the prototypes of the things in heaven to be purified with these sacrifices, but the heavenly things themselves required better sacrifices than these. For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made with hands—the representation of the true sanctuary—but into heaven itself, and He appears now in God’s presence for us.
There are two things to take away from here. First, “heavenly things.” Granted, the modifier of “heavenly” indicates that these were of a different nature than the earthly things and so there is a distinction between the two, in nature and practice,44 but nonetheless these “heavenly things” are in explicit contrast to the earthly things that occupied the earthly temple, such as the altars, the Menorah, the Ark, the various decorations, and other items. Because of this context, it’s clear that Christ is serving using instruments that also have earthly “prototypes” (“sketches” or “counterparts”). The second thing to take away from here is that very word, prototypes, which does a better job than anything I’ve pointed out so far in demonstrating the reality and relevance of this heavenly worship. As a translation note in the NET Bible on Hebrews 8:5 (another occurrence of this word) explains,
The Greek word ὑπόδειγμα (hupodeigma) does not mean “copy,” as it is often translated; it means “something to be copied,” a basis for imitation.
The NET Bible does attempt to argue for a non-liturgical view, but in light of all we’ve seen I think the view they identify as “Hellenistic” is more appropriate, that “the imagery [is] to be functioning on a vertical plane…and sees the earthly sanctuary as a copy of the heavenly reality.” Indeed, this verse continues to reference Moses being told by God to “make [the tabernacle] according to the design shown to you on the mountain,” and, as the NET Bible also admits, “the word τύπος (tupos) here has the meaning ‘an archetype serving as a model, type, pattern, model,’” and clarifies that, “Here Moses was shown the future heavenly sanctuary which, though it did not yet exist, became the outline for the earthly sanctuary.” Now, this is contrived, for the main impetus for this interpretation seems to be the understanding that the realities of the Temple have been abolished by Christ, rather than, as I argued for earlier, fulfilled and transformed.45 Does the earthly tabernacle still exist? No, but the true earthly tabernacle, the Church, does, and it’s a more appropriate representation of the heavenly temple. So, all this is to say that the heavenly liturgy of Christ described in Hebrews is a true reality for us, and not some sort of metaphorical or allegorical representation of “ineffable heavenly realities,” or however else it can be explained away. Christ is truly doing something for us in Heaven, on our behalf, that must be reflected by us.
This is made relevant to the issue of the church’s nature, and of both the reality and significance of liturgy, discussed before the onset of this tangent by noting that if Heaven has a true liturgy, and the Church is where Heaven and Earth meets, then Earth must of necessity reciprocate and reflect this by having a liturgy too. This also establishes the biblical reality of having a tangible faith because the earthly is supposed to represent the heavenly (as explained in these verses we’ve been discussing), making it tangible and thus accessible to reverence by earthly humans. Earthly liturgy honors Christ’s service in Heaven by embodying it here on Earth, for Christ is both at the right hand of the Father reigning eternally as well as “tabernacling” amongst us by His Spirit (cf. Rom. 8:34; Heb. 1:3; Acts 2:33; 1 Pet. 3:22; etc. and Jn. 1:14; 17:23; Eph. 3:17-19; etc.).
Liturgy, essentially, makes the faith far more tangible than just mere mental assent to a speech. Liturgy makes our religion far more than (as I described it earlier) “sitting down for an hour and having other people practice your faith for you,” but rather it invites and obliges you to partake of it. We are all priests after all, right? The angels partake in Christ’s heavenly liturgy, so we humans can partake in an earthly one as well. Liturgy provides activity, participation, and accountability.46 The importance of an active, participatory, and accountable faith is clearly emphasized in the New Testament. Take, for example, Luke 9, wherein Christ commands that, “If anyone wants to come with Me, he must deny himself, pick up his cross every day, and follow Me continuously, because whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it” (vv. 23-24). Here Christ commands action, and He also commands accountability as those who do not lay down their lives in this world will be held accountable for that (losing it ultimately and eternally), and Christ wants us to do something with His Cross, not just mosey around, and this is where we see Christ calling us to participation as well in this verse, especially when you consider the Greek, as “follow Me” (akoloutheitō moi) comes from the same noun that forms the word “acolyte,” which means more is in mind here than just “follow,” but more so accompaniment or assistance, and what could that which we’re being called to accompany or assist possibly be than worship of the true God in His true (earthly) temple (the Church)?
