What a Biblical Liturgy Would Look Like

Five essential elements derived from Scripture.

Illustration of an English Mass from a 14th century Book of Hours.

Liturgy is a powerful instrument in Christianity’s arsenal. It brings the faith to life by making it an inescapable and tangible experience, as well as facilitating the Church’s fundamental role as the participatory intermediation of Heaven and Earth. All this and more we discussed in a previous article, the “spiritual predecessor” to this one, “The Liturgical Nature of Christianity.” In that, you may remember, we discussed the empty faith many modern Chrisitans experience (particularly the hundreds of millions in “low-church,” “Evangelical,” and otherwise “liturgically poor” congregations) and the consequences of this, as well as the biblical precedents such vacuous practices compromise. Fortunately, in a world of religious confusion and flux (as treated by Chrisitan Smith), where some are becoming incensed to pursue traditional and authentic forms of Christian religiosity
(as treated by Winfield Bevins), there is a growing push to deconstruct these artificial and consumerist edifices and (as I’ve liked wording it) go “forward to the past.”

Works on and attention given to liturgics and historic Christianity has been on the rise in recent years. Undergirded in the last century by the Liturgical Movement within Catholicism and Anglicanism (permeating later to other higher-church communities) as well as paleo-orthodoxy (as pioneered by Thomas Oden, Robert Jenson, Christopher Hall and others, among Methodism, Evangelicalism, and Presbyterianism), this greater awareness and appreciation of Christianity’s sacred tradition has spread, both across Christian academia and clergy and more recently down into laity. More people are realizing not just the importance but also the beneficence of tradition, and by extension liturgy. As potently described at the very beginning of Winfield Bevins’ work on the spread of historic traditional Christianity among youth, by the adolescent soul-searcher “Sarah Grace,” liturgy was

Intimidating and somewhat unexpected. “Singing hymns and processing through the congregation—sitting and standing at designated times—and reading corporate prayers didn’t exactly fall within my realm of comfort,” she said. “However, once I began to focus on what was being said or sung, rather than the way, it was done, the services took on a whole new meaning.” … “Suddenly,” she said,” the words of believers from thousands of years before were on my lips, ringing out as true and pure as the day they were written. I was connecting with the universal church in ways that transcended time and space, and I was deepening roots that I didn’t even realize I had. Every element of the service, from the breathtaking architecture to the ethereal choral melodies to the heartfelt recitation of the liturgy, presented me with an opportunity to bask in the transcendence of God and to respond with awestruck praise.”¹

People are realizing the power and utility of liturgy, and I believe they will constitute the sturdiest elements of Christianity in facing the tumults of modern society and all the damage it has dealt to the Church hitherto. Whether the rest of the Church will catch up before it’s too late is left to be seen.

Now, as I discussed in the other article, a whole discussion still needs to be had about what liturgy looks like (the How? versus the Where? and Why?). I pontificated page after page on the biblical precedents and realities that framed the beneficence and legality of liturgical practices in churches, but I never got to what exactly we’re supposed to do, how we put those practices into practice. Therefore, today that is the very thing I wanted to finally get around to. As I foretold then, “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.” This is precisely what I will do in this article.

To set out on this journey I believe it’d be best to tell you how I think Scripture delineates the framework for Christian liturgy without explicitly defining what that is. This understanding that I’ll advance I believe was, however implicitly, accepted by the historic Church. Anglicanism, for example, has notably incorporated the concept of “churchmanship” into its practices, tolerating and finding ways to include Anglicans who have different liturgical preferences and cultures, while some denominations, particularly the Catholics and Orthodox, have various rites/“ritual families” that have historically and organically risen up around specific communities of these churches (e.g., Tridentine, Sarum, Antiochene, Byzantine, Latin, Chrysostom vs. James, etc.). To regain or establish a liturgical rite is an endeavor that many churches will have to figure out for themselves, something which I believe the Church Catholic itself undertook historically, and thus it is to the sacred history of the Church I will begin with.

