WORSHIP

A PRIMER IN CHRISTIAN RITUAL

Keith F. Pecklers, S. J.

THE LITURGICAL PRESS

Collegeville, Minnesota
www.litpress.org
 For Veronica and Jack Kehoe
with love and gratitude

First published in the United States of America

and in Canada by the
LITURGICAL PRESS
St John's Abbey, Collegeville,
Minnesota 56321

Reprinted 2005

© Keith F. Pecklers, S.J., 2003

Published by arrangement with
Continuum International Publishing Group Ltd,
11 York Road, London, SE1 7NX, United Kingdom

ISBN 0-8146-2985-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form,
by print, microfilm, microfiche, mechanical recording, photocopying,
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 Contents

Introduction iv

1 Worship and Ritual 1

Explores the context of Christian worship in the wider arena of
human rituals and patterned ritual behavior
2 Worship in Development and Decline 33
Traces the earliest historical foundations of the Church's liturgi-
cal life and worship's gradual distancing from the laity in the
Medieval Period
3 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 67
Examines the liturgical reforms of the Sixteenth Century
Reformation and the Roman Catholic Response in the Council of
Trent which inaugurated new liturgical developments
4 Worship in Transition 91
Presents the work of the twentieth-century pioneering efforts of
the Liturgical Movement and the movement's eventual vindica-
tion in the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council
5 Worship and Culture 117
Defends the importance of contextualized, inculturated worship as
an essential ingredient for its credibility
6 Worship and Popular Religion 139
Discusses the tensions between popular devotions and liturgy
with special attention to Latin American popular religiosity as a
fundamental instrument in human liberation
7 Worship and Society 163
Advocates a more socially oriented worship where the link
between liturgy and human solidarity in works of justice is both
intrinsic and self-evident
8 Worship and the Future of Christianity 193
Raises some difficult questions about the future of Christian wor-
ship in a postmodern ethos with a host of new social problems and
declining church attendance
Conclusion 213
References and Bibliography 217
Index 225
 Introduction

As a field of study, worship or liturgy is still relatively new -

barely forty years old - and has come to include disciplines of
art and architecture, anthropology, linguistic studies, psy-
chology, semiotics and sociology as Jewish or Christian com-
munities study and discern just what happens when they
gather together for common prayer. Recently, the discipline
of liturgies has been further enriched by new insights
gleaned from multicultural studies and Christian feminism.
The field of worship is quite vast, indeed ...
This text is one attempt to answer the question: 'What is
worship?' While the first chapter deals with that question
more generally, the rest of the book addresses the question in
the context of Christian worship. Although I write as a
Roman Catholic - and there are numerous examples from
that ecclesial communion - the book is deliberately written
with an ecumenical audience in mind. Indeed, I am convinced
that Roman Catholic worship would be vastly improved upon
if only we would heed the liturgical example offered in certain
Anglican and Lutheran churches. A mere visit to Cambridge
or Oxford for Anglican Evensong proves the point - to date,
Roman Catholicism has no viable equivalent. But aside from
taking liturgical lessons from one another's churches, the
issue of ecumenical liturgical 'bridge-building' is vital as we
move into a new century and a new millennium, desiring ever
more ardently to live faithfully together as one body of Christ.
 Introduction v

The book is essentially divided into two sections. The first

part (Chapters 1 to 4) presents the necessary historical/theo-
logical foundations for understanding just how we arrived
liturgically where we are today. Chapter 1 considers ritual
and worship as it emerges within human life, drawing exam-
ples from secular rituals and ritual behavior in such contexts.
Chapter 2 treats the evolution of Christian worship 'in devel-
opment and decline'. The important liturgical developments
of the early Church and patristic period gradually give way to
decline in the Middle Ages, especially regarding lay partici-
pation in the worship act. Chapter 3 explores the crisis of the
Reformation and the Roman Catholic Church's challenge to
reform its own life and worship at the Council of Trent. Post-
Tridentine issues are also considered such as the eighteenth
century Synod of Pistoia which argued for many of the litur-
gical reforms later seen at the Second Vatican Council
(1962-65). Chapter 4 presents the agenda of the twentieth
century liturgical movement and its proposed goals, along
with an exposition of the liturgical reforms discussed and
approved at the Second Vatican Council.
Chapter 5 introduces more thematic material with a con-
sideration of liturgical inculturation and the importance of
worship that is contextualized according to the particular
community gathered to celebrate. Chapter 6 looks at socio-
logical issues around popular religiosity in its relationship to
liturgy. In Latin America, for example, processions and pil-
grimages empower participants and offer them hope in the
midst of their oppression. Worship does not always succeed in
doing the same, and so tensions between popular religiosity
and worship remain. Chapter 7 argues in favor of worship
that is deeply connected to the plight of human society and
its call for justice. By its very nature, authentic worship flows
into daily life and commits itself to be in solidarity with the
joys and struggles of the local community and, indeed, of the
entire human family. Chapter 8 raises some serious ques-
vi Introduction

tions about the future of worship and the future of the

Church itself. In the next twenty to thirty years, the church-
es will have some important choices to make about how we
worship, who leads us, who is 'worthy' to participate, and
how that corporate prayer connects to the rest of life. All bib-
lical quotations used in this book are taken from the New
Revised Standard Version (Oxford University Press).
I am most grateful to the Reverend Frank Herrmann, S.J.,
Rector of the Jesuit Community at Boston College and to the
Jesuit Institute at B.C. for inviting me to come as a visiting
scholar in 2002 and providing me with the resources and assis-
tance successfully to complete work on this manuscript. Special
thanks to the Institute's Director, Professor T. Frank Kennedy,
S.J., and to its Director Emeritus, Professor Michael J. Buckley,
S.J. for their welcome. During my sabbatical I was joined at the
Institute by two colleagues, Professor Michael A. Zampelli, S.J.
of Santa Clara University, California, and Professor Catherine
Cornille of the College of the Holy Cross, Worcester,
Massachusetts. Their helpful insights are much appreciated.
I am indebted to the administrative staff of the Jesuit Institute,
Patricia Fleming and Laura Kelly, for their extraordinary gen-
erosity towards me and their humour. One of the highlights of
my time at Boston College was living with my Jesuit brothers
at Roberts House: to Jaime Badiola, Bob Earth, Charbel
Batour, Michael Buckley, Julio Giulietti, David Hollenbach, Bill
Neenan, Gerry O'Brien, John Paris, Don Plocke, and Steve
Schloesser, my heartfelt thanks. Life at Roberts House was
made all the more pleasant by the presence of its cook, Deborah
Fernandez, for whom cooking is both ritual and art. I wish to
express my gratitude to Robin Baird Smith at Continuum,
London, for extending the invitation to write this text and his
gracious assistance in seeing it through to publication. Finally,
to my mother and brother, my deepest gratitude for all their
love and support.
 1
Worship and Ritual
Introduction

The concept of worship is as old as the Church itself, with its

roots firmly planted in ancient Judaism, but it was only in
the twentieth century that it came into its own as a field of that
study within theology. In Roman Catholic circles prior to the
Second Vatican Council (1962-65), worship (or liturgy as it is
commonly called) was often associated with rubrics - those
red notes in missals and other liturgical books which instruct
ministers about how to perform the Church's rituals - the
liturgical choreography. In fact, in many cases - at least prior
to the Second Vatican Council in the Roman Catholic context
- worship became enslaved to rubrics. No particular training
was required for the teaching of liturgy in seminaries since
the one course offered in the curriculum involved little more
than teaching how to celebrate Mass and the other sacra-
ments. For Roman Catholic seminary students, there was
great emphasis on the validity of the sacrament - that the
priests celebrate a Valid' Mass, for example. Those rubrics,
instituted at the Council of Trent (1545-63), were hardly a
tonic for the overly scrupulous who often spent more time
worrying about whether or not they got it right (repeating
the liturgical formulas until they were convinced they did)
than praying the Mass itself. Today, it is not difficult to
understand why Protestant observers strongly criticised
such ritual behaviour, less than convinced that this was what
Jesus had in mind at the origins of Christianity
Happily, the situation changed in the twentieth century
thanks to great ecumenical progress and a certain cross-
2 Worship

fertilization that evolved. As liturgical scholars of the 1930s

and 1940s returned to early Patristic sources, they discov-
ered the same liturgical foundations. Thus, the liturgical
movements in the different churches took on a similar agen-
da and promoted a more unified liturgical renewal, albeit
with diverse nuances and emphases. Those in the pews, how-
ever, were not as quick to accept the reforms and were often
supported by their clergy. In the early 1950s when the US
Benedictine liturgical journal Orate Fratres considered
changing its name to an English title: Worship, numerous
Letters to the Editor were received contending that 'worship'
was 'a Protestant term' not useful for Roman Catholics. And
as German Catholics led the way for the US liturgical move-
ment with strong emphasis on hymn-singing which had been
the Bavarian tradition even prior to the Sixteenth Century
Reformation, Irish Catholics vehemently objected with the
claim that hymn-singing was for Protestants. For their part,
Catholics had the Rosary and other devotions to occupy them
as Mass was 'said' quietly by the priest. Others accused litur-
gical pioneers of 'Protestantizing' the Catholic Mass - even
of denying belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the
Eucharist because they advocated full and active liturgical
participation in the vernacular. Critics of the liturgical
renewal argued that to use Latin meant to be Catholic, and
the removal of Latin within Catholic worship would be tan-
tamount to the abolition of Catholic doctrine. This was the
argument against vernacular worship voiced by Los Angeles'
Cardinal James Mclntyre at the Second Vatican Council.
Misunderstandings were not limited to Roman Catholics. On
the Protestant side, more frequent Eucharistic celebrations
in their churches along with the use of incense and the wear-
ing of certain liturgical vesture were regarded by some as
being too Catholic or 'popish' and therefore resisted with a
vengeance: 'Catholics have the Mass, but we have the Bible
and the Sermon.'
 Worship and Ritual 3

Despite such obstacles, however, the journal Orate Fratres

did become Worship, singing became normative in Catholic
parishes, and the principle of full and active participation
was promoted with its emphasis on worship in the vernacu-
lar which Anglicans and Protestants had done for centuries.
The Second Vatican Council changed the face of worship not
only for Roman Catholics but for all Christians, as it influ-
enced the ways in which they interacted liturgically for the
foreseeable future. Today, more frequent celebrations of
Sunday Eucharist are increasingly common in mainline
Protestant churches and when they do celebrate the
Eucharist, it is not unusual to find the president vested in alb
and stole and even the chasuble or outer garment. Some
Protestant churches have adopted the imposition of ashes for
the inauguration of the annual fast of Lent - a practice which
would have been unthinkable before the Second Vatican
precisely because it was too 'Catholic'. We have come a very
long way indeed, and we have made that journey together.
Moreover, thanks to the ecumenical, patristic, and biblical
movements of the twentieth century, liturgical scholars from
the different churches have found their own unified voice in
such ecumenical academies as the International Societas
Liturgica and the North American Academy of Liturgy. At
the heart of ecumenical liturgical research has been a recov-
ery of our worship's symbolic richness inherent therein.

The Transformative Power of Symbol and Ritual

Symbols convey many meanings; they are multivalent. The
symbol of water, for example, means many different things to
different people. It slakes our thirst in the heat of summer
and refreshes our bodies as we swim in pools and lakes. But
that same symbol can also mean death and destruction in the
case of floods or drowning. Thus, symbols carry different
functions depending on the context. Christian worship is
4 Worship

replete with archetypal symbols of light and darkness; bread

and wine; water and oil; fire; and bodily acts of standing,
kneeling, bowing, eating and drinking. As these natural sym-
bols are transformed within the liturgy they take on a deep-
er significance for those who gather.
But twentieth century technological and scientific advances
have made our capacity for symbolic living an ever-greater
challenge. This was already observed in 1964 by German
liturgical pioneer Romano Guardini in a letter addressed to
the Third German Liturgical Congress at Mainz. In lament-
ing the problems of rampant individualism within modern
society, he raised questions about the human person's capa-
city to engage in 'the liturgical act' at all. This was because of
an ever-greater divide between symbol and ritual - liturgy
itself - and the modern, analytic world which pushed in the
opposite direction. In the intervening years the problem has
become worse rather than better and today, Guardini's ques-
tions are especially poignant. In this postmodern age, ours is
a literal, analytic culture which responds easily to concrete
signs. Unlike more complex symbols, functional signs tend to
be clear and direct, conveying information, instruction, and
precise directives: 'Stop!', * Go!', 'You have Mail!' - and our
technological advances fit perfectly into such a framework.
Western culture, moreover, increasingly opts in favor of
expediency, leading to symbolic and ultimately liturgical
impoverishment: showers replace baths, fast food replaces
real dining, keeping ourselves busy with work or the internet
replaces genuine leisure and experiences of true human com-
munion. The truth be told, most of us live within a culture
which settles for 'the bottom line' when it comes to accom-
plishing tasks or meeting requirements, and this kind of
mentality can easily creep into our attitude towards Sunday
worship as well. Some Roman Catholic parishes sing fewer
verses of hymns at Sunday Mass 'because singing all the
verses takes too much time'. The same argument is used for
 Worship and Ritual 5