Likewise, consider the following passage from 1 Corinthians 12, which you might recall is from the extended segment of this epistle in which Paul discusses church order and practices with the Corinthians (vv. 21-26):
The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.
You can see a similar emphasis on those three elements here as well, activity, participation, and accountability. We are all supposed to be active, everyone playing their part (v. 21), partaking in the one true faith together (v. 26), and ensuring that everyone works with each other and holds each other accountable (vv. 24-25). This serves to highlight the interaction and interdependence of believers in the context of worship and communal (liturgical) practices. Each person’s participation, whether it’s in singing, praying, reading scripture, kneeling, crossing oneself, communicating, or performing other liturgical acts, contributes to the overall expression of faith and the making real and tangible of divine realities. Just as the body suffers together and rejoices together, the participation and involvement of every individual in the liturgy and life of the church contribute to a communal experience where all members share in the collective expression of faith. Shortly before this passage, as a matter of fact, we see Paul discussing the Eucahrist (in his most liturgical language save the Pastoral Epistles), and towards the end of his discussion he emphasizes the rules and conduct that people should observe in partaking of the Lord’s body and blood, stressing our liturgical action (in serving/communicating the Supper), our communal participation (in partaking of one Lord), and our ecclesial accountability (making sure we are of proper conscience in receiving the sacrament).
Let me go further with this (because I can). Earlier I mentioned the continuity between the ancient practices of the Israelite religion and the fulfilled/renewed practices of the Christian faith. No one is really able to dispute this, although they can certainly overlook it. The Christian faith is fundamentally Hebrew in nature, for from Israelites, their practices, their prophecies, and their ethnicity itself came all of Christianity; Christ was the king of the Jews, after all. This being the case, the other case is that the Israelite religion was incredibly emphatic about tangible remembrance. The Israelites had a liturgical calendar and important festivals/holidays to practice throughout it, along with fixed prayers and focuses of study, all of which I mentioned earlier, and each of the holidays on their calendar (a divinely ordained one mind you) had special meanings. Let’s take a look at some of those:
Passover (Ex. 12:17-18): “And you shall observe the Feast of Unleavened Bread, for on this very day I brought your hosts out of the land of Egypt. Therefore you shall observe this day, throughout your generations, as a statute forever. In the first month, from the fourteenth day of the month at evening, you shall eat unleavened bread until the twenty-first day of the month at evening.” Observe, “on this very day” implies the memorial nature of the holiday, that it harkens the observant Israelites back to the days when God “brought your hosts out of the land of Egypt,” and so the Israelites were to observe this “as a statute forever” to continually orient their minds and hearts back to this miracle of God.
Feast of Tabernacles (Lev. 23:42-43): “You shall live in booths for seven days; all the native-born in Israel shall live in booths, so that your generations may know that I had the sons of Israel live in booths when I brought them out from the land of Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” Again, here we have a clear emphasis on remembrance, but just as explicitly we can see the equally important element of tangibility, in how God has the Israelites literally live in booths; rather than just mentally recollect the event God has them partake of it again.
The Sabbath (Ex. 31:13): “Say to the Israelites, ‘You must observe My Sabbaths. This will be a sign between Me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the LORD, Who makes you holy.’” This verse gets straight to the point, from start to finish making it clear that the Israelites are actively practicing a remembrance (sign) of the covenantal relationship between God and the Israelits, one that will last for generations, which serves to make them “know that I am the LORD.” Tangibility, participation, and remembrance, all right here in this short verse.