So, cognizant of the biblical precedents and realities I’ve spoken of at-length in the course of the previous article, the early Church spread out from ancient Jerusalem into the wider Mediterranean world, traveling well-established Roman sea and land routes equipped with the Gospel. As we learn throughout the Acts of the Apostles the faith was spread to numerous nations as part of missionary trips (undertaken by the likes of Paul, Barnabas, Andrew, Peter, and others). The first Christian Pentecost establishes a divine reality underpinning all this, as the Holy Spirit Himself descends on the Apostles and empowers them to begin preaching the Gospel in the languages of the diasporan Jews present in Jerusalem on that holiday (Acts 2:5-13):

Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven. And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered, because each one was hearing them speak in his own language. And they were amazed and astonished, saying, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us in his own native language? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians—we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” And all were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 

The emphasis created by listing every nation that the Jews witnessing this event were from is not unintentional or inexplicable, but is rather the fulfillment of a wonderful part of the plan of God in which the disinherited nations of Babel are recalled by God to Jerusalem (seen traditionally as the axis mundi) and are restored by God and His adopted children, regaining what they lost in their rebellion “so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance” [in Christ] (Heb. 9:15).²

Simplifying this, we see that the nations are included in God’s plans are of great import to Him, in that He gathers them (in particular, His chosen people scattered among them)³ back together and restores them to partake in the work of His eternal kingdom. The Church, both in its apostolic practices as well as its postapostolic practices, caught onto this and did its best to abide by it. So, for example, the Christian missionaries of old would go to those nations (e.g., Parthia and Media, Egypt and Libya, Crete and Arabia, so on and so forth) and establish congregations therein, building up Christendom and spreading the kingship of Christ. Since each nation had a special purpose and respect from God, the ancient Christians respected this reality, and so they established and cultivated the church at Antioch (Acts 13:1), the church at Rome (1 Pet. 5:13), the church at Jerusalem (Acts 11:22), the church at Ephesus (Rev. 2:1; cf. 2:8, 12, 18; 3:1, 7, 14), and so on and so forth, throughout the known world.⁴ As time went on and these churches developed they established unique identities, and their label as the “church at Rome” or “church at Jerusalem” became less geographical and more substantial.⁵

This selfsame development occurred when the Gospel came to England (the Anglo-Saxons) in the 7^th century AD via the mission commissioned by Gregory the Great, bishop of the church at Rome, headed by Augustine of Canterbury, an earlier Anglo-Saxon convert.⁶ The Christian missionaries established themselves, erected churches and monasteries, and made entreatments of the local Anglo-Saxon kings to either tolerate or accept their faith. The “church at England” was thus established, and accordingly Christianity began taking on an Anglo-Saxon characteristic, with classic pagan artifacts being “baptized” and cleansed of their pagan impurities (like Beowulf, Ēarendel, and the Exeter Book), a process recognized as “inculturation.” Indeed, inculturation was an established practice of the Church, one that Pope St. Gregory the Great himself approved, for as he wrote to Mellitus, a member of his mission to England and companion of Augustine:

[The] temples of the idols in that nation ought not to be destroyed; but let the idols that are in them be destroyed; let holy water be made and sprinkled in the said temples, let altars be erected, and relics placed. For if those temples are well built, it is requisite that they be converted from the worship of devils to the service of the true God; that the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed, may remove error from their hearts, and knowing and adoring the true God, may the more familiarly resort to the places to which they have been accustomed. And because they have been used to slaughter many oxen in the sacrifices to devils, some solemnity must be exchanged for them on this account, as that on the day of the dedication, or the nativities of the holy martyrs, whose relics are there deposited, they may build themselves huts of the boughs of trees, about those churches which have been turned to that use from temples, and celebrate the solemnity with religious feasting, and no more offer beasts to the Devil, but kill cattle to the praise of God in their eating, and return thanks to the Giver of all things for their sustenance; to the end that, whilst some gratifications are outwardly permitted them, they may the more easily consent to the inward consolations of the grace of God. For there is no doubt that it is impossible to efface everything at once from their obdurate minds; because he who endeavors to ascend to the highest place, rises by degrees or steps, and not by leaps. Thus the Lord made Himself known to the people of Israel in Egypt; and yet He allowed them the use of the sacrifices which they were wont to offer to the Devil, in his own worship; so as to command them in his sacrifice to kill beasts, to the end that, changing their hearts, they might lay aside one part of the sacrifice, whilst they retained another; that whilst they offered the same beasts which they were wont to offer, they should offer them to God, and not to idols; and thus they would no longer be the same sacrifices.⁷

Pagan impurities would, piece-by-piece, be deconstructed and then repurposed for holier uses, honoring God and Christ rather than false gods and idols.⁸

What this beautiful practice of the historic Church establishes is that great care was paid to different cultures, rather than these cultures being willy-nilly destroyed and subdued,⁹ and so in England, although the example repeats in every region of Christendom,¹⁰ the Church adopted a decisively Anglo-Saxon character.