not inviting the laity to drink from the chalice at Holy

Communion because it's not 'practical', or not using incense
on Sundays, not inviting moments of silence after the les-
sons, or not teaching congregations how to chant the respon-
sorial psalm. Ironically, just as some churches abandon
incense, it is being sold quite successfully on the streets of
London, Paris, Rome and New York. Meanwhile, compact
discs of chant are finding a home among the young, such as
the popular CD Chant produced by the Spanish Benedictine
monks of Silos several years ago. These tensions along with
the abandonment of certain liturgical practices in favour of
that which is most expedient present significant obstacles to
symbolic living, and weaken our appreciation of ritual's func-
tion in life.
Like symbol, ritual itself carries a variety of interpretations
and meanings; some of these meanings compete within the
same liturgical celebration. Indeed, a mere survey of how
anthropologists and sociologists define ritual suggests some-
thing of its complexity. Regardless of how one defines it, how-
ever, ritual is essential to human life and holds a particular
function within society. It both preserves cultural traditions
and bridges transitions, leading to change in the community.
Some rituals are cyclical, like celebrations of birthdays and
anniversaries, festivals of Christmas, the ending of Ramadan,
or Passover, or the weekly cycle of Sunday worship. Other rit-
uals are about demarcation and transition. Called 'rites of
passage', these liminal or threshold experiences mark the
movement of the individual from one status to another. Here,
the work of anthropologists like Arnold van Gennep and
Victor Turner has been most helpful. Human life, by its very
nature, is about separation and reunion; exclusion and inclu-
sion; abnegation and risk; and death and rebirth, and we have
rituals to mark those movements. To live is to change, these
anthropologists remind us. We move from one stage of life to
another: from youth to adulthood to old age; from school to
6 Worship

full-time employment; from the single life to vowed commit-

ment; from work to retirement. Along with anthropology, the
area of semiotics has offered its own helpful contribution as
we explore what worship and its signs communicate and how
that communication functions. Here the work of semioticians
and ritual analysts like Ronald Grimes and Catherine Bell has
made an important contribution.
Ritual is intimately linked with the body, and movement
plays a crucial role. Seen as a pilgrimage, life offers its own
rituals of departure (leave-taking), the journey with its
inherent risks, and eventual arrival. Within such a context,
anthropological and sociological research has brought about
a new way of understanding Jewish and Christian rites of
passage such as those of Christian Initiation (Baptism,
Confirmation, Eucharist), bar mitzvah celebrations, matri-
mony, ordination, religious profession, and anointing of the
sick. Other life-cycle rituals present within many different
religions and cultural groups could also be included here:
quincinera rituals within the Mexican community; commit-
ment ceremonies; blessings of a pregnant woman; rituals in
the case of miscarriage; anniversaries and retirement rituals;
and funeral liturgies and so forth.
The Puritans were suspicious of ritual, preferring the spo-
ken word along with their preference for conscious over
unconscious, mind over body, and individual over communi-
ty. But liturgy is about ritual and the non-verbal wherein the
meaning is discovered in the action. The late Mark Searle
suggests that perhaps this is how the Roman Rite was able to
survive for centuries even despite a liturgical language which
few members of the laity could understand. And when Latin
was translated into the vernacular, it might also explain why
such translations failed to achieve 'the immediate hoped for
effect'. Searle observes: 'When ritual is subject to discursive
analysis and theological evaluation, it is always more than
words can tell.'(Jones: 1992, p. 57)
 Worship and Ritual 1

In exploring human rituals and their diverse symbolic

meanings we can delineate four distinguishing elements.
Ritual is firstly a learned behaviour in which the tradition is
communicated. Secondly, this ritual behaviour is repetitive,
reinforcing that which is learned. Thirdly, it is interactive or
interpersonal, renewing both individual and community.
Fourthly, it leads from one place to the next and is normally
directed towards particular values which are upheld by that
particular community. Even when rituals are done separate-
ly, they normally correspond to the shared ritual behaviour
and vision of the group.
Allow me to provide an example. Recently, I had the oppor-
tunity to observe a ritual of initiation - a secular rite but with
great similarities to religious ceremonial. There was an
assembly and there were leaders; all present were formally
attired. Those to be initiated were called forth one by one,
and each candidate's biography was read so that the assem-
bly might know who it was about to welcome; the rite of ini-
tiation followed. The highest-ranking member present - the
Bailli - placed a sword over the right shoulder of the candi-
date and with hand outstretched pronounced the formula of
initiation. Although the event took place in Boston, the
induction was pronounced in French, as is the tradition of
the group. The new member was then officially greeted and
welcomed by the Bailli as the assembly applauded.
Immediately afterwards, the newcomer moved to a side table
and was offered to eat of 'the Golden Goose' and to drink a
glass of fine red wine. That table of welcome was ministered
by one of the vice-chancellors who properly carved the goose
for each of the newly initiated and then offered the glass of
wine. A sumptuous banquet followed for all present at which
many greeted the newly initiated and offered their personal
congratulations. The event was the annual induction of the
Confrerie de la Chaine des Rotisseurs - a distinguished soci-
ety of chefs, restaurant owners, and other lovers of food and
8 Worship

wine; the group traces its origins to the thirteenth century

when it was founded in France during the reign of Louis IX
as the Guild of Goose Roasters. Each local chapter identifies
itself with the larger international society which is active in
more than one hundred countries, and, logically, the head-
quarters of the organization are located in France - the culi-
nary capital of the world.
The exposition and examination of such rituals can be
helpful as we try to understand Christian worship and its
functionality. That ritual of culinary induction mentioned
above involved learned behaviour. With the exception of
myself and several other visitors, all members of that assembly
had undergone the same ritual in the presence of others. The
four neophytes that evening had previously witnessed the
same; now it was their turn. Secondly, the ritual was repeti-
tive. It is repeated every year and, in fact, is celebrated in a
virtually identical fashion throughout the world in other
chapters of the Confrerie de la Chaine. Thirdly, it was inter-
personal and renewing both for the newcomers and also for
those who had been members for years. Finally, it offered its
own 'rite of passage' not only for those four individuals who
moved from exclusion to inclusion, from non-membership to
membership, but for the entire society whose membership
increased by four because of that ritual.
Church leaders and scholars of the late nineteenth or early
twentieth centuries would have found such an example per-
plexing at best. Christian worship was religious - necessarily
about things divine - and secular events such as the Chaine
dinner were a completely different matter with nothing to
offer the study of worship. It was only in the mid- to late-
twentieth century as the field of liturgies evolved that scholars
came to recognize the important contribution of the social
sciences to its own academic discipline, and what could be
learned from anthropology, psychology, sociology, and semi-
otics. By the late 1960s, the newly implemented reforms of
 Worship and Ritual 9

the Second Vatican Council were already receiving mixed

results. On the one end of the spectrum there was the desire
to experiment with the reforms. But since little formation or
catechetical assistance was available - even for bishops -
those experiments were largely uneven. On the other end
were those who strongly opposed the reforms; some in that
camp accused Pope Paul VI of having destroyed Roman
Catholic worship forever. Emotional outbursts were not
uncommon on either side. How to respond to a new sociolog-
ical reality? The world and, indeed, the Church had changed,
and it was no longer sufficient to rely solely on theology or
history; something new was needed - the social sciences.
Late-twentieth century research in ritual studies also
revealed liturgy's poetic dimension, especially with regard to
the translation of liturgical texts. It was no longer sufficient
merely to translate sacred texts from Latin into the vernac-
ular. By its very nature, language is a living entity which
evolves with the passage of time; therefore, if liturgical texts
were to speak to the contemporary world, those texts would
need to be crafted with the help of poets and linguists. In
making their own contribution, liturgical texts would better
be able to communicate dynamically with those who would
pray and proclaim those texts today. Thanks to scholarship
in this area, we now recognize with clarity that liturgy is an
art form which plumbs the depth of human emotions.
Indeed, as believers gather together Sunday after Sunday to
hear God's Word and share at God's table, they recognize and
identify their own joys and struggles in all that the Christian
liturgy proclaims prophetically. And we tap into worship's
prophetic character through the door of ritual and the sym-
bolic; there, our non-verbal gestures (even more than our
spoken words) communicate who the body of Christ is and
what it stands for. In so doing, the words of Luke's
Magnificat are fulfilled: the poor become rich and the rich
are considered no better than the poor. In a postmodern cul-
10 Worship

ture where the elderly and the handicapped, immigrants and

the homeless are treated as insignificant, those same indi-
viduals are reverenced in Christ's worship as they are sprin-
kled with refreshing water, bowed to and incensed, anointed
with holy oil, touched and embraced, and fed with holy food
and drink. Such privileged treatment is only possible in
God's reign of which the liturgical assembly is an image.
Clearly, this involves more than the verbalization of our
doctrine or the communication of holy knowledge. It is about
gestures and symbols which speak more profoundly than our
words - sensual worship which reveals to us the depths of
God's mercy in ways that we never could have imagined. The
widely acclaimed film Babette's Feast (1987) offers an inter-
esting example, and has a great deal to say to Christian wor-
ship. Set in nineteenth-century Denmark, the film presents
two sisters, Martina and Philippa, whose father was a revered
pastor of a small, tightly knit Protestant community in a
coastal town. Despite many opportunities to leave the village,
the sisters choose to remain with their father and serve that
community. Life proceeded normally until one day a political
refugee from the French Revolution - Babette - arrived, beg-
ging for lodging and promising to serve as housekeeper and
cook. Sometime after the father's death, the two sisters
decided to host a celebration to commemorate the 100th
anniversary of their father's birth, as he was the communi-
ty's founder. Having won the French lottery, Babette insists
that she cook the meal. The sisters agree, although secretly
they harbour some reservations as she was both Catholic and
a foreigner. What follows is an extraordinarily sensuous ban-
quet with rich foods and fine wines. During the meal, to
everyone's surprise, one of the guests recognizes Babette as
the famous chef from the Cafe Anglais in Paris. That
Puritanical community is initially scandalized at the lavish-
ness of the feast since theirs was a sober and stoic religion
with little room for frivolity or excess. Scandal gives way to
 Worship and Ritual 11

joy, however, as community members begin to reconcile with

one another for past grievances and clearly live differently as
a result. Babette, a refugee, becomes an image of God and
provides a glimpse of God's reign. She transforms the lives of
the sisters, provides food and drink for the guests, and the
life of the entire community is changed for the better.
Babette's Feast overflows with symbolic imagery and is
instructive as we consider worship's symbolic power, espe-
cially within the Eucharistic context. But we cannot tap into
that richness merely through intellect and will; we need
poets and artists to assist us. Western society has much to
learn from the East in this regard, for the East teaches us
about the power of symbols to speak in all their simplicity.
Words fail to capture their depth and power to transform. A
visit to a Zen garden in Japan conveys this power most elo-
quently. Christian worship is radically different from Zen
Buddhism, of course, but Zen's attention to the non-verbal
and to silence can be formative as we recover Christian litur-
gy's poetic and symbolic function.
The religious concept of pilgrimage itself offers its own rit-
ual structure. This is the case whether we are speaking of the
Islamic Hajj to Mecca, the ecumenical pilgrimage to
Walsingham in England, or the Road to Compostela in
Galicia, Spain. Pilgrims are offered the experience of cathar-
sis, leading them symbolically from one world to another
with all the inherent risks of the journey (denial, abnegation,
risk), with moments for healing and conversion along the
way. Pilgrimage reminds us that ritual is fundamentally
about the body - both the individual body and the collective
body. On such journeys, pilgrims express their faith and con-
victions through movement. They walk alone and yet togeth-
er, conscious of the presence of their companions and of their
identity both individually and communally. Together, they
form part of this or that particular pilgrimage or procession
and from that common road, pilgrims take their individual
12 Worship

identities. As they walk the road together they often share

the same food and lodging whether one is a pauper or an aris-
tocrat. Equality is the operative principle, and individual
identity is drawn from the group.
This remains true when applied to Christian worship. As
ritual, liturgy is fundamentally about the body. Together the
mystical body of Christ claims its corporate identity through
a common movement. From that corporate body, the individ-
ual claims her or his unique identity; such identification
begins not with the individual but rather with the corporate
body Put differently, liturgical participants 'subordinate'
their individuality for the sake of the common movement of
the joint body. On pilgrimage, the individual might well know
a different route to reach the destination; perhaps the route
is even more direct. But that individual forfeits the tempta-
tion to take the detour for the sake of the group. The same
holds true for Christian worship, especially in considering
whether or not one chooses to absent herself or himself from
the Sunday service and pray separately. Such individualism
is forfeited for the good of the wider Christian assembly
which depends on the presence of that individual. And it is in
that holy assembly that the believer claims her identity as
'Christian' - member of the mystical body of Christ.
For the Christian community, praying in common is a non-
negotiable and those who do not pray in common with the
rest of the body of Christ cannot rightly call themselves
'Christian'. They might well be very generous, inspired by
the life and ministry of Jesus Christ and trying to do the
right thing in life, but if they never pray in common with
other Christians, they cannot claim that identity. This is not
intended as a harsh exclusion; it is a simple statement of fact.
Some religions leave room for or even encourage the individ-
ual pursuit of religion apart from the group; Christianity is
not one of them. So the pilgrimage of Christian life is pur-
sued together as one body and liturgy - common worship -
 Worship and Ritual 13

lies at its heart. We see this in the 'Letter to the Hebrews'

which speaks of the Christian life as a liturgical procession -
ascending and descending with members of the one body of
Christ moving together toward the reign of God