Clearly, the Israelites enormously valued being able to have their faith practiced zealously, regularly, and tangibly. They cherished being able to remember God and honor Him in their worship. As the Israelites are commanded in Deuteronomy 6, “these words that I am commanding you today shall be on your heart,” they were not to be treated lightly, but rather dutifully and continually committed to, to the point of having them tangibly represented in the Israelites lives (by being meditated on “at the time of your lying down and at the time of your rising up,” taught to children, carved into doorframes, etc.), unmistakably and unavoidably (vv. 4-9). Consider what Asaph declares in Psalm 77:
Then I said, “It is my grief, that the right hand of the Most High has changed.” I shall remember the deeds of the Lord; I will certainly remember Your wonders of old. I will meditate on all Your work, and on Your deeds with thanksgiving. Your way, God, is holy; What god is great like our God? You are the God Who works wonders; You have made known Your strength among the peoples. By Your power You have redeemed Your people, the sons of Jacob and Joseph (vv. 10-15).
Asaph is troubled by events that conflict him in his life, troubles that make him feel hopeless. To combat this, Asaph remembers, he dwells on the good things God has done for Israel, and uses this remembrance to trust that God will do good things for him as well. What’s even more important to note about this whole Judaic notion of remembrance is that it meant something a lot stronger than we modern Westerners would take it to mean, as the ancient Israelites
did not simply think truth—they experienced truth. … This experiential perspective on reality explains, in part, why Judaism never really developed vast systems of thought. … To the Jew, the deed was always more important than the creed.47
As a matter of fact, I submit that the biblical language used for remembrance requires it to be understood in terms of participation and tangibility. More than merely cognitive realities, Scripture itself points towards the higher nature and benefits of these practices. Consider the various exhortations for God to “remember” His covenant with Israel, for God to “remember” His people, and God exhorting the Israelites to “remember” His commandments. What, do we think the Israelites are just being asked to recall in their minds what the Shema says, as if that’s sufficient? Or, do we think that God can forget the Israelites? Of course not! What this clearly all indicates is that the Israelites aren’t just recollecting the Torah, they are practicing the Torah, they are embodying it (making it tangible) in their very lives and worship.
If, in the practice of our faith, there are things to pay attention to, reflect on, and genuinely go home with, whether this be iconography, prayer books, a liturgical calendar resplendent with holidays,48 a Eucharist worth revering, or whatever else,49 these things can’t be snuffed out by plugging one’s ears once every seven days. Please see what I mean here. If (to return to a derisive model I’ve given before) our faith only constitutes “sitting down for an hour and having other people practice [our] faith for [us]” then all we need to do to abandon our faith is shut our eyes and close our ears, and we will not experience it any longer. However, if you must keep up with recitation of prayers, blessings, responses (Dominus vobiscum), etc., if you must sing, if you must observe the Feast of the Cross, All Hallows’ Day, Christ-Mass, Pentecost, or other holy days, if you must say your compline/all-night vigil/Evensong prayers, if you must do any of the abundance of practices that traditional, liturgical Christianity is associated with it then becomes enormously more difficult to ignore your faith, and it also becomes enormously more easy to figure out who is ignoring their faith.50 This was all put in a great way by a Byzantine Catholic priest, although I’ve heard it reflected in numerous ways by various other Christians, who said that
We smell God, we taste God, we touch God, we see God, through the physicality of things that make Him present, that make us feel Him. God gave us five senses so we could smell and taste and hear and touch Him, and that’s what we try to do in liturgy. We don’t worship these things, they’re ways to help us enter into that reality, you know, they’re like conduits. Everything is dedicated to that kind of theme here.
Just like with the Israelites, who surrounded themselves with the Torah in practice, memory, lifestyle, and numerous other manners, we Christians, too, should and must inundate ourselves with our faith.
If by this point you’ve forgotten why we’re discussing this, it’s because I posed to myself the question of why. “Why should there be room for anything liturgical in our faith?” As we’ve seen, on top of the biblical precedents established in the first part of this article, the practice of a liturgical faith (one with substance and tangibility, which embodies the principles of activity, participation, and accountability) makes for a holistic, transformative, and transcendental religion that points towards higher, greater, holier realities (like the heavenly tabernacle Christ is currently liturgizing in; like the soaring ceilings of traditional churches that serve to point one’s eyes towards Heaven). Biblically, historically, theologically, sociologically, empirically, all this can be substantiated, adding weightiness to just how important this all is.51
Now, this being the case, there is still one final question that may be asked. If I may break this article up into three parts, I’d say the first part could be described as answering “Where?” (where in Scripture do we find liturgy), and the second as “Why?” (why bother practicing/recognizing liturgy?). As we near the conclusion to this discussion, the final question that may be answered is “How?” In other words, how do we practice a biblical liturgy? I won’t pretend or presume to give or have an absolute answer to that, my main reason why being there isn’t one. Yes, you heard me right, after all this rambling I have nothing positive to give you, but I think that’s a good thing!