If it’s not clear yet where I’m going with this it’s that this all ultimately led to the rise of what we today call, as an organized institution, the Church of England. More so an invention of the Reformation, said Reformation took off in England primarily because of English clergymen observing the basic biblical errors with Roman Catholicism (which the likes of Luther and Melanchthon had pointed out on the Continent) and then noticing how the enforcement of a Latin liturgy on the English was at odds with the national identity of England as well as their historic church (the one founded centuries earlier by Augustine’s mission). Accordingly, the English Reformers (as represented in the production of the Book of Common Prayer) expunged the Latin Mass, expunged its nonbiblical elements, and strove to produce a liturgy that more truly reflected the English character of the nation their faith was supposed to serve. 

Did they do so flawlessly? No, I wouldn’t argue that, maybe even some Anglicans would agree with that (especially considering the several revisions the BCP has gone through since), but I admire and respect them for their valiant efforts to correct errors and restore their historic identity. Each Christian brethren adopting their own form of liturgy is not only historical but biblical. As I discussed in the first article, “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.” Different peoples produce different values which creates different practices, and the Church is to, ideally, accept these differences and accommodate them, as part of the vast creativity and diversity of the human species (although this is all tempered, of course, with a commitment to orthodoxy). Greek Orthodox Christians and Russian Orthodox Christians have differences in their liturgies, more than just linguistically, yet they recognize each other and their worship as equally valid. They are considered equally valid because they both share the same essential elements, which for the Orthodox may include being in communion with Constantinople, veneration of the Theotokos, employment (and acceptance) of the ecumenical creeds, having apostolic succession amongst its dioceses, and others. 

Now, for us Protestants seeking to rediscover and restore the historic Church, what are the biblical essential elements given to us that can help shape our liturgies, despite the diverse forms they may take depending on our unique, communal/national identities? Again, I don’t intend to lay out for anyone a specific system, as if I can or there can be, although I may certainly endeavor to establish one for my own ecclesiastical practice (following, for reasons I’ve established, an Anglican template), but I will lay out the essentials, those elements that must needs be common to all to be considered licit and orthodox. As I see it, through my studying, there are five essential elements a properly biblical liturgy should have.

First, there should be a focus on biblical elements or structure within the liturgy. Now I don’t mean by this “the liturgy should be biblical” because, one, that goes without saying, and, two, what that might indicate for some is actually part of another essential element I’ll discuss. Rather, what I mean by this is that what is used during a liturgy, whether that be physical elements (hymnals, rosaries, chalices, candles, etc.) or nonphysical elements (hymns or prayers), should reflect a biblical reality. By looking at, reflecting upon, or interacting with such an instrument, someone’s mind and spirit should be directed toward the comprehension of something biblical. To understand what I mean you can think of the relics that were once located in the Jewish Temple, and what these were supposed to represent to the Israelites:

• The Ark of the Covenant, which represented both God’s covenantal loyalty to His people as well as His presence among them, with the Ark serving as the footstool of God (1 Chr. 28:2).

• The Menorah, which represented God’s light in the world, and Israel’s witness as a light to the nations (Isa. 42:6).

• The bread of the Presence/Showbread, which represented God’s provisions for His people, like the manna in the wilderness, as well as His continuous fellowship with them (as the breaking of bread at a shared table is an ancient symbol of communion).

These among other items demonstrate this fact, that not a single thing in the Temple was some futile contrivance, but played a very important role. They all served to make the Israelites aware of the higher realities at play in their religious lives as well as making those realities tangible.¹¹ This is why I find it so important for people to understand what the word “symbol[ic]” truly means, for it’s so often treated in a greatly reductive sense, especially when we call the Eucharist “just a symbol.” Nothing is “just” a symbol, and to the contrary being a symbol is a very powerful thing, for the fact many of us are ignorant of is that symbol comes from a Greek word that literally means “that which is thrown or cast together,” or, to put it another way, it’s the connection of two separate realities into one.¹² The stop sign combines the verbal injunction to “Stop!” with the physical frame of the red octagon, into one reality that commands motorists to stop their movement, and the police badge combines the insignia of the metallic piece with the authority of law enforcement to serve as a conduit/legitimator of the authority of the badgeholder. As it concerns the Eucharist, it’s the divine Pneumatic presence of Christ being “thrown together” with the earthly material presence of the bread and wine to become one reality: the consecrated Eucharist.¹³