Defining Liturgy
The Greek word leitourgia means literally, ergon: 'work' and
litos: 'belonging to the people'. In secular circles, it was iden-
tified both with common, public projects done for the good of
the community and also with the particular public office with
which one became involved. Gradually, in Greek society the
term came to be associated with all sorts of acts of service -
acts of kindness to a friend or neighbour, or even tasks done
by slaves for their masters. It was in the second century that
the term also came to be associated with worship. This civic
term which we might equate today with 'public service' was
also used in ancient Judaism, but in a more restrictive way.
Nonetheless, the term appears 170 times in the Septuagint
(the Greek version of the Hebrew Scriptures) as a way of
describing religious rituals offered by priests and levites.
Perhaps it was employed because it seemed the most appro-
priate way of describing an official function or act done by
the religious leaders on behalf of the people. In the Christian
scriptures the term appears less frequently - only fifteen
times - but is more varied in usage. Leitourgia, for example,
is used to describe a civic function of public servants
(Romans 13:6), Christians' spiritual offering of themselves
(Romans 15:16), Christ's sacrificial offering (Hebrews 8:2),
and finally the ritual celebrations of Christians at Antioch
(Acts 13:2).
This borrowing of concepts or terminology should not sur-
prise us since, for the most part, Christian worship evolved
out of already existing ritual structures. While there are
numerous examples of significant links between Jewish and
14 Worship

early forms of Christian worship, we also find cultural bor-

rowing in language, customs, and symbols from the Graeco-
Roman culture. Early Christians appropriated and adapted
those cultural elements as well, by assigning each a new sig-
nificance and interpretation to suit its own purposes.
Regarding the Jewish-Christian relationship, we must be
careful not to jump to conclusions in showing direct causal
links. This is the case, for example, in considering the rela-
tionship between Jewish and Christian baptism. Honest
scholarship in this area often leaves us with more questions
than answers. Christians of that early period were keen to
establish their own identity which would have been impeded
were they simply to incorporate and adapt Jewish liturgical
practices too quickly and fully. Unique to Christian worship
was an ever-greater emphasis on the cross and its salvific role.
Gradually, leitourgia came to signify both the service of God
and the service of the community offering an early clue to the
important rapport between liturgy and charily. By the fourth
century, Eastern Christians used this term exclusively in refer-
ence to the Eucharist, 'The Divine Liturgy', as continues to be
the case today. We see this in the liturgies of Saints Basil the
Great, John Chrysostom and Mark for example. In the West,
terms like 'divine work' or 'divine office' were used in place of
leitourgia until the sixteenth century, when it was introduced
thanks to the influence of the humanists. It was adopted by
some of the churches of the Reformation in the seventeenth
century, and was introduced into Catholic literature during the
eighteenth by the first wave of liturgical scholars, who used the
term more broadly to refer to all the Church's sacraments. It
was not until the pontificate of Pope Gregory XVI (+1846),
however, that the term was used in official documents of the
Roman Church. Later, it appeared in the 1917 Code of Canon
Law wherein it was stated that the Holy See was responsible
both for the ordering of the Church's liturgy and the approba-
tion of its liturgical books (Canon 1257, Adam: 1985, pp. 2-4).
 Worship and Ritual 15

As the twentieth century evolved, thanks to usage of the

term 'liturgy' within the liturgical movement, it became a
more normative term in the Church's standard vocabulary.
In 1947 with Pope Pius XII's promulgation of Mediator Dei,
the Roman Catholic Church's first encyclical on the liturgy,
the term is defined as: The public worship which our
Redeemer as head of the Church renders to the Father, as
well as the worship which the community of the faithful ren-
ders to its Founder, and through him to the heavenly Father.
In short, it is the worship rendered by the Mystical Body of
Christ in the entirety of its head and members' (no. 25, Acta
Apostolicae Sedis 39, (1949), 528-9). This concept of the
Church as the 'mystical body of Christ' is ancient and can be
traced back to Saint Augustine of Hippo and even earlier to
Saint Paul's letters (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:12ff). It is signifi-
cant when discussing the Eucharistic liturgy as it suggests an
intimate relationship between the body of Christ - the
Church - which gathers to celebrate 'the body of Christ', the
Eucharist. This doctrine had been recovered by theologians
of the Tubingen School of the nineteenth century, then pop-
ularized by liturgical pioneers of the twentieth. Critics
accused proponents of the mystical body theology of attempt-
ing to undermine the nature of the Church's hierarchy, clear-
ly visible in its hierarchically structured worship. It was only
with the encyclical Mystici Corporis Christi of 1943 that this
doctrine gained universal respectability, becoming founda-
tional both for Mediator Dei and for Sacrosanctum
Concilium (SC), Vatican II's Liturgy Constitution.
At the Second Vatican Council, liturgy's definition became
more systematic, affirming that Christian worship is enacted
by the entire mystical body of Christ 'head and members' (SC
7). Sacrosanctum Concilium addressed liturgy's purpose and
goal: the glorification of God and the sanctification of the
liturgical assembly. This sanctification takes place and is sig-
nified 'by signs perceptible to the human senses, and is
16 Worship

effected in a way which corresponds with each of these signs'

(SC 7).These 'signs and symbols' include gestures like the
sign of the cross, the ancient orans gesture of praying with
arms outstretched, or the laying on of hands which is per-
formed by a liturgical minister at ordinations, in anointings,
and in celebrations of the Sacrament of Reconciliation
(Penance). Also included are those symbols of the earth:
bread and wine, oil, water, and fire. In all these signs and
symbols, the presence of Christ is revealed. Significantly,
even before we acknowledge Christ's presence in the Sacred
Scriptures or in the bread and wine, that presence is recog-
nized in the gathered assembly, considered the primary litur-
gical symbol.
This manifold presence of Christ is affirmed not only within
Eucharistic celebrations, of course, but also in all the other
Christian sacraments, and in the liturgy of the hours. Perhaps
the German term gottesdienst (literally the 'service of God')
comes closest to conveying the full breadth of what Christian
worship is about. Be that as it may, the fundamental reality
remains unchanged. In all Christian liturgy, Christ celebrates
his priesthood in its fullness: when the Church baptizes, it is
Christ himself who baptises; when the Church prays and sings,
it is Christ who prays and sings; when the Church lays hands
on the head of one of its members, it does so in the name of
Christ... Here we see an intimate relationship between Christ
and his Church through the Christian community's minister-
ial role within worship. As such, the Church's worship is the
ultimate sacred activity; nothing can match its value or its sig-
nificance. Consistent with the definition given in Sacrosanctum
Concilium, the 1983 Code of Canon Law described liturgy as
both the exercise of the Priesthood of Jesus Christ who sancti-
fies all people and also all of public worship which is carried out
by the Mystical Body of Christ (Canon 834).
The German liturgical scholar Adolf Adam takes this defi-
nition further by explaining liturgies or the study of liturgy
 Worship and Ritual 17

which is based on the Greek adjective leitougik and is com-

plimented by the noun epistme 'science'. He also makes a
helpful distinction regarding the term 'liturgist' which can
refer both to the one leading the worship and also to the
liturgical scientist who studies the rites. Vatican II, for exam-
ple, called the bishop the 'chief liturgist in his diocese' and we
also speak of Christ as the 'liturgist' within every act of
Christian worship (Adam: 1985, pp. 2-4). Those who devote
themselves to the study and teaching of liturgy are also
'liturgists' - a group considered highly suspect in some more
conservative circles for 'tampering with our worship' and
therefore with the tradition. Others lament the rigidity of
liturgists who are stubborn and unyielding on their own
liturgical opinions. Some readers may be familiar with the
popular joke several years ago about the difference between
liturgists and terrorists: 'You can negotiate with a terrorist!'
Sacrosanctum Concilium is even more explicit in explain-
ing worship's role within the life of the Christian communi-
ty. It says that liturgy 'is the summit towards which the activ-
ity of the Church is directed' and 'at the same time it is the
fount from which all the Church's power flows' (SC 10).
Here, we see the integration between worship and life as
essential, rather than remaining separate entities which fail
to intersect. When the Christian community gathers togeth-
er each Sunday it brings with it all that has transpired the
previous week, both good and bad, 'what we have done and
what we have left undone', as Anglicans pray in Confession
of Sins found within the Book of Common Prayer. We bring
our joys and hopes to the table; we bring our successes and
failures. We do this both individually with all the struggles of
the human condition, and also collectively as a community -
as a parish or university, as a monastery or other religious
community, or whatever other grouping we find ourselves in.
In the liturgy, we rediscover our mission - both uniquely per-
sonal and collective - and our life is transformed and
18 Worship

renewed. From the liturgy we are sent forth, charged up to

try yet again to be the body of Christ on this earth. In this
sense, we speak of worship's pivotal role in shaping ethical
behaviour, because one hopes that we live better Christian
lives than before we had passed through those church doors.
Too often in the past - especially prior to Vatican II - a cer-
tain impression was fostered that there were two worlds: the
world of daily life and the world of worship. One would enter
Sunday worship to leave the world and block it out for an hour,
pray to God finding solace and peace, and then return to real
life which was just the opposite. There is no better example of
this dichotomy than that of Catholic workers at Auschwitz and
Dachau who faithfully attended Mass at a nearby church each
morning, after which they would proceed to 'work' and exter-
minate hundreds, thousands, of innocent women and men. In
other situations, worship has also been used as a weapon
against those whom we would call our enemies. In other
words, God is on our side, not theirs, and we celebrate this in
our worship. Writing after the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln
articulated such divisions among the rival camps:
'Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and
each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange
that any men should dare to ask God's assistance in wring-
ing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let
us not judge nor that we be not judged. The prayers of both
could not be answered; that of neither of them has been
answered fully' (Gates: 1978, p. 347).
More recent examples of partisan worship might include
Christian worship in Northern Ireland amidst the Catholic
-Protestant conflict, or the willingness (or unwillingness ) to
pray for Muslims (even Muslim terrorists) after 11 September
2001. Two years later, as the United States prepared for war
with Iraq, too many Roman Catholic parishes limited their
prayers to 'those in our armed forces', and were less inclined
to include prayers for the Iraqi people themselves who are as
 Worship and Ritual 19

much caught in this conflict as is the rest of the world. A sim-

ilar dynamic was evident during the Gulf War of the early
1990s. At the end of the day, our worship has everything to
do with the concrete reality of daily life. In the dying and ris-
ing of Christ, we recognize our own dying and rising in the
concrete, not in some far off, hypothetical reality. By that I
mean the dying and rising of this week: the fact that I lost my
job this past Tuesday, or my spouse or partner walked out on
me, or, conversely, that I gave birth to a healthy baby, or just
received the promotion I had been hoping for.
But we are also called to look beyond our own personal sit-
uations to the bigger picture - like Iraq, for example - and to
envision the world in the way God sees it. On the very prac-
tical level, this means that tensions in the Middle East or ter-
rorist bombings in Bali also intersect with us even if we live
in London or Cape Town, or Recife, and we bring those con-
cerns to common worship, as well. Of course, we cannot pre-
tend to feel the same emotions as those who live in places of
violence, but such violence and oppression should disturb us
and be a concern of ours as we pray together. If not, then
there is something wrong with the equation. In my travels, I
have occasionally been asked why we need to chant psalms
which speak of violence, blood and destruction, or proclaim
scriptural readings too negative or heavy to bear on a bright,
sunny morning in springtime. The response is simple: litur-
gy is about much more than our own struggles and joys.
Vatican II emphasized this when it affirmed that 'liturgical
services are not private functions, but are celebrations
belonging to the whole Church ...'(SC 24). In other words,
since the liturgy belongs to Jesus Christ and is fundamental-
ly about God's reign on this earth, we are connected through
our worship with the whole Church and, indeed, with the
whole planet, and not just with those on our left and right in
church. That is why the intercessory or Bidding Prayers are
so important in the liturgy, reminding us of the needs of the
20 Worship

Church and the world so that we can pray for them and be
united with them.
Related to this tension between the local church at wor-
ship and global solidarity is another dimension of liturgy's
relationship to life: Christian worship is itself both universal
and particular. For Roman Catholics, Vatican II spoke of the
'substantial unity of the Roman Rite'; whether the celebra-
tion takes place in Kinshasha or Delhi, it is still the 'Roman
Rite'. Maintaining such unity is considered fundamental and
essential for that Church's identity as being 'Roman
Catholic'. This does not mean, however, that liturgical cele-
brations in Delhi or Kinshasha will look exactly alike. Indeed,
they would be expected to look different, precisely because
the cultural reality and particular circumstances are quite
different in those two places. Thus, while Sacrosanctum
Concilium upholds 'the substantial unity of the Roman Rite',
it criticizes a 'rigid uniformity' which leaves no room for
adaptation to the particular community or region. (SC 38)
This cultural diversity is best seen in various expressions
of popular devotions or 'popular religiosity' (the rosary;
novenas and other devotions to saints; stations of the cross;
processions and pilgrimages; and so forth) which will be
treated later in this volume. Vatican II was quick to admit
that liturgy 'does not exhaust the entire activity of the
Church' (SC 12) and that the spiritual life of the Christian
community is more extensive than liturgical participation
(SC 12). Consequently, non-liturgical popular devotions are
encouraged by the Church and can, in fact, be an important
instrument of evangelization, leading the faithful to the
liturgy itself. Those devotions, however, are expected to 'har-
monize' with the liturgical seasons and not to set up parallel
structures which would draw people away from the liturgy
(SC 13). But because popular devotions are not considered
'liturgical actions', they do not receive a separate section in
the Conciliar document, as is the case with the Eucharist,
 Worship and Ritual 21

other Sacraments, Liturgy of the Hours, and others.