It’s good because, one, it keeps our liturgics biblical, for as many theologians have noted, the New Testament itself contains very little explanation of what Christian worship is supposed to look like. Certainly, Paul, as we’ve examined, places an emphasis on structure, order, and proper doctrine, but not enough to create a complete liturgy. While we have the precedent of the Old Testament Temple we must recognize the fulfillment of that prototype that now exists in the Church, which in ways can seem like shifting the goalposts, creating the question of how a Temple-derived Christian liturgy would be structured. Secondly, it’s good because it helps marginalize the temptation that exists to place the liturgy over the faith. In the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican we see a discussion by Christ of a very important issue that arises in liturgy: a legalistic commitment to truth over Spirit, rather than a righteous commitment to Spirit and truth (Lk. 18:9-14). The Pharisee who worships at the Temple (i.e., observes liturgy) is more vacuous than the Publican who, despite his sins, is far more capable of acknowledging the very purpose of worship: to humble oneself before God. If we lose sight of God in our practices we lose sight of the only thing truly worth anything; while, as I discussed elsewhere, the necessities of our faith don’t preclude accessories, they do when the accessories obfuscate the necessities. So, by not spelling out a specific way to do things I think Scripture is allowing us to be “creative” with our liturgies, acknowledging that we have differences, but acknowledging that we must still worship God through our differences.
Now, having said all this, I don’t intend to fully explain this here. This article, is, obviously, growing immensely long and I know people have lives they need to get to rather than sacrificing their obligations for my sake. I’m going to end things here, then, but I will be publishing my discussion of the (basic) form of a biblical liturgy within the following weeks. In that discussion, we will learn about the incredible sacred traditions of the Church, how it historically approached the matter of diverse peoples with concern to worship, and how these details can help inform us in devising ways of worshiping God. In the meantime, consider how parts of Christianity have gone direly wrong in divorcing themselves from many elements of traditional Christianity, what exactly they lost in doing so, and how those of us who belong to those wayward congregations can seek (true) restoration by going “forward to the past,” discovering the riches that countless departed saints laid down for our enrichment and inspiration. All glory be to Christ!
For reasons I discuss, passim, in my article “The Importance Difference Between ‘Bible Scholars’ and ‘Theologians.’”
I must’ve put out over a 100 pages of content in these past few weeks!
Although, interestingly enough, a 2014 survey by the Barna Group revealed that nearly two-thirds of millennials prefer classical churches to “trendy” or “hip” ones.
Winfield Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 29.
Indeed, Bevins is the author of the phenomenal book Ever Ancient, Ever New: The Allure of Liturgy for a New Generation, which demonstrates, as I mentioned in an earlier footnote, that young people are more attracted to traditional and liturgical Christianity than they are “experiential” or “hipster” Christianities. For helpful reviews of Bevins’ work see here, here, here, and here.
There are numerous surveys I can refer you to, some of which I have referred in the past, but you probably know of and can find the ones I’m thinking of (whether from Barna or Pew). These surveys establish that decreasing numbers of Americans consider themselves religious (only “spiritual” at the least), and even fewer attend church actively, so while 70% of Americans might “identify” as “Christian” only 30% regularly attend church, and of those 30% how many are actually being provided a living, enriching church life? This is why I think Christianity is dead or dying in the majority of the West, with America teetering on the brink. For example, the Protestant Church in the Netherlands, the modern body of the Dutch Reformed faith, which held a very prominent place in historical Dutch society, today makes up less than 9% of the Dutch population, atheists constituting almost 60%, and church attendance being at 10%. Catholicism might be the only active denomination left, but what this demonstrates is that Christianity is essentially extinct in a historically Christian nation. The trend repeats in numerous other postmodern, secular, liberal-democratic European nations (like Britain, France, and Sweden).