The Christian Church has done an excellent job, historically, of doing this, creating all sorts of signs and instruments by which to symbolize the one true faith. While a lot of the ritual elements of the ancient Israelite religion have now been subsumed into the symbolism of the Eucharist, the creativity of ancient and medieval Christians was still able to proliferate and think of new wonders and relics, often focused on complementing the supreme relic of the faith. Whether the monstrance, tabernacle, altars, vestments, and other elements, Christianity has found ways to accentuate the beauty and solemnity of the Church. Even the very structure of worship can be and has been imbued with symbolism, and I mean this in multiple senses. Some traditional churches share a tripartite architectural layout with ancient roots that reflect the structure of the Temple: the outermost third, typically the narthex, represented those who couldn’t enter the presence of the holy and were yet to be admitted into the holy mysteries (for Jews, this was often the Gentiles or ritually unclean; for historic Christians, the penitents, catechumens, and nonbelievers); the central third, the nave, was where one could directly witness and partake of the true worship of God (the faithful and clean Jews, or baptized Christians); and the innermost third, the Holy of Holies, is where God directly dwelt and His divine presence descended (upon the Ark of the Covenant for Jews, within the Blessed Sacrament for Christians). Don’t forget, either, cruciform churches, those that, usually by virtue of a transept, took on the very shape of the cross. In Eastern Churches another example of the structural symbolism of liturgy can be seen in the practice of the Small and Great Entrances, solemn processions indicating important moments in the Divine Liturgy, representing different episodes of Christ’s earthly work, such as either His incarnation into the world or triumphal procession. To put this all in a single sentence, churches must suffuse their liturgies as much as they can with elements that both establish a reverent atmosphere as well as throttle a worshiper’s mind toward awareness of the holy and biblical mysteries of the faith.

Second, there should be a focus on Scripture and scriptural elements in service. This is something historic, traditional Christianity was also great at doing, yet I think it’s been neglected due to the errors of the postmodern mind not being able to fully appreciate beauty nor didactic worship. Something I’ve observed throughout my years of Protestantism is an interesting phenomenon among ex-Catholics who lamented that their experience in worship was “so confusing,” or “so mechanical,” or “lacking the Bible.” Now, Catholicism has its errors, and certainly liturgy can be mishandled, becoming rote and unedifying,¹⁴ but as I became more well-versed in and devoted to liturgics I came to realize that such complaints were quite misled, if not downright absurd. I’ve attended Catholic Masses, as well as Anglican services, and each time I’ve noticed the presence of Scripture. Do the pews often not have Bibles in them? Yes, but do the missals include plenty of quotations of Scripture, and does the priest make ready use of a lectionary system that leads the parish through the entire Bible over a three-year cycle? Yes as well. I recently attended an Anglican Ash Wednesday service, and prior to attending it two comments I’d heard from my own brethren concerning the holiday was, “Oh, we’re not Catholics, we won’t be doing any of that,” as well as, “There’s nothing in the Bible about that.” The first comment was immediately refuted by the fact I was going to an Anglican service,¹⁵ and the second by the very service itself. For example, the Collect provided by the Book of Common Prayer for use on Ash Wednesday concludes with this:

I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance, and as a mark of our mortal nature, let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.

All these are scriptural exhortations and scripturally compatible. We are in fact called to commit (in general as well as at fixed times) to prayer, fasting, self-denial, meditation on God’s word, and to confess our sins before God (1 Thess. 5:16-18; Phil. 4:6; Matt. 6:16-18; Acts 13:2-3; Lk. 9:23; Josh. 1:8; Col. 3:16; Heb. 4:12; 1. Jn. 1:9; Jas. 5:16). None of this, then, is asking us to do anything contrary to the character of our faith. Likewise, the prayer before the imposition of ashes goes as follows:

Almighty God, You have created us out of the dust of the earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is only by Your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