As the public worship of the Church, Christian liturgy by
its very nature is both evangelical (i.e. directed towards mis-
sion) and eschatological (i.e. looking toward the future of
God's reign). This dying and rising is brought to Christ in
the liturgy, and Christ brings it to God, and together the
community is healed and transformed. Failure to live this
integral link between liturgy and life results in a schizo-
phrenia as evidenced at Auschwitz or Dachau. The mystery
of the Eucharist and the mystery of human life are the
same. In the words of Saint Augustine: It is your own mys-
tery you celebrate.'
As the source and summit of the Christian life, therefore,
liturgy calls for the full involvement of the whole celebrating
community. There are different ministries, as Saint Paul
reminds us, and it is our common baptism in Christ which calls
us to exercise our baptismal priesthood in the carrying out of
those ministries. Consequently, the heart of the liturgical
reforms of Vatican II was the recovery of 'full, conscious, and
active participation' in the liturgy (SC 14). When such partici-
pation is shared by different members of the congregation, then
the Church as the Body of Christ is seen in its full stature. The
converse is also true. When at Sunday worship the president of
the assembly does everything except take up the collection,
then liturgy is anaemic at best; it appears incomplete as it fails
to represent the rich diversity inherent within the one body of
Christ. Back in the 1930s, German-born liturgical pioneer
Martin Hellriegel challenged the 'melting pot' theory where all
is blended into sameness. Such an approach, common in those
days when speaking of US immigration, had no place in the
Christian liturgy. Hellriegel preferred the image of a mosaic
where each tessera in that mosaic was diverse and precious.
Such diversity is never more richly displayed than in the litur-
gical assembly when the different ministries are exercised by
women and men of different colours and ages.
22 Worship

Today, liturgy continues to encompass the Church's full

breadth of official rituals and sacramental celebrations, many
of which are non-Eucharistic. Nonetheless, at least for Roman
Catholics, worship is often exclusively identified with Mass
and when some event is planned, it is almost always the
Eucharist which is chosen as the best way to ritualize that
moment. The Eucharist is, of course, liturgy par excellence -
the 'summit and source' of the Church's life as Vatican II
reminded us, but our liturgical life remains impoverished if
we never consider any other forms of liturgy from the
Church's rich treasury. Evensong as is often celebrated on
Sunday afternoons and other festal days in Anglican churches
offers a good example. By its very nature it is liturgy with
its full range of liturgical ministries and various forms of
communal participation. But it is not Eucharistic. What may
surprise many Roman Catholics is that their church has its
own form of communal Morning and Evening Prayer but it
is seldom utilized. Indeed, despite the fact that the tradition
of Sunday Parish Vespers was encouraged both at the
Council of Trent and Vatican II, one is hard-pressed to find
Roman Catholic Sunday Evensong, except perhaps at the
Basilica of Saint Peter's in Vatican City where Vespers are
sung each Sunday evening with a packed congregation. Put
simply, all Eucharists are liturgy or liturgical, but liturgy is
not or need not be necessarily Eucharistic.
By now, it should be self-evident that Christian worship
can be expressed in a variety of ways, and that arriving at
one single definition which covers all aspects is a tremendous
challenge. Much depends on what one wishes to emphasize:
liturgy's symbolic function with special attention to ritual
studies; Christ's liturgical function as principal actor in the
ritual action; the Mystical Body of Christ and the assembly's
role as 'subject' rather than 'object' of the liturgical action.
What is important, however, is an integration of those differ-
ent components in order to arrive at a healthy and balanced
 Worship and Ritual 23

definition of what constitutes worship for Christians and

why it is so important for the life of our churches.

Worship as an Encounter with God

We have seen how liturgy is fundamentally a communal
event in its various ritual forms with its rich symbolic and
poetic dimensions. But Christian worship is fundamentally
God's work in or on us as God's salvific purpose is worked
out and accomplished. It is a divine activity - an event of
tremendous grace - at which the community encounters God
in holy mystery not as passive spectators but rather as active
participants. It is God who invites them into that holy pres-
ence and their liturgical participation is a response to that
invitation. Christian worship is God's gift to the Church; it is
all God's initiative. This was the argument of Martin Luther,
John Calvin, and later the great Lutheran theologian Karl
Barth, and it remains valid today. We approach God's pres-
ence with open hands and hearts because we are simply too
weak and poor to offer God anything. God doesn't need wor-
ship; we do. We gather to acknowledge our very fragile
essence as creatures and our utter dependence on God who
alone can save us. We gather as a 'pilgrim Church' as Vatican
II reminded us, on the road with all of our questions and
imperfections, not yet having found the perfection we desire.
It is there where we are fed by God's word and also by the
holy meal which God prepares for us. And from that assem-
bly where we are nourished we are sent forth.
God's initiative and our response forms the dialogical
nature of all Christian worship. This dialogue does not
remain within the confines of that assembly, but extends
beyond the Church to embrace the whole human family -
believers and non-believers alike. As such, Christian worship
imitates the pattern of our salvation which began with God's
initiative and followed with our response - both individually
24 Worship

and in common. We remember the call of Abraham and

Sarah and their faithful response; the story of Noah with its
baptismal imagery. We think of Moses and his willingness to
accept the vocation to which God called him and how he led
the Israelites out of Egypt, trusting in God. Divine faithful-
ness is seen in the Passover Event and in granting the
Israelites safe passage as they traveled unharmed through
the Red Sea. But above all it is God's covenant offered to the
Jews and their faithful response which extends even to us
today, thanks to the suffering, death, and resurrection of
Jesus Christ. God's initiative and human response is the
operative dynamic within the Judeo-Christian tradition and,
consequently, also within our worship. For Christians, Jesus
is the very revelation of God - God's own gift for us.
At the heart of this dialogue within Christian worship is
the Trinity. The Church prays to the Father, through Christ,
in the Holy Spirit. We pray through Christ because Jesus is
our mediator and intercessor; he is the main actor. This is the
case whether we are speaking of Eucharist, Christian
Baptism, or the Liturgy of the Hours: all Christian liturgy is
Trinitarian. Christ sits at God's right hand as high priest
(Hebrews 8:2; 6:20) and pleads on our behalf (Hebrews 7:25).
Recently, some feminist scholars have proposed alternative
formulas such as God Creator, Liberator, and Sanctifier in
favour of a more inclusive worship. Those alternatives pres-
ent other problems, however, since God the Father is also
'Liberator' and 'Sanctifier' and the Holy Spirit can also be
called 'Creator'. Where do we draw the line? We even have
hymn texts such as 'Come Creator Spirit' or 'Creative Spirit'.
Other feminist theologians like the late Catherine LaCugna
disagree with feminist colleagues, arguing that relationally
something is lost when Father, Son and Holy Spirit is substi-
tuted with more generic terms.
This doxology is modeled on the ancient Trinitarian under-
standing of God in the history of salvation: God is the origin
 Worship and Ritual 25

of all creation; Jesus Christ reveals God to the world and is,
as Dominican theologian Edward Schillebeeckx reminds us,
'the sacrament of our encounter with God'. He is thus the
head of the Church as he serves as intercessor and mediator;
the Holy Spirit provides the force and strength for Christ to
lead all people to God. Therefore we pray in the doxology
which concludes the Eucharistic Prayer: 'Through Christ,
With Christ ... In Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all
glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father, now and forever.'
From this Trinitarian liturgyflowsorthodoxy - literally 'right
worship' rather than 'right doctrine' as that worship is prop-
erly directed to God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
To speak of Christian worship as doxology necessarily
implies the liturgical concepts of anamnesis and epiclesis.
Anamnesis is about making known a salvific event in the
present - remembering or recalling God's mighty deeds in sal-
vation history but also remembering the ways in which God
is saving us here and now - this year, this month. It is pre-
cisely through this act of remembering that the celebrating
community recalls God's wonders and the past is actualized
in the present. For the ancient Jews, this sense of remember-
ing was a much more dynamic reality than is the case in our
analytical Western approach to reality. In that Semitic con-
text, 'to remember' literally meant a dynamic bringing of the
past into the present. Today, through its rituals, the Church
keeps the memory of those saving events of the passion,
death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Johannes Baptist
Metz speaks of this remembering of the paschal mystery as a
'dangerous memory'. It is 'dangerous' because it threatens
the present and calls into question or challenges the status
quo. But this memorial is also liberating as it looks with hope
toward the future, calling Christians to ongoing conversion
'so that they are able to take this future into account' (Metz:
1980, p. 90). In such 'dangerous memory' lies the prophetic
role of worship as it dialogues with human society.
26 Worship

Epiclesis is linked to anamnesis as the Holy Spirit is called

down upon the people and their gifts. By the power of that
Spirit, these gifts: the bread, the wine, and the community,
are transformed into the body and blood of Christ. This
transformation of the liturgical participants leads them to
diakonia - to Christian service of others. Thus, the humble
service of foot-washing (symbolically expressive of the gener-
ous service of others) and the breaking of bread are inti-
mately linked. While the natural locus of this anamnesis and
epiclesis is within the Eucharistic Prayer, all Christian
Liturgy necessarily includes anamnesis and epiclesis as con-
stitutive of that 'right worship' to which the mystical body of
Christ is summoned. This dialogical liturgy between God and
the Christian community thereby sends the assembly forth
into a dialogue which reaches out to embrace God's world. In
the West, our understanding of the role of the Holy Spirit has
been rather under-developed as compared with the churches
of the East. More recent scholarship, like that of the late US
Jesuit liturgist Edward Kilmartin and Italian Jesuit liturgist
Cesare Giruado have called attention to the Spirit's role
within Christian worship and particularly to its transforma-
tion of the liturgical assembly itself, along with the gifts.
As has already been mentioned, we must be careful not to
localize the anamnesis or epiclesis as though they were limit-
ed to specific moments. Prior to the Second Vatican Council,
there was a similar problem with localizing the moment of
'consecration' during the Eucharistic Prayer. In some situa-
tions, it was interpreted as the only moment which mattered
during the liturgy. This moment was signalled by the ringing
of a bell, alerting those who were otherwise occupied with
their devotions (the prayer was normally prayed quietly by
the priest) that it had arrived. (We will explore this history in
greater detail in the next chapter.) More recent liturgical
scholarship has rediscovered the fact that, indeed, the entire
Eucharistic Prayer is consecratory - not just the Institution
 Worship and Ritual 27

narrative when the words are proclaimed: 'This is my Body,

This is my Blood'. Failure to take this reality seriously leads
to a division within that Prayer, prioritizing what are consid-
ered the more important elements with less attention given to
the rest of the prayer. The Eucharistic Prayer must be seen as
a seamless garment from the Preface Dialogue ('Lift up your
Hearts!') through to the Great Amen where the assembly
gives its sung assent to all that has been proclaimed. Failure
to maintain the unity and integrity of the prayer presents
other problems. This is evidenced in certain Italian churches
where rather than waiting for the monetary collection to be
completed, the presider proceeds immediately to the
Preparation of the Gifts as congregants fumble for their coins.
The collection usually continues through the Eucharistic
Prayer (including the singing of the Sanctus) with the excep-
tion of 'the Consecration' at which point the usher reverent-
ly genuflects holding the offering plate. Once the president
proclaims the words: 'The Mystery of Faith', the usher is back
on her feet and continues to make the rounds through the
assembly until the offering has been completed. Such confu-
sion perpetuates the Tridentine dichotomy between the
sacramental core worth paying attention to and the rest of the
liturgical action which might serve to edify those present but
did not need to involve them unnecessarily.
Careful attention to anamnesis and epiclesis leads to a
heightened sense of mystery within Christian worship. By its
very nature, liturgy is transcendent and awe-inspiring, draw-
ing us into that cosmic experience of the divine together with
the angels and saints who day and night cry out: 'Holy, Holy,
Holy is the Lord God Almighty' (Revelation 4-5). God dwells
'in light inaccessible' (1 Timothy 6:16) and Christ is the mys-
tery of God (1 Timothy 3:16). Thus, even as we respond to
God's invitation and are drawn into God's mystery through
our liturgical participation, we shall never fully grasp the
depth of that mystery on this earth. Here we experience the
28 Worship

esehatological tension between the 'already' and the 'not yet'.