Indeed, as I’ve seen certain theologians intriguingly argue, the whole human species is intrinsically liturgical, giving rise to what one has called “the homo adorans,” or “the worshiping man” (like homo sapiens, the wise man). Other religions especially, but even secular humanity has liturgical elements to our lives, we can’t escape it. See esp. James K.A. Smith’s series “Cultural Liturgies,” who is probably the foremost theologian I think of when it comes to this subject (I also recommend to you these other articles/lectures by him: “Why the Form of Worship Matters,” “Taking a Liturgical Audit of Your Life,” “How (Not) To Be Secular,” “You Are What You Love,” “James K.A. Smith – Desiring the Kingdom,” and “Culture as Liturgy”); cf. Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World; Carl Trueman, “The Church Among the Deathworks”; this is also a concept important and implicit in the works of James B. Jordan and Peter Leithart.
Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 47.
Dr. Thomas Constable’s notes on 2 Cor. 9:12.
Indeed, these articles are present in the Greek, and not simply the translator’s decision to provide for enhanced clarity, something often done. As you can see here, these words are articled: “te kalsei tou artou kai tais proseuchais.”
Ibid., 1:1033-34, with abundant footnotes providing primary and secondary resources. For other works that demonstrate the continued and renewed theological and liturgical significance of the Jewish Temple in early Christianity see G.K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission (esp. pp. 201-44); Margaret Barker, Temple Themes in Christian Worship; David Schrock, The Royal Priesthood and the Glory of God.
As a matter of fact, I believe these undertones in early Christian/Second Temple Jewish theology is what influenced later Fathers of the Church to pay attention to the Temple and Jewish practices in their writings concerning the Church, and why contemporary Catholic and Orthodox types wax on about how their liturgies are in continuity with the ancient Jewish liturgical practices. See, e.g., Benjamin Williams and Harold Anstall, Orthodox Worship.
Here lies the issue with ordinal numbering, for just because one thing is first place in importance doesn’t mean that a gulf exists between it and second place, and as neck-to-neck victories in athletics or gaming demonstrate first and second place can be very close. As it concerns this matter, the disciples certainly considered their service to the people as important, but compared to serving God it had to take a secondary priority, but they still considered the people important enough to not just marginalize their needs but to create a ministry specifically dedicated to meeting their needs.
Cf. “Remains of the Second and Third Centuries,” in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 8, eds., Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 773; Jerome of Stridon, “Letter XLVI,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers II, vol. 6, eds. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, 63.
Keener, Acts, 3:2959-60.
Ibid., 3:2960; for reasons, and the significance of which, I intend to return to in a later work.
Which is another reference to festal observances among the Christians, particularly Yom Kippur.
Gunn, The Acts of the Apostles, 338.
And, as I’ve warned elsewhere, since “failing to meet a standard” or “missing the mark” is the very definition of sin, to do so comes dangerously close to accusing Scripture of being sinful.
As always I recommend people to Mike Winger’s incredibly exhaustive and still ongoing series on women in the Church, certainly the videos in which he discusses passages from Corinthians.
Much of what I have to say in the following paragraphs will be taken from, unless otherwise specified, Gregory Stiekes, “Liturgy in the Pastoral Epistles,” Artistic Theologian 2 (2013): 37-50.
Quoted in ibid., 47.
Cf. Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 48-54, 56-57.
Stiekes, “Liturgy in the Pastoral Epistles,” 47.
Consider the gilded Gospel Book I’ve mentioned elsewhere, which is a special collection of the Four Gospels, that plays a special liturgical role and honors the Scriptures by giving them their own special host that is read from reverently at specific times in a liturgy. This embodies the importance and sacrality of the Gospel of Christ.
Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 56-57.
Nicholas Wolterstorf, “The Grace That Shaped My Life,” in Philosophers Who Believe, ed. Kelly James Clark, 261.
Understandably, as she is the very living Body of “the Way, and the Truth, and the Life” Himself (Jn. 14:6).