Is any of this not true? Are we not created of the dust of the Earth? (We are; Gen. 2:7.) Are ashes not a sign of our mortality and fallenness? (They are; Gen. 3:19; Job 30:19; Eccl. 3:20.) Are we not given the gift of everlasting life through Christ Jesus? (We are; Jn. 3:16; Rom. 6:23; 1 Jn. 5:11.) The traditional liturgies, especially the holidays, are rife with Scripture, and a truly reverent and attentive worshiper will imbibe the divine wisdom suffused through these ceremonies, meditating on and witnessing God’s word (rather than being starved of it). The other charge made against Ash Wednesday is that it’s not biblical in practice (rather than presentation), but this is also false, and directly refuted by the actual liturgy, which in the BCP has a number of daily readings, two of which are long Old Testament passages (Jl. 2:12-17; Isa. 58:1-12) that make a direct appeal to engage in public fasting and penance accompanied by ashes. Ash Wednesday is simply the Christianization of these ancient Jewish practices, centered upon the Passion of our Lord (which Lent is all about), represented most explicitly in the cruciform shape of the imposed ashes (the ashes of our sin, and the cross of our sin-bearer).¹⁶

So, this is not something liturgical Chrisitanity has lost, per se, but it’s something liturgical Christianity must retain. That’s all I’m really saying.

Third, a liturgical church should keep a focus on community. How this can be done should be quite apparent, especially from what I went over in the previous article about the character-building and identity-forming merits of liturgical practices. Consider what I said at-length concerning 1 Corinthians 12:

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:

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 (vv. 21-26).

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.

Liturgy can actually help, indelibly, create the environment of brotherhood within a congregation. As the testimony of Sarah Grace provided at the beginning of this article demonstrates, liturgical practices (such as prayer) creates a sense of continuity and connection, both within the present and across all time. This is an important point in the work of Winfield Bevins, who writes that

Liturgy offers a full, rich tradition of communal worship. While worship wars have led to division and disunity in the contemporary evangelical church, the fixed nature of liturgy and the decision to join in an existing tradition reminds us that we are part of a larger family, one that has preceded us and will still be around when we are gone. We are participating in the communion of the saints whose lineage runs from the time of Chris to the present-day church. Liturgy helps us remember that we are not independent from the body of Christ, from those who have gone before us. The Christian faith does not belong to us, as if we can change it to fit our likings and preferences.¹⁷ 

Liturgy is a cementing act, as much as it is a transcendent and humbling one. We bow before God, rise up to come before His presence, and find ourselves connected with each other as brothers and sisters in the faith. All that a church does in finding its liturgical identity should be conducive toward this reality; but in finding that identity it should also be aware that this focus has been well-ingrained within traditional liturgical practices already.

Fourth, there should be a focus on Christ and His works. Now, this goes a bit hand-in-hand with the first focus, but there is an important difference. In the first focus, in emphasizing the biblical, my intent was to make sure that biblical wisdom and teachings should take the foremost place in shaping the liturgy, i.e., that historical or cultural elements should be subordinate in their influence upon liturgy. In addition, I also wanted to make sure that liturgy maintains an all-encompassing witness to “All Scripture [being] breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). This is something that traditional liturgies do already to some extent, especially in the organization of daily readings and their sourcing as always coming from the Old Testament (or Psalter), Gospels, and Epistles. That’s what the first focus meant, in greater detail, so what this fourth one means is that all these biblical elements should, regardless of their derivation and locality, be attuned toward the supreme revelation found in Christ. Both the prayers and homilies of the liturgy and the instruments of the liturgy, they should culminate in Christ just like the Bible itself does. There are examples of this that have already been in use in the liturgies of different Christian traditions. In the Orthodox Akathist to King David the twelfth kontakion reads as follows:

Taking up his Psaltery, David the King received inspiration from the All-Holy Spirit, and chanted prophetically concerning the coming of the Messiah, Who is his descendent according to the flesh, His Baptism, His Suffering on the Cross and Death, His Resurrection and Ascension. Wherefore, obedient to His command, we chant with understanding to the Lord Who filled his mouth with praise: Alleluia!

Here the Orthodox demonstrate how the divine wisdom that filled King David, how the events of his life, all led to the Messiah, “Who is his descendant according to the flesh,” and thus when contemplating the profound writings of this ancient prophet we should keep our focus on the shadows of Christ to be seen therein. It promotes an awe for Scripture as well as biblical literacy, practical and spiritual. This can also be seen in the lectionary readings for Christ the King Sunday in the Anglican Church, which places readings from Ezekiel 34 and Psalm 95/100 alongside readings from Ephesians 1 and Matthew 25, the Old Testament texts declaring the glory and fidelity of the Lord for His people, and the New Testament texts reflecting such language to depict Christ as our glorious and loving Shepherd and King. Christ is the great Priest-King, a fulfillment of the Old Testament covenantal promises. In even better terms, liturgical practices should embody the wisdom given by St. Augustine centuries ago, that “The new is in the old concealed; the old is in the new revealed.” 

Fifth, and finally, and perhaps most contentiously, tying into all the previous focuses, especially the communal focus, I believe a biblical liturgy should make use of the lovefeast. This is a feature of Christian worship that has been widely lost, and is probably the one thing both liturgical and modernist churches share in neglecting. Now, even saying that, I must admit some residual features of this feast appear in liturgical churches; the Eastern Orthodox love their coffee hours after Divine Liturgy, the Moravians have the most well-defined continuation of this practice, and even the Catholics have some semblance of this practice especially during feast days (wherein they, y’know, feast). All churches, to some extent, at the very least, have a semiregular church-wide luncheon, although this usually is without any historic or liturgical significance, and merely seen as a voluntary and additional means of cultivating congregational koinonia. John Hicks and Paul Stutzman are two authors who are responsible for the main theological works done in recent times on the reality and nature of the lovefeast, identifying it as a genuine biblical and communal reality, but more so as a necessary reality. While I’d personally describe it as “pre-liturgical,” i.e., not being a part of a church’s liturgy proper, it still serves the function of binding the brethren together and leading them into (or out of) worship. Having a lovefeast, beyond helping to further cultivate communal bonds and identities, also will help sanctify the liturgy by providing churches with clear boundaries between what is done in reverence and what is done in unity.¹⁸ You see, because churches, especially liturgically poor ones, have such a one-dimensional spirituality and have collapsed every aspect of the faith into a one-hour segment on Sundays their ability to discern where the world begins and the church ends is eschewed (and this is often exacerbated by the lack of a narthex). We want to invite people to our churches, to experience Chrisitan love, but we all have some sense that we need to maintain some “otherness.”

Yet, how can we possibly do that when even our worship isn’t entirely our own but a rehashed Jesusification of pop rock concerts? Having the lovefeast, on the other hand, provides a fundamentally religious ceremony that is at the same time not liturgical, and while it can be a time of prayer and contemplation (as at the very least a lovefeast would be convoked by the saying of grace) it will be more so a time of community, allowing for people to experience the faith without transgressing it. In a way, we can think of the lovefeast and the liturgy proper (particularly the Eucharistic service) as paralleling the two traditional liturgical orientations in Christianity. Versus populum, or praying toward the people, is the lovefeast, the public provision of charity and fraternity to the people of God, while ad orientem, prayer toward the East,¹⁹ is the special and sacred worship of the Heavenly Father in His earthly temple. While, as ancient penitents and pagans once did, church visitors can spectate from the narthex, they won’t participate, but if the beauty of the liturgy, the good of the congregation, and the truth of the faith all come together to convict them they can be driven toward participation by wanting to be baptized. Discussing the lovefeast and even defending it is an undertaking in and of itself, so I won’t digress too much from this article and will leave it here, but suffice to say this is absolutely something I’ll have to return to in the future.

All in all, these five elements establish guidelines that could guide all Christians in contemplating the best way to honor God using the behaviors and concepts they know best. Rather than flattening everything out through a sort of liturgical imperialism (as the regulative principle and Tridentine Mass enabled), human diversity and creativity is recognized and enabled, with distinct cultural/national identities establishing unique Christian worldviews that are instantiated within liturgical practices (as happened, and as was discussed, with the Anglican churches). No matter what the differences and distinctions are, if they are driven and framed by these five principal elements I believe God will be sufficiently honored and the worship will be efficaciously reverent, inspiring biblical, communal, ethical, artistic, and spiritual edification within the hearts and minds of every worshiper. I want to leave this all very hands off (laissez-faire!) because, clearly, spontaneous order created incredible works of art throughout Christian history²⁰ and I strongly accept that it could continue to do so in the future. We must, however, strive to restore a liturgical environment, one that is truly and appropriately reverent, so we don’t fall into the error (even of some neoliturgical churches) of “praise-and-worship-in-vestments.” Once we effectively “go forward to the past” in our congregations, however, I believe we will have the culture, mindset, and environment²¹ these basic elements can be put to good use and effect a wondrous revival of church life, culture, and mentality. One day shall we sing, and reflect, the ancient words of the Te Deum hymn:

We praise Thee, O God: we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.

All the earth doth worship Thee: the Father everlasting.

Amen.

1. Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 15-16.

2. On this and much more concerning the meaning of Pentecost/Acts 1-2 I invite you to see episodes 35, 36, and 37 of Dr. Michael Heiser’s podcast series.

3. Indeed, the very reason for Israel’s chosen status was not an intrinsic elevation of them over other humans, but an extrinsic consecration of them as God’s covenantal witnesses to His coming Messiah (cf. Isa. 42:6; 46:13 49:6; 60:3).

4. There are many wonderful books on the zealous and steadfast spread of Christianity in the ancient world. I recommend, from personal experience, Rodney Stark, The Triumph of Christianity.

5. On the ancient Christian tradition of vernacular/national churches see Kaleb of Atlanta, “Vernacular as the Orthodox Patristic Tradition.”

6. Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People.

7. Bede, Ecclesiastical History, 92.

8. Much of this would later lead to Protestant writers condemning the Catholic Church as “pagan” and “syncretic,” as if they weren’t using much of the same practices that arose first only because of inculturation.

9. Arguably, yes, this didn’t happen with the missions to the New World centuries afterwards, but this can be more blamed on the fact that imperialistic, more than evangelistic, tendencies underlied the exploration of the New World, this time period postdating the rise of the modern nation-state and absolutism. Patiently incorporating pagan cultures was too slow and bulky for burgeoning empires that needed the natural resources and untapped labor ASAP. See Murray N. Rothbard, Conceived in Liberty, vols. 1-4, 3-39; Ryan McMaken, “‘Humanitarianism’ as an Excuse for Colonialism and Imperialism.”

10. See, for a broad survey, the aforementioned article by Kaleb of Atlanta, and for a specific example Celtic Christianity.

11. As you might remember from the article on liturgics, the Israelite religion had a strong emphasis on tangibility and active remembrance.

12. Jonathan Pageau is a huge proponent and educator on the “higher realities” of symbolism.

13. Richard Barcellos, The Lord’s Supper as a Means of Grace.

14. Usually because of a lack of creativity or a small touch of extemporaneity that I discussed in the other article.

15. Ash Wednesday is officially or voluntarily observed by Catholics, Anglicans, Lutherans (primarily), and some Methodists, Baptists, Western Rite Orthodox, Reformed churches, and others.

16. You can read through the Ash Wednesday liturgy in the BCP here, and learn about the historical and biblical roots of the holiday here and here.

17. Winfield Bevins, Ever Ancient, Ever New, 38, cf. 55-56, emphasis mine.

18. As a side note, when I’ve talked to people, or heard others talk, about giving invitations to church one of the common sources of hesitation I’ve noticed is both unfamiliarity as well as formality. People aren’t familiar with the congregants nor with the formal practices, so they don’t want to be awkward, insulting, or uncomfortable. What I’ve suggested routinely is for people to go to non-liturgical settings first, such as those church luncheons I mentioned (in the absence of a lovefeast) or even a charitable fundraiser. This will get you in the same room as the churchmen, but you won’t have to worry about the “religious stuff,” yet. As you keep reading, you’ll see how I envision the lovefeast as precisely this bridge to the outside world.

19. The symbolism of the East adopted a number of significances to early Christians, from it being toward the general direction of Jerusalem, the orientation of the ancient Temple, to being where the Second Coming of Christ was believed to begin from (see Matt. 24:27). More generically, however, the East became subordinate to what was at the eastern end of the church, which was typically the Eucharist or some iconographic depiction of God’s presence. I.e., worship ad orientem was worship ad Deum, with the liturgy seen as being a performance done for God rather than for the laity. I do want to state, however, in pursuit and respect for my principle of creativity and diversity in liturgics, that neither liturgical orientation is required, and in this instance I’m using it as a metaphorical clarification for the lovefeast. Personally, I vibe with ad orientem, but I’m fine to participate in liturgical traditions that are versus populum, as I understand and respect the symbolism present in them as well.

20. Even when, for the most part, that was shackled to the centralized sovereign will of the Vatican.

21. Buttressed and manifested in sundry ways, such as architecturally, artistically, rhetorically, communally, mentally, etc.