Indeed, although we are offered a foretaste of the eternal ban-
quet in the Eucharist, for example, it remains only a foretaste
until at last we dwell with God forever in heaven. The same
proleptic reality holds true for all forms of Christian worship:
we grasp something of the mystery of God's reign but the full
reality remains veiled before our eyes.
This distinction between the 'already' and the 'not yet' is
significant as we consider the current liturgical reality in the
post-Vatican II era. In some parts of the world - and this
holds true for all the Christian churches - there have been
attempts to make worship completely intelligible in all its
forms and to explain its symbols and gestures until we get it
right. Positively, we can note the shift towards use of the ver-
nacular within liturgical celebrations and greater access to
the liturgy along with a recovery of the different liturgical
ministries for all the baptized. Negatively, some observers
complain about liturgies devoid of silence and reverence,
pedestrian and banal because they have become excessively
verbose. In other situations, God's immanence has replaced
God's transcendence and a healthy balance between the two
is lost. Not surprisingly, pastoral attempts at over-explaining
everything have led some communities to note a certain
malaise within their liturgical life. In those contexts, worship
has become a rather middle-class, democratic activity lacking
in awe and mystery.
The Sacred Scriptures of Judaism and Christianity - what
have commonly been called the 'Old' and 'New' Testaments -
form the basis for Christian cult. Not only is the liturgical
preaching based on the prescribed scriptural texts from the
three-year Sunday Lectionary, but all the other liturgical
prayers and songs, invitations and admonitions find their
origins in the Bible (SC 24). The Eucharistic command:
'Take, Eat, This is my Body; Take, Drink, This is my Blood.
Do this for the remembrance of me', is itself scriptural.
 Worship and Ritual 29

Indeed, the Scriptural basis of liturgical texts holds true for

all Christian liturgy, whether Eucharistic or non-Eucharistic.
While such a foundation is abundantly clear in the Liturgy of
the Hours, its influence is perhaps less apparent within other
rites of the Church, but the scriptural inspiration is always
there. We must also ask ourselves what lies beyond or behind
the text. Each sacral text proclaimed or utilized in the litur-
gy comes out of the lived faith experience of a Jewish or
Christian community, and that also shapes the way we inter-
pret and employ that text within Christian worship of the
twenty-first century.
This intimate link is the concern of liturgists and biblical
scholars alike. Almost ten years ago, The Pontifical Biblical
Commission emphasized this important relationship in its
own document The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church
(Vatican City: 1993). Italian biblical scholar Renato De Zan has
made a helpful distinction between the Bible and the Liturgy
and the Bible in the Liturgy. When we speak of the Bible and
the Liturgy we are dealing with the memory of that founda-
tional, salvific event which is preserved and reverenced not
only within that first assembly of our forebears but also in the
contemporary assembly to which it is intimately connected. In
De Zan's second grouping, Bible in the Liturgy, we are speak-
ing more about Scripture's pastoral application to the liturgy:
to the underlying structure of the liturgical celebration and
also to the 'reformulation of Scripture' in worship itself. Here,
such concerns as the relationship between the first and third
lessons enter in, or the elimination of certain verses from par-
ticular biblical passages depending on the feast or context (De
Zan, 'Bible and Liturgy' in Chupungco: 1997, pp. 33-51).

Conclusion
In this first chapter, we have seen that Christian worship is
not about superfluous ceremony nor is it about rubrics or
30 Worship

laws. It is about the very heart of the Christian life where

God's presence is encountered both individually and collec-
tively, and where our convictions about the reign of God are
made manifest in what we say and do - in how and what we
preach - in our gestures towards God and one another. Nor
is liturgy about minimalism or cutting corners to save time
and get it done. Rather, Christian liturgy is about God's time
rather than checking our watches. Liturgy is not about me: 'I
don't go to church because I don't get anything out of it,' or
1 prefer to worship God in my own way.' Christianity leaves
no room for such individualism. Our presence at Sunday
worship is much more linked, in fact, with what we put into
it. Responding to God's invitation, what do we bring to the
well as we go there to drink? For the well is deep. How deep
is our bucket? In the words of one liturgical scholar, 'What
you get out of it is the inestimable privilege of praising
Almighty God; that's what you get out of it!' To say that the
liturgy is not about me also means that it is neither the time
nor the place to work out my issues and creativity on others
- especially with regard to preaching and general liturgical
planning. Moreover, it means that reclusive tendencies to
separate myself from the rest of the assembly by sitting alone
off in a corner of the chapel is not what Vatican II envisaged
when it spoke of 'full and active liturgical participation'.
Christian worship is ultimately about praising and thank-
ing God as we recall God's mighty deeds and as we come to
re-discover our own identity as Christ's body in this world.
As we have already seen, liturgy also has an important inter-
cessory function as the needs of the churches and the world
are made manifest, and as the assembly unites itself to those
who suffer. In this way are liturgical participants enabled to
look upon God's world with God's eyes. So, worship is never
just about us. It is about God's work in the world and this
particular community. Through this communion with God
and one another, worship, in fact, defines the community,
 Worship and Ritual 31

reminding it both of its identity and its destiny. In the words

of T. S. Eliot: 'What life have you if you have not life together?
There is no life that is not in community, and no community
not lived in praise of God' (Eliot: 1963, p. 154).
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 2
Worship in Development and Decline

Introduction
The history of Christian worship is vast. Volumes have been
written on specific aspects of historical liturgy in East and
West; other studies have been comparative, looking at simi-
larities and contrasts between different rites or parallel
developments therein. Post-Reformation data provides fur-
ther liturgical information within the West and has been
extensively studied both separately and comparatively. Thus,
these next three chapters devoted to liturgical history will
provide but a survey - a glimpse at a much more complex
reality. The bibliography provided at the end of this book will
assist those who wish to pursue in greater depth the histori-
cal periods and corresponding issues discussed here. This
chapter surveys the history of Western Christian worship
from the first century through to the fifteenth.
Like the rest of history, Christian liturgy in its various his-
torical epochs is intimately bound up with the cultural con-
text within which it grew. We see this from the earliest years
of Christianity. In fact, the ability of Christian worship to sur-
vive over two thousand years can be attributed to the fact that
it was adaptable - maintaining the tradition while responding
to the signs of the times. Like Jesus, who was himself a Jew
and was steeped in his own cultural and religious traditions,
the first Christians brought with them their own cultural
identity which influenced their liturgical practice. Those cul-
tural traditions needed to be taken very seriously and respect-
ed if Christianity were to survive. Two thousand years later,
Christian churches continue to read from the Hebrew
Scriptures when they gather for worship and chant Jewish
psalms as they bless God for God's saving deeds.
34 Worship

The Apostolic Period

Since Christianity emerged from Judaism, it follows logically

that the origins of Christian worship are to be found within
Jewish cult. A defining moment was the destruction of the
Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE which brought with it the end of
sacrificial worship of the old covenant. That reality, together
with the growing realization that Jesus' return was not
imminent, brought about the need for more organized struc-
tures within the Christian community including its worship.
Christian worship inherited those fundamental Jewish ele-
ments of praise, thanksgiving and intercession, the liturgy of
the hours, the liturgy of the Word along with the sermon, the
seven-day week, the concept of a liturgical year and, in par-
ticular, the feasts of Easter and Pentecost. The cult of the
martyrs also has its roots in Judaism. Other liturgical tradi-
tions such as the laying on of hands, invitations such as 'Let
us Pray', and doxologies to conclude prayers were also bor-
rowed from Judaism and today, those elements can still be
found within Christian worship.
That being said, we must be careful not to perceive too
intimate a relationship between Jewish and Christian litur-
gical practice. For while early Christians wanted to maintain
the traditions of their past, they were also keen to demon-
strate how they were ritually different from their spiritual
forebears as they had now become followers of Christ. Jesus
himself embodies this balance between the old and the new:
1 did not come to abolish the law and the prophets but to ful-
fill them'(Matthew 5:17).
As a faithful Jew, Jesus observed the Sabbath but he was not
enslaved to it. True worship necessarily included service of
others - even on the Sabbath when Jews were to refrain from
all activity, thus his conflict with the Pharisees (Mark 2:27).
People and their needs came before any slavish interpretation
of the law. Jesus also participated liturgically in the great
 Worship in Development and Decline 35

feasts of the Jewish liturgical year: Passover (Matt 26:17-19);

Pentecost (John 5:1); the Feast of Tabernacles (John 7:10); and
the Dedication of the Temple (John 10:23). Jesus also distin-
guished between worship that was purely ceremonial or super-
ficial, and true worship (and 'true worshippers') who wor-
shipped God 'in spirit and in truth' (John 4:23-4).
Christianity did not emerge in the first century as what we
would today regard as a formal religion: there were no
shrines or temples, no sacrifices or public cult, no celebration
of public feasts. As the central Christian ritual had its origins
in the domestic context of a meal, it continued to be cele-
brated in private residences for several hundred years and
those events were not opened to the public. Of course, perse-
cution was not uncommon and there was the obvious securi-
ty concern of celebrating Christian worship discreetly. But
even aside from fear of persecution, some Christians defend-
ed their lack of altars and shrines by arguing that God's tem-
ple was the whole world and could hardly be enclosed in an
edifice made by human hands.
Christian worship in those early years was quite informal
and the kind of distinctions we make today between sacramen-
tal and ordinary meals of the community would have been dif-
ficult to fathom. One can only smile as we look back at pious
Catholic literature prior to Vatican II which occasionally con-
tained curious titles such as 'When Jesus celebrated his first
Mass'. Similar projection was also witnessed in paintings where
Jesus was depicted in Mass vestments distributing communion
(hosts) on the tongue, of course, to the Apostles at the Last
Supper who reverently knelt in holy expectation. Nothing, of
course, could be further from the early Christian situation of
first-century Palestine. From the information we have avail-
able, it seems fairly certain that the community's fraternal
meal was the context for the Lord's Supper until the end of the
first century or the beginning of the second. This is evident in
Paul's account of the Eucharist in 1 Corinthians 11.
36 Worship

The Christian Scriptures offer four accounts of the Instit-

ution of the Eucharist (Mark 14:22-4; Matthew 26:26-9; Luke
22:17ff; and 1 Corinthians 11:23-5). Already we see a cultural
variance in these four different accounts as the texts were
composed for different audiences. Paul's account in 1 Corin-
thians is significant in that he refers to the tradition which
he handed on to the Corinthians: Tor I received from the
Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord on the night
he was betrayed took a loaf of bread ...' (1 Corinthians
11:23). Luke and Paul include the command: 'Do this in
memory of me', which is not included in either Mark or in
Matthew. This institution of the Eucharist clearly takes place
within the context of a domestic meal regardless of whether
or not that meal was the Passover supper.
In those early years of the Apostolic Period as the life and
mission of the Church took shape, we have little detailed
information of just how the followers of Jesus worshipped or
what they did when they gathered together for common
prayer. The Acts of the Apostles speaks of 'the Breaking of
the Bread' (Acts 2:46). Eucharistic imagery can be found in
numerous references in the Christian Scriptures as in the
account of The Supper at Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35) when
the disciples themselves recall how the Risen Lord explained
the Scriptures to them and broke the bread. This imagery is
especially clear in verse 30, which begins: 'While he was at
table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it ...'.
Baptism carries its own liturgical references which signified
a washing in water by God's word (Ephesians 5:26) and was
performed in Christ's name for the forgiveness of sins and
the gift of the Spirit (Acts 2:38). Of the numerous baptismal
references in the Christian Scriptures, only the account of
the Ethiopian's conversion describes the baptismal rite:
'Both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the
water, and Philip baptized him ...' (Acts 8:38-9). We read of
the Apostles laying hands on those whom the community
 Worship in Development and Decline 37

had commissioned to some form of service or leadership (Acts

6:6; 13:1-3; 1 Tim 4:14; 5:22; 2 Tim 1:6) and of praying over
those who were ill and anointing them with holy oil (James
5:14-16).
One important early liturgical text was the Didache (The
Teaching of the Twelve Apostles') - a Jewish-Christian doc-
ument from Syria dated around the middle or end of the sec-
ond century although its precise dating remains uncertain.
That manuscript, discovered in 1863, provides important
liturgical information for the period between 80 and 130 CE
Chapter 7 of this manuscript deals with the administration
of Baptism and Chapter 8 with prayer and fasting. The ninth
and tenth chapters contain what seems to be either an agape
meal (literally 'love feast') or perhaps a simplified Eucharist.
Chapter 14 describes the Eucharist on the Lord's Day and is
preceded by a confession of sins and reconciliation so that the
sacrifice (referring to Malachi 1:11-14) may be offered with
pure hearts; the bishop who is assisted by deacons leads it.
Beyond that, specific information on what takes place is not
found. The fifteenth chapter encourages the Church to gath-
er frequently for its own spiritual benefit. This text would
later serve as a foundation for the fourth century 'Apostolic
Constitutions' coming from the same region. (Cattaneo:
1992, pp. 39-40)
The letters of Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch written around
the year 110 express their own concern that the Christian
liturgy be celebrated properly and guarded against the
heretics. To this end, he encourages unity between the local
church and the bishop particularly regarding sacramental
celebrations. Like the Didache, we find encouragement for
Christians to avail themselves of the liturgical celebrations
(especially Eucharist) for the salvation of their souls. Within
several centuries, in fact, some heretics composed their own
prayer texts which were being circulated and used by inno-
cent Christians who didn't know any better.
38 Worship

The history of early Christian worship reveals a young and

struggling Church trying to find its own way and not without
a host of internal conflicts. While there were the obvious ten-
sions between the practitioners of Judaism and Christianity,
a significant level of conflict was also registered within the
Church itself between Jewish and Gentile Christians. The
debate over issues such as circumcision and the dietary laws,
as evidenced at The Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15), offers
one example. And that debate raged on for years. The
Didache itself speaks of Christians defending their positions
against Jewish liturgical practices. Jewish converts to
Christianity continued to observe the Sabbath, but then
gathered on Sunday for Christian worship which included
the preaching of the Word and the breaking of the bread
(Acts 20:7); it is unknown who led those domestic rituals.
Another example of early tensions can be found in what was
called the 'Quartodeciman Controversy' over the proper dat-
ing of the annual Easter festival. The situation was not
resolved until the Council of Nicea in 325. Christians pro-
claimed their own unique identity in other ways as well.
Since Jews set aside Mondays and Thursdays as regular fast
days, Christians chose Wednesdays and Fridays. By the third
century, they attributed a spiritual significance to their
choice: Wednesday was to commemorate Jesus' betrayal and
Friday his crucifixion. Gradually, those holy days were
marked as days of Eucharistic celebration as well. However,
daily celebrations of the Eucharist did not become normative
until the medieval period. Eventually, only Friday remained
as a fast day for Christians (with the exception of Lent).
As the missionary Church gradually evangelized the West,
new problems emerged when monotheistic Christianity
encountered the polytheistic Greek mystery religions. Graeco-
Roman Christians were, on the one hand, predictably suspi-
cious of the mystery religions in order to preserve their own
fragile identity. But an effective communication of the gospel
 Worship in Development and Decline 39

message would necessarily require adapting to contemporary

cultural circumstances so as to gain credibility and accept-
ance. Gradually, at least some elements from the Graeco-
Roman world (and particularly from the mystery religions)
were incorporated into Christian worship, especially in the
fourth century with the decline of the Elysian rites, the
Egyptian rites of Osiris and Isis, the Phrygian rites of Attis,
and the Persian rites of Mithras.
This cultural borrowing included shared liturgical lan-
guage as well as specific ritual elements. Terms like illumi-
nation and enlightenment, washing and initiation were held
in common by both Christianity and the mystery cults.
Moreover, we find a similar structure in the preparation of
candidates for initiation with a type of catechumenate
(including the 'scrutinies') and a post-baptismal period of
instruction to explain to the newly initiated what happened
to them (called 'mystagogy'). Some mystery cults also includ-
ed the giving of the sacred formulas prior to initiation, fast-
ing during the period of preparation, stripping naked for full
immersion into the waters of initiation, the putting on of a
white garment afterwards followed by a celebratory ritual
meal. There was also a certain resemblance in Eucharistic
language. Inscribed on the walls of one Mithraic temple in
Rome was the words: 'You have saved us O Mithra through
your precious blood.' Change the name 'Mithra' to 'Christ'
and little more would be required to render appropriately
that expression within a Christian context. In an under-
ground pagan basilica in Rome there is an interesting fresco
- an altar is depicted on which is placed bread and fish.
Behind the altar stands a president with arms outstretched
in prayer, wearing liturgical vestments not unlike what
would have been worn by Christians. There are also refer-
ences to 'food for the journey' - a ritual partaking of food for
the dying to grant them safe passage into the next world, not
unlike what Christians would later call Viaticum - Holy
40 Worship

Communion for the moribund. Of course, those linguistic and

ritual elements meant very different things in the different
religions; nonetheless, the similarity in expression and style is
most fascinating. One wonders how such liturgical/symbolic
borrowing originated and who initiated the exchange.
In addition to the mystery religions, there was a further
borrowing of cultural elements deemed acceptable within
Christian worship. Tertullian borrowed the term sacramen-
turn from military vocabulary which originally had to do with
an oath taken to the emperor. Other examples include the
use of oil for anointing, washing the feet of the newly bap-
tized and the giving of a cup of milk and honey within the
rites of Christian initiation. The foot washing and the chal-
ices of milk and honey are especially interesting examples.
The washing of the feet was known in Milan a full cen-
tury before it was admitted into the Roman liturgy. Rome
rejected it because quite simply - it wasn't Roman! It did, of
course, exist elsewhere. In the Benedictine monastic tradi-
tion the abbot was to be called immediately upon the arrival
of guests so that he might greet them at once and wash their
feet as a sign of reverence and welcome. (Welcome all guests
as Christ' is at the heart of the Rule of Saint Benedict.) The
giving of chalices of milk and honey was an ancient custom
in pagan Roman households. When an infant was born into
a particular family s/he was placed at the feet of the head of
the household - the paterfamilias - who would then either
accept or reject the child. If the infant happened to be
deformed or even, on occasion, if the newborn was a girl, s/he
might be returned to the nurses for adoption. If, however, the
infant was accepted into the family by the father, the new-
born would then be given a drink of milk mixed with honey,
both as a gesture of welcome and also as a superstitious pro-
tection against evil spirits. Christians in Rome adopted the
same practice but with a new interpretation. Newly baptized
Christians were given to drink the chalice of milk mixed with
 Worship in Development and Decline 41

honey both as a gesture of welcome into the Christian com-

munity and as a symbol of the neophyte's entrance into the
Promised Land - a land 'flowing with milk and honey'.
Roman Christians would have easily identified with this
custom when it was introduced into Christian Baptism,
whereas it would have appeared quite foreign in non-Roman
contexts.
Another challenge for the Christian community in the
Graeco-Roman world was that of liturgical language. Koine
Greek was spoken by a large part of the Roman Empire includ-
ing the City of Rome itself. Logically, the Roman Church
adopted koine Greek as its liturgical language. In fact, during
the first two centuries ten out of fourteen bishops were Greek-
speaking. The use of Latin within the liturgy originated in
North Africa under the leadership of Pope Victor (+203). The
result was a mixed liturgy which included Latin usage for the
scriptural readings and a continued use of Greek for the
prayers. (The first Latin version of the Scriptures appeared
around the year 250.) Liturgical vocabulary in Latin was
greatly enhanced thanks to writers like Cyprian, Tertullian,
and Augustine. Meanwhile, Roman Christians continued to
employ Greek for liturgical celebrations until the middle of the
fourth century during the papacy of Pope Damasus I when the
majority of Romans no longer understood Greek.
Interestingly, as a cultural concession - what we would call
'inculturation' - the Roman Church shifted to Latin for the
liturgy so that those in attendance would be able to under-
stand what they were celebrating. This is significant today as
reactionary conservatives call for a return to Latin because it
is 'a more sacral language'. In and of itself, Latin is no more
'sacral' than is Greek or Japanese. What perhaps gave Latin
this sacral character was that it came to be used only in the
Liturgy and was unintelligible to most worshippers. Today,
Latin remains the official language of the Roman Catholic
Church and of its worship, even though major vernacular
42 Worship

concessions were granted at Vatican II. In the seventh cen-

tury there was a brief return to Greek usage within liturgi-
cal worship, probably because of an increased number of
immigrants coming from the East. That shift was to be short
lived, however. Soon, the Roman liturgy would return to the
exclusive use of Latin and the faithful would be further and
further removed from the Church's rituals because of an
inability to understand Latin.
Cultural borrowing also included the use of buildings and
architectural styles for adaptation to Christian worship.
From the earliest years of Christianity, the community cele-
brated the Eucharist in the homes of its members. As num-
bers grew, wealthier members of the Church donated their
homes as permanent communal centres which were then
remodelled for the community's liturgical usage. During
times of persecution, of course, the liturgical assembly could
not be so overt in its choice of venues for worship and met
secretly as a consequence. Contrary to popular belief how-
ever, the Christian community did not gather regularly in the
catacombs for Eucharistic celebrations in times of persecu-
tion. This domestic liturgical tradition, begun in Jerusalem,
was carried over to the Graeco-Roman world. One of the
more famous of these houses was the third-century con-
struction of Dura Europas which had rooms both for the cel-
ebration of the Eucharist and also for the administration of
baptism. It is also interesting to note that this Christian
church had a Jewish synagogue as its neighbour on the same
street and the two communities apparently dwelled harmo-
niously together. A similar scene is witnessed today in Japan
as Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines often dwell side by
side in perfect harmony and in mutual respect.
The early Christian building for worship came to be called
domus ecclesiae - a house for the church - unlike ornate
pagan temples where the divine presence was limited to the
sanctuary. Early Christians were strong in their affirmation
 Worship in Development and Decline 43

of God's dwelling first and foremost within the assembly -

the ecclesiae. Implied in this image and architectural design
was the importance of hospitality - especially toward for-
eigners, the poor, and the marginalized. Christian cult cen-
tred around a meal and meals were consumed in houses not
in temples. Indeed, in ancient Greek society dining with inti-
mate friends was to dine par excellence and to dine alone was
not to dine at all. Through baptism, Christians became the
'friends of God' as Gregory of Nyssa wrote, and in that
friendship, the Church was called to worship in its house.
After the Peace of Constantine was declared with the Edict of
Milan (313 CE) those house churches were used as the foun-
dations for larger Christian basilicas built to accommodate
the large numbers of crowds. Increased membership was a
consequence of Christianity's new status as a state religion of
the empire. The church buildings were called tituli because
they took their names from the owners who held the 'title' to
the property - Marcellus, Cecilia, Pudentiana, Clement.
Even today, in Rome some of those early basilicas maintain
the original names of their tituli.
As liturgical architecture grew alongside the community's
consciousness of shared membership in the Body of Christ,
so did the structure of the Church's liturgical rites. The first
testimony we have of the structure for the Sunday Eucharist
comes from Justin, philosopher and martyr, in his First
Apology, written in about the year 150. Of special interest
are the chapters on Baptism (61) and the Eucharist (65-7).
Justin refers to the day 'called the sun' in which Christians
gather together in the same place, whether they reside in the
city or the countryside. Once assembled, they read from the
Acts of the Apostles and from the writings of the Hebrew
Prophets as long as time allows. When the reader has fin-
ished the lessons the president gives a discourse admonish-
ing the assembly to imitate these holy examples given in the
readings. Next, all members of the assembly rise and begin
44 Worship

the prayers of the people (the bidding or intercessory

prayers). The kiss of peace follows which leads into the pres-
entation of the gifts: bread, wine and water. Water was used
to dilute the strong wine - a custom which continues to be
employed in some Italian households today when homemade
wine is consumed with the meal. The president then begins
the Great Thanksgiving Prayer 'according to his ability'. At
the end of the Eucharistic Prayer the people acclaim all that
has been prayed in a great 'Amen!'. Communion is then dis-
tributed (no mention is made of the breaking of the bread)
and the deacons bring the Eucharist to those unable to be
present. Finally, those who wish and are able are invited to
make an offering which is collected and given to the presi-
dent who then sees to its distribution among the needier
members of the community: orphans and widows, the sick,
the poor, prisoners, visitors passing through town - anyone,
basically, who needs help (Cattaneo: 1992, pp. 61-3).
We can note a certain informality in this simple structure
of the Sunday Eucharist which Justin offers us. The reader
reads as long as time permits; there is no official lectionary
as yet. The president prays the Eucharistic Prayer 'according
to his ability'; there are no liturgical books and so he must
improvise. Then, as now, the gift of improvisation is given to
some and not to others, thus the president prays from mem-
ory as best as he is able. Also important here is the role of the
collection for the poor and the fact that the same individual
who presides over the Eucharist also presides over the cari-
tas or diakonia. Finally, the link between the absent mem-
bers and the assembly is also significant: deacons bring a por-
tion of the consecrated bread and wine to the homebound so
that they too can share in the one Eucharist. There is also
much which we don't know: how the liturgical ministers are
vested; how the space is arranged; the type of music that is
used; the style and format of prayers that are prayed. Even
so, in that primitive structure of the second century we can
 Worship in Development and Decline 45

recognize the pattern of the Eucharist which we Christians

continue to celebrate two thousand years later.
The Apostolic Tradition of 'Psuedo-Hippolytus' is another
important document in that it provides the first liturgical
texts to be used within Christian worship. Recent scholar-
ship attributes the document to 'Pseudo-Hippolytus' since
scholars fail to agree on the document's authorship or geo-
graphical origin. Moreover, its precise dating is difficult to
ascertain. Most place the document in the early third cen-
tury although several scholars such as Paul Bradshaw (1992)
date the text even later, suggesting that it might be a redac-
tion of several documents rather than one seamless text com-
posed at the same time. Be that as it may, the 'Apostolic
Tradition' offers us precious information on the liturgical life
and practice of the early Church.
The text can be seen in three distinct sections. The first
deals with the ordination of bishops, presbyters and deacons,
and with the commissioning of confessors, widows, readers,
sub-deacons, and the consecration of virgins. Also included
are details on the Eucharist. The second section involves
church orders for the laity. Here we learn much about the
three-year catechumenal process for adults desiring
Christian baptism and the actual rite of Christian Initiation.
The final section treats varied subjects such as fasting, visi-
tation of the sick, regular meetings of the clergy, the practice
of Christian burial, and the fixed times at which Christians
should pray each day. It is significant to note the inclusion in
the 'Apostolic Tradition' of a Eucharistic prayer which
served as the base text for the Second Eucharistic Prayer
which we find today in the Roman Missal of Paul VI. In
Justin's account of the Eucharist, we saw that the president
prays 'according to his ability'. In 'The Apostolic Tradition'
we can note greater liturgical structure and order; the mere
composition of liturgical texts alone suggests this.
Nonetheless, it is interesting to note that the text does allow
46 Worship

for the bishop to create his own Eucharistic Prayer if he

chooses to, provided that he is capable of liturgical improvi-
sation (Cattaneo: 1992, pp. 64-7).
The Didascalia Apostolorum (literally 'The Teaching of
the Apostles') dates from the same period and serves as the
foundation for the first six books of the 'Apostolic
Constitutions' (ca. 380). The Didascalia was a text addressed
to bishops and, in particular, refers to the bishops' presid-
ency within liturgical celebrations. Significant here is the
emphasis on hospitality. Visiting bishops are to be invited to
preach, to preside at that Eucharist or at least to 'concele-
brate' with the host bishop. Bishops are to be especially hos-
pitable to the poor. When regular members of the communi-
ty entered the assembly late on a Sunday morning, deacons
could assist them in finding their place. If, however, the late-
comer was a visitor - perhaps a foreigner - or especially if the
person was poor, elderly, or clearly in need, everything
changed: then the bishop himself was to rise and help the vis-
itor to find a place to sit. And if there were no places left, then
the bishop was to give his presidential seat to that visitor and
sit himself on the floor! This largely unknown document
offers us a marvellous example today of what all members of
the assembly are called to in welcoming one another as
Christ, especially those who stand at the margins of society.
Moreover, we see how the liturgical assembly is called to
stand prophetically in marked contrast to the assembly of
secular society (Jones: 1992, pp. 90-1).

Fourth Century Developments

With the 'Edict of Milan' in 313, the Church went public,
receiving freedom and equality with other religions and by
380, Christianity was proclaimed to be the official state reli-
gion. There were also interim developments. In 318, bishops
were granted civil jurisdiction over court cases which
 Worship in Development and Decline 47

involved Christians and their decisions were final. The bish-

ops also received a corresponding social status and rank
within the government and the corresponding insignia to
symbolize their importance such as the gold ring (used orig-
inally to seal official documents), and distinctive vesture like
the pallium. The cross had been worn by other Christians as
well as bishops and usually under the outer garment. Over
the centuries it become more ornate and stylized and became
another symbol of episcopal office. The mitre and bishop's
staff arrived later and began as practical items. The mitre
was originally worn as a simple hat to keep the bishop's head
warm during the stational liturgies as he processed from one
place to another. The staff was originally a walking stick to
support elderly bishops in the same processions. Later those
two items would receive episcopal significance, along with
greater ornamentation.
In the year 321, Constantine declared Sunday as a day of
rest for the whole empire. This was a great boon to a more
formalized liturgical structure since Christians were now
free from the burdens of their labour on that day and could
therefore participate in more elaborate liturgies.
Meanwhile, freedom of religion for Christians meant a
new wave of evangelization and baptisms and the obvious
need for larger worship spaces to accommodate the Church.
The basilica style of architecture was chosen as most suitable
for the Christian assembly. The first to be completed was the
Basilica of Saint John Lateran with a separate building - a
baptistery - for the immersion-baptism of new Christians on
Easter night. In the Graeco-Roman world, basilicas were
public, rectangular buildings creating three to five different
sections using structural columns as dividers, with the
emperor's throne in the front of the assembly. This concept
worked well for Christians, too. The large open space around
the perimeter of the assembly's space (the nave) could facili-
tate liturgical processions which would be an important part
48 Worship

of the 'Stational Liturgy' which flourished in Rome,

Constantinople and Jerusalem from the fourth through to
the eighth centuries. The elevated circular area in front of
the assembly accommodated the bishop's throne surrounded
by benches for his closest advisors ('the presbyters').
Moreover, it allowed space for an altar to celebrate the
Eucharist, an ambo to proclaim the readings (all movable
pieces), and space for other liturgical ministers. This imper-
ial style of architecture corresponded well to the imperial
nature of the post-Constantinian Church, and the increased
political role of bishops. That the presidential thrones of
bishops resembled the thrones of emperors would have been
understood by Christians of the fourth century given the role
which their bishops played in secular society. This is yet
another example of cultural borrowing with a reinterpreta-
tion for Christian purposes (Neunheuser: 1999, pp. 65-8).
After 380, with Christianity's coming of age, its leaders' - the
bishops' - influence continued to expand into all spheres of civil
government. They received the honour of being greeted by 'a
chorus of virgins' as they entered the basilica during stational
liturgies. They were served at their episcopal thrones with cov-
ered hands, along with full prostrations and the kissing of the
feet. Their portraits came to be hung in ecclesiastical offices - a
practice which continues to this day. The liturgy had its own
imperial style; the Roman Canon (Eucharistic Prayer I in the
Vatican II Missal) is a classic example. Its style is solemn and
even juridical with corresponding gestures coming from Roman
court ceremonial (for example, kneeling and beating one's
breast). To put it in contemporary terms, the Roman Canon
was an inculturated prayer because it was composed out of the
Roman cultural experience. Today, there are some in more con-
servative circles who advocate the use of the Roman Canon to
the exclusion of all other Eucharistic Prayers. Such a position
betrays an ignorance of liturgical history and of that prayer's
cultural context replete with court gestures and hieratic
 Worship in Development and Decline 49

language. The Roman Canon is a beautiful prayer and unfortu-

nately is often under-used in Catholic worship because of its
length. However, considering the other Eucharistic Prayers in the
Roman Missal as inferior is a failure to accept all that constitutes
the Church's rich tradition (Neunheuser: 1999, pp. 69-1).
The fourth century also saw the growth of the catechume-
nate - the period of preparation for Christian Initiation:
Baptism, Chrismation (Confirmation) and Eucharist. This
was the period where the ritual structure of Christian
Initiation developed and has been called the 'golden age' of
the catechumenate. This title was earned both because
Christian Initiation flourished in that epoch but also because
it was the time of the great baptismal preachers Theodore of
Mopsuestia, Cyril of Jerusalem, John Chrysystom and
Ambrose, who provided us with some of the most profound
homilies on Initiation which exist in the Christian tradition.
We find particularly helpful information on the catechume-
nal process in 'The Apostolic Tradition'. It suggests a three-
year period of preparation for the candidates although we
know that this varied from place to place depending on local
custom and the readiness of each candidate. That same doc-
ument provides a list of those professions which would auto-
matically make one ineligible as a candidate for Christian
Baptism - prostitution, sorcery, and so forth. Prior to admit-
tance into the programme, catechists would visit neighbours
and friends of the applicant to enquire about the individual's
lifestyle. Depending on the results of the survey, the person
would either be accepted or rejected.
Christian Initiation was hardly an individual affair. Once
enrolled in the catechumenate, it was the responsibility of
the entire community to walk together with those 'in train-
ing' as they prepared for full incorporation into the Body of
Christ. Catechumens joined the rest of the liturgical assem-
bly for the Word Service within the Sunday Eucharist but
would be dismissed before the Kiss of Peace which bridged
50 Worship

the Liturgies of the Word and the Eucharist, because 'their

kiss was not yet pure' as their bishops would remind them.
One can only imagine the excitement at the Easter Vigil
when those same individuals were led back into the basilica
from the baptistery, fresh from the baptismal pool from
which they had emerged, and offered that kiss to the other
members of the Church for the first time.
The community's role in the catechumenate can also be
seen in the origins of the Lenten fast. Lent itself emerged as
the final period of preparation of those to be baptized at
Easter - a time of fasting and more intense prayer. As a ges-
ture of solidarity and also recognizing their own need for
ongoing spiritual renewal, baptized members of the commu-
nity joined in the Lenten discipline as well. Christianity was
a serious commitment and so it was normally adults who
were baptized; children might be enrolled in the catechume-
nate but often delayed baptism for years. This was also the
case because the reconciliation of lapsed Christians had yet
to be worked out. The normal procedure was that there was
only one opportunity for post-baptismal reconciliation
between baptism and death so most believers chose the
moment of their initiation rather carefully Saint Augustine
is a classic example. As one who enjoyed life's worldly pleas-
ures - sex in particular - he delayed his baptism until adult-
hood when he reached a certain level of maturity. Eventually,
moved by the preaching of Ambrose of Milan, he asked for
Christian baptism and later became the Bishop of Hippo.
As bishop, Augustine did much to encourage participative
worship, reminding his North African community of the inti-
mate relationship between the mystery of the Eucharist and
the mystery of their own lives by saying: 'There you are on the
table, and there you are in the cup. It is your own mystery that
you celebrate.'
It is difficult for us to imagine today what liturgical partic-
ipation looked like in the fourth or fifth centuries. Augustine
 Worship in Development and Decline 51

does give us a certain glimpse, however, in Book 22 of his classic

work The City of God. He wrote in the year 426 about the open-
ing rite of the Eucharist one Easter Day: 1 advanced towards
the people. The church was full, and cries of joy echoed through-
out it: "Gloiy to God!", "God be praised!" No one was silent; the
shouts were coming from everywhere. I greeted the people and
they began to cry out again in their enthusiasm. Finally when
silence was restored, the readings from sacred scripture were
proclaimed.' Such participation was further exhibited by the
procession with the gifts as the faithful brought forward their
gifts: bread which they had baked, wine which they had made,
and alms for the poor (Cabie, Vol. 3: 1992, pp. 50, 7&-9). The
fullest sign of that participation, however, came in the sharing of
'the one bread and the one cup' during the Eucharist. It was not
enough for the faithful simply to eat of the consecrated bread;
all members of the liturgical assembly also drank from the chal-
ice as a fuller sign of Eucharistic sharing.
In this same epoch we see the evolution of the liturgical
calendar. Christmas began to be celebrated in Rome around
336. The date of December 25th was chosen as a Christening
of the pagan feast of the Winter Solstice in the West while the
feast of Epiphany on January 6th in the East was likewise a
replacement for the pagan feast of the virgin birth of
Dionysius and related legends of various epiphanies of pagan
gods recalled on that day. Some years later, towards the end
of the fourth century, the feast of John the Baptist was also
observed on June 24th - interestingly, at the summer's sol-
stice. Given John's relationship to Christ as forerunner, it is
probable that the two feasts were chosen in harmony. We see
a third Christianization of pagan feasts in the February feast
of the Chair of Saint Peter which celebrates the primacy of
the Bishop of Rome. The 22nd of that month had tradition-
ally been a pagan feast remembering Roman ancestors, and
was transformed into a Christian feast of Roman Primacy.
Later examples of the reinterpretation of pagan elements
52 Worship

include the seventh-century Christening of the Pantheon in

Rome. Built in the first century as a temple to all the gods,
the Church in the seventh-century dedicated it as a Christian
basilica to the saints; the Christian festival of All Saints on
November 1st originated there to commemorate the
Christening. To this day, the Christian name of the Pantheon
is the Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres (Chupungco:
1997, pp. 111-12).
The character of liturgy in Rome was simplicity. It grew
out of the Roman cultural genius characterized by brevity,
sobriety and noble simplicity. It was the British historian
Edmund Bishop who coined that description in his 1918
London address: 'The Genius of the Roman Rite'. In fact, the
Roman Church of that period simply borrowed what was the
classical Graeco-Roman poetic-literary style. This process of
adaptation, begun in the fourth century, was greatly helped
by Bishops of Rome like Damasus (+384), Innocent I (+417),
Leo the Great (+461), Gelasius (+496), Vigilius (+555), and
Gregory the Great (+604). What emerged was a style of wor-
ship uniquely Roman - simple and direct, balanced and
restrained.
There is no clearer example of this sobriety than in the
simple language of the Prayers after Communion which we
find in the early Roman sacramentaries. Unlike later texts in
the medieval period which speak of the sacred elements as
'the Body and Blood of Christ', such language is virtually
non-existent here. Rather, terms like 'spiritual food and
drink', 'heavenly gifts', and 'saving gifts' were employed.
Other texts speak of 'bread of heaven' and 'cup of salvation'
as continues to be an option today in The Book of Common
Prayer for the ministration of Holy Communion ('The Body
of Christ, the Bread of Heaven; The Blood of Christ, the Cup
of Salvation'). This, of course, is not to suggest that ancient
Roman Christians failed to believe in what would later be
called the real presence, but it simply wasn't part of the
 Worship in Development and Decline 53

Roman cultural genius to speak in such vivid terms.

This same noble simplicity continued in the Papal 'sta-
tionaT liturgy despite its elaborate processions typical of
Roman court ceremonial, as noted in one seventh-century
description from the Ordo Romanus I. The washing of the
president's hands is mentioned but appears to be purely
hygienic without any particular symbolism attached. The
altar was dressed only with a cloth at the preparation of the
gifts (it remained bare for the Liturgy of the Word) and was
presumably removed immediately after Communion. During
the Eucharistic Prayer the Pope stands alone at the altar
even in the presence of concelebrating clergy who remain in
their places. There are no genuflections at the words of con-
secration, no bells or incensation, and no signs of the cross
over the elements. The singing at the Entrance, Preparation
of the Gifts, and Communion lasted long enough to accom-
pany the rite and the Pope himself would signal to the choir
to stop the music when he and the assembly were ready to
proceed (Chupungco: 1997, pp. 136-7).
A word is in order about the stational liturgy itself. The
term statio dates back to the second century and was origin-
ally used more generally to describe public fasts. It later
came to signify assemblies convoked on specific days for spe-
cific purposes in pre-determined venues (Cabie: 1992, p. 47).
Stational liturgy consisted of gatherings of the local church
around its bishop on festal days and especially during the
Lenten season. On those occasions, Rome, Constantinople,
and Jerusalem, but also cities like Hippo and Aries, were all
transformed into sacred spaces as processions of the
Christian faithful with their bishops or patriarchs filled the
streets. The development of the liturgical calendar was close-
ly linked to the evolution of 'stational' liturgy, as was the lec-
tionary. On feast days, the lectio continua was interrupted so
that more thematic readings could be chosen to correspond
to the particular feast.
54 Worship

We have precious information on the stational system in

Jerusalem from the Spanish woman pilgrim, Egeria, who
travelled from her home in Galicia and remained in
Jerusalem for three years, from 384 to 387. She observed the
liturgical life there, especially the daily prayer of the com-
munity during Lent and Holy Week, and recorded the details
in her journal with extraordinary detail. Egeria's testimony
presents 'stational' liturgy as a movable feast where the
entire body - both individual and collective - was used to
express its praise of God. Christian worship in fourth cen-
tury Jerusalem was a communal event gathered around the
bishop with the different ministries shared by those present.
Present within the liturgical assembly were also urban
monks and nuns who played their own active role. Of partic-
ular interest is Egeria's attention to the common praying of
the sung liturgical offices - Morning and Evening Prayer -
which included the full complement of liturgical ministries
and vesture, use of light and incense, processions with the
singing of hymns, and a strong emphasis on praise and inter-
cession. Psalms and hymn texts were often sung responsive-
ly or antiphonally, allowing for easy memorization of the
texts and enabling free movement during processions.
On feast days in Rome, venues were chosen for stational
liturgy depending on which basilicas contained the saint's
relics. When the liturgical celebrations were not memorials
of saints (for example, during Lent), other thematic connec-
tions between the liturgical day and the basilica were sought.
Since the pope or his delegate always presided at these litur-
gies, they were the most solemnly celebrated rites within the
city, with the attendance of as many of Rome's clergy and
laity as were able to be present. Accompanied by his clergy
and assistants, he processed from the first station (for exam-
ple, the Lateran Palace where the Bishop of Rome resided) to
the assigned basilica (the second station) for that day's
Eucharist. As the Bishop of Rome departed from his resi-
 Worship in Development and Decline 55

dence with his assistants, the seven major geographical

regions of the city had their own processions choreographed
to arrive at the basilica at more or less the same time. Those
seven processions were each led by the processional cross car-
ried by the deacon who oversaw the diakonia (outreach cen-
tres for the needy) in those neighbourhoods. When the Pope
arrived with his clergy, he was greeted at the doors of the
basilica by the clergy of that place accompanied by a chorus
of virgins. After each one paid the proper homage he was
then led to the Sacristy for the vesting in liturgical vest-
ments. This was the principal Eucharist of the day. Despite
its solemnity, the papal, stational liturgy maintained that
noble simplicity typical of the classic Roman rite.
The unity of the local church with its bishop celebrated in
the stational liturgy was especially evident in the ancient
practice called the fermentum (literally 'leaven'). Roman
presbyters were obliged to celebrate the Eucharist on
Sundays and feast days in their own churches (tituli) for
those who could not take part in the solemn papal Eucharist.
As a symbol of the communion shared between the Bishop of
Rome and hisflock- present and absent - the bishop broke
off small pieces of his host at the time of Communion which
would be given to each of the tituli for their own Eucharist
that day. The small piece of that host was then carried by the
acolytes or deacons back to those churches. At the moment of
Communion, the presbyters would place the small fragment
of the papal host in the chalice. Pope Innocent I attests to
this practice in a famous letter sent to Decentius, Bishop of
Gubbio, in the year 415. It is not clear when the custom was
introduced, and after the seventh century, with the waning of
stational liturgy, it was only continued at the Easter Vigil
(Cabie: 1992, p. 111).
Be that as it may, despite popular allegorical interpretations
which have continued to the present day, the fermentum never
symbolized the co-mingling of Christ's body and blood as some
56 Worship

have suggested. The Eucharist celebrated by the presbyters in

their churches constituted a second type of Roman liturgy of
that era - obviously less solemn than the papal event, with cor-
responding liturgical books. Interestingly, the original inten-
tion of the tituli was for catechesis and penitential services
while the basilicas were normative venues for Baptism and
Eucharistic celebrations. This changed for practical reasons as
the Church continued to grow. These smaller communities
were not seen as parishes in the modern sense. The true parish
was the diocese and the bishop was the pastor. Thus the fer-
mentum symbolizes the unity within the one parish with its
pastor - the bishop. As the Church grew and spread beyond
the walls of the city, smaller churches were established in the
countryside with their own presbyters. Those communities
were called 'parishes' and their presbyters were called 'pas-
tors'. Innocent's letter to Decentius notes that the fermentum
is not carried to those communities outside the walls but only
to the tituli - clearly there is a different relationship. Here we
find a third type of Roman liturgy: the smaller, less formal
Roman Eucharist with fewer liturgical ministries, less music.
Later, the Eucharist celebrated in specialized groups (celebra-
tions during pilgrimages to the tombs of martyrs, votive
Masses, private Masses celebrated in the pope's private chapel
with his domestic staff) would find their origins in this third
grouping. In this third type of Roman Eucharist we also locate
the foundations for the ferial order of Mass and private cele-
brations without a congregation (except for one server) offered
on behalf of the deceased or the living (Senn: 1997, pp. 182-3).

The Medieval Period

After the Baptism of Clovis in 496, Rome witnessed a large
influx of pilgrims - with many bishops and abbots among
them - and this had a significant effect on the Roman Rite's
propagation far beyond the confines of that city. Indeed, were
 Worship in Development and Decline 57

it not for this sociological reality of pilgrimage with its inher-

ent transmigration, it is quite probable that the Roman Rite
would have remained a localized rite within the Church of
Rome as is the case with other rites both in East and West
(for example, Milan's Ambrosian Rite). Franco-Germanic
bishops and abbots coming from northern Europe were
accustomed to a liturgical life which was anything but sober
and brief, but when they visited Rome they desired to bring
Roman liturgical traditions home with them to their local
churches. Gallican worship, which thrived especially in the
eighth century, was typically elaborate and sensual, with
more gestures and longer prayers, and greater use of incense.
Unlike the Roman Rite, those who presided in the Gallican
rite had a more prominent and perhaps theatrical or intru-
sive role within the celebration. Returning home from Rome,
those bishops and abbots endeavoured to imitate something
of the Roman liturgical spirit which they had experienced
and proceeded to introduce Roman elements into their own
liturgies in the north. What they often copied was the Papal
Stational liturgy, adapted to the contexts of their own dio-
ceses and monasteries. One can imagine the resistance in the
Franco-Germanic territories to the introduction of such
Roman elements since those ideas were utterly foreign to the
genius of that culture. Nonetheless, certain Roman liturgical
traditions did find a home in the north, and the face of
Gallican worship was changed.
The story doesn't end there, however. As the migration of
abbots and bishops continued along with a succession of
German popes from 1046 to 1057, thanks to the political
scheming of Emperor Otto I, Franco-Germanic elements
from the north easily found a home within Roman worship.
Without giving it much thought, those German popes cele-
brated the Gallicanized Roman Liturgy which they had
known in their own dioceses. Even prior to their arrival, with
the absence of a scriptorium to transcribe liturgical books in
58 Worship

Rome during the pontificate of Gregory V (996-9) the

Franco-Germanic liturgy became normative in the Lateran
Basilica, thanks to the gift of Gallican liturgical books pro-
vided by the monks of Reichenau. In other words, Roman
liturgical influence began to reverse itself and the 'pure and
classic' Roman Rite ceased to be 'pure and classic'. The
singing of the Nicene Creed on Sundays, for example, was
never a Roman tradition. But when Henry II travelled to
Rome in the eleventh century for his coronation, he asked
permission to have the Creed sung together as was the cus-
tom in his native land. The permission was granted and the
Creed became part of the Roman Rite in 1014, but never as
a fixed element. Charlemagne had already introduced it into
the Gallican liturgy in the year 794. The Church of Milan
which followed the Ambrosian Rite (and still does) adopted
the Eastern practice of placing the Creed immediately before
the Eucharistic Prayer in the ninth century (Cabie: 1992, pp.
131-2). The apologetic prayers (such as 'O Lord, I am not
worthy to receive you ...') are also typical of Gallican wor-
ship. They, too, eventually entered into Roman worship, and
while the liturgical reforms of Vatican II attempted to purify
the Roman Rite of such apologetic texts, examples such as
the one given above along with numerous private prayers of
the priest are still found in the Missal today.
Liturgical exchange moved as much between East and West
as it did between north and south. The penitential and inter-
cessory Kyrie Eleision was Greek in origin, and the singing of
the 'Alleluia' as an acclamation prior to the gospel proclama-
tion existed in various Eastern liturgies long before it was
known in the Roman Rite. It arrived in Rome during the sev-
enth century at about the same time the Eastern litany 'Lamb
of God' was introduced by Syrian Pope Sergius I (+701).
Feasts of the Nativity of Mary and the Presentation in the
Temple arrived from the East in that same epoch (Cabie:
1992, pp. 65; 110). Litanies (for example, the Prayers of
 Worship in Development and Decline 59

Intercession) were also eastern in origin. There were also

some foreign liturgical traditions which were rejected. Despite
the venerable tradition in the East of distributing communion
by intinction (dipping the consecrated bread into the chalice),
the Council of Braga rejected that idea in the year 675 and
again at the Synod of Clermont in 1095, arguing for a contin-
uation of the giving of the chalice as the fuller symbol.
Despite such occasional rejections, however, liturgical bor-
rowing from one rite to another remained the order of the
day, and what we now consider the 'Roman Rite' is, in fact, a
hybrid of various rites which were gradually mixed together
to create something new. Such cultural-liturgical exchange is
not insignificant as we study the Roman Rite in its contem-
porary form and examine questions of liturgical culturation.
Those who argue for a strict adherence to the Roman Rite
would need to be asked: 'Which Roman Rite?' For in order to
arrive at the pure and classical Roman Rite, we would need
to return to the fifth century when that rite was untouched
and in its purest form. In its purity it was also what we would
call today 'inculturated' since it was an authentic expression
of Roman culture - just as the Gallican Rite expressed the
Franco-Germanic genius.
The attempted Romanization of the Franco-Germanic
Rite is attributed to Pipin the Short (751-68) and his son
Charlemagne (774-814) who did their best to use the Roman
liturgy as an instrument of political power for the empire and
to strengthen bonds with the See of Peter. Their task was
easier said than done, however, since the Gallican Rite with-
in the empire knew many different forms and variations. As
leaders of their local churches, bishops had the final say in
the liturgical life of their dioceses (including liturgical struc-
ture and texts) and there was tremendous liturgical variety
from diocese to diocese. Thus, attempts at liturgical central-
ization using the Roman Rite as model would meet some sig-
nificant challenges. The Roman liturgy was adapted in the
60 Worship

empire, but with some substantial variations (what we might

today call 'cultural adaptation') according to local customs
and liturgical usage.
Bent on liturgical unity with Rome and on the suppression
of Gallican sacramentaries, Charlemagne petitioned Pope
Hadrian I in 783 to send a pure Roman Sacramentary which
could then be used as a foundational text for the liturgical cen-
tralization of his empire. The emperor had to wait several
years to receive the desired book and when it finally arrived it
was less than helpful. What the Pope sent was a Gregorian
Sacramentary for use in papal stational liturgies. Hadrian had
obviously misunderstood the request, sending a beautifully
adorned book perfect for ornamental display in the Palace but
impractical. It was missing prayer texts for the Sundays after
Epiphany, the Octaves of Easter and Pentecost, as well as
prayers for funerals, votive Masses and blessings. In short, the
book was hardly a practical tool for pastoral life within the
Franco-Germanic Empire. Continuing his quest in the year
789, Charlemagne wrote that his father Pipin had, in fact,
banned the Gallican Rite from the empire during his reign in
favour of the Roman Rite as a means of fostering greater unity
with Rome. Determined to have a complete Roman
Sacramentary at his disposal, he sought the help of Benedict of
Aniane (+821) to assist him. Missing prayer and Mass texts
were eventually supplied with Benedict's help in a supplement
called the Hucusque ('Up to this Point'). The irony, of course,
was that Benedict used local Gallican elements at his disposal
in the supplement, so Gallican liturgical elements entered into
that Roman Sacramentary anyway, and Charlemagne's
attempts at Romanizing the Gallican liturgy turned out to be
a certain Gallicanizing of the Roman Rite.
The Medieval Period reflects a gradual 'distancing of God',
as the Sacramental theologian Bernard Cooke called it in a
book by the same name (The Distancing of God: The
Ambiguity of Symbol in History and Theology, 1990). The
 Worship in Development and Decline 61

liturgy became remote and distant - the property of clergy who

would perform liturgical acts on behalf of their people
who would be otherwise engaged in pious devotions. This
'distancing of God' was not limited to the liturgy. It was
experienced in other forms of Church life as well, especially
in the tenth century when the immorality of the papacy had
reached extraordinary heights. While one could cite a num-
ber of examples, there is none better than recalling the papa-
cy of John XII (955-65) who was elected at age eighteen. He
was more interested in debauchery and sex than in the spir-
itual building of the Church. His own clergy in Rome accused
him of simony, ordaining a ten-year-old boy bishop, and of
turning the Lateran Palace into a brothel. He died of a stroke
at age twenty-eight in the arms of a married woman. The
alternate theory is that he was killed by a jealous husband.
Liturgy always reflects who the Church is, so it was not sur-
prising that the Church's decadence in that period left little
time for the composition of new liturgical books (Cattaneo:
1992, p.192).
As we examine liturgical shifts in the Middle Ages, we need
to recognize that the change was gradual and must be seen
together with other changes in philosophical and theological
understanding, as well as the socio-cultural history of the
period. Having survived the decadence of the tenth century,
the credibility of the Church was restored in the eleventh
century, thanks to the papal election of the Tuscan reformer
Gregory VII (1073-85). Liturgically, the monastic reforms in
Cluny, France, played an important role, which had a signif-
icant effect on liturgical life in monasteries throughout
Europe, ultimately influencing the worship of the whole
Church.
Roman liturgists of the twelfth century attempted to purify
the liturgy of Gallican elements and restore the cultural
genius of the classic Roman