For insightful discussions of sacred architecture, from different (though primarily Catholic) backgrounds, see “Traditional Vs. Modern Church Architecture | The Catholic Gentleman,” “Jonathan Pageau and Fr. Josiah On Sacred Architecture,” “The Secret Meaning of Catholic Church Architecture | The Catholic Talk Show,” “Theological Reasoning Behind Traditional Church Architecture,” “The History of the Liturgy 8: Church Architecture,” “A Protestant Tours an Amazing Byzantine Catholic Church.”
A lot of what I have to say in this section is wonderfully reciprocated by Bevins in chapter 2 of his book, “The Power of Liturgy,” pp. 45-64. Interestingly enough, I wrote all of the following before I ever read Bevins’ work in full!
Henry Ojating and Jane Ojating, “Incorporating Tangible Instructional Materials in Teaching and Learning: Implications for Educational Assessment and Evaluation,” International Journal of Quantitative and Qualitative Research Methods 10:1 (2022): 1-2.
Ibid., 1.
As the literature on SLL demonstrates (see here and here), typical understandings of SLL might be a bit overstated, but something does clearly happen in summer that puts kids back a bit, and at the least the backslide caused by COVID is unmistakable and an issue educators are working to overcome (on top of the general implosion of the whole public education system). What researchers in any of these phenomena will tell you is that the cause is fundamentally a long-term lack of commitment and tangible engagement with core (educational) concepts, engendering unfamiliarity, apathy, and confusion.
And often what works for children actually works for all ages.
Stieckes, “Liturgy in the Pastoral Epistles,” 47; cf. Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 48-54.
I wanted to dedicate a footnote to this because simply linking to this article wouldn’t allow me to preface it with comments: in reading this article by David Gordon I was astounded by how much of his sentiments resonated with mine, but, not just that, also how he presented excellent biblical reasoning with which to back those sentiments. I think this article is a great and instructive exercise in issues concerning liturgy, the function and life of the church, and the spirit of worship fostered therein. So please do give it a read! Go figure that Gordon also wrote an excellent book on traditional church worship and music, Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns, which is essentially a book-length version of his article (I also invite you to consider Marva Dawn’s Reaching Out Without Dumbing Down, as well as R. Scott Clark’s “Keith Getty’s Critique Of Contemporary Worship Music Is A Step In The Right Direction”).
Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 29.
Because at least Catholics still have to kneel, bow, pray, respond, confess, communicate, and even sing.
Keener, Acts, 1:807-9, and all references therein.
For an exploration of the cosmic, angelic, and liturgical themes in Revelation see Seraphim Hamilton’s “Interpreting Revelation: Liturgy, Heaven, Earth, and History.”
“As well as” given His two natures: human (earthly) and divine (heavenly).
Which the statement that the heavenly items “required better sacrifices than these” also drives home.
There might be some eschatological misunderstandings at play (particularly concerning the nature of Heaven and its “coming”), as well, but this conversation is already so deep and multifaceted I won’t dare to try and get into that now. Trust me, like a dozen other things, that will all be its own article one day.
Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 53-54.
Marvin Wilson, Our Father Abraham, 153; the last part is arguable, as the Jews did in fact have creeds (like the Shema), although I’d agree that the realities the Shema pointed towards (i.e., the special covenantal relationship Israel had with Yahweh), could’ve been seen as more ultimate than the words themselves of the creed; for more by me on creeds/confessionalism see “A Model for Christian Orthodoxy.”
Which requires us to break up our “secular” lives and reorient ourselves, rather than being able to quarantine the faith to Sundays (Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 51-53.)
All things, mind you, I’ve heard derided by lowchurchmen.
Although I don’t think this necessitates a formal excommunication. As I once heard it explained, someone who no longer attends the church has effectively excommunicated themselves, and it’d just prove redundant and inflammatory to make a formal declaration at that point (perhaps not to the faithful congregants, however). If such a person returns, in ignorance or repentance, their status in relation to the church should be delineated and they should be relegated to the narthex (if the church has, ideally, incorporated that into its architecture).
Emphasis, of course, as always, on the biblical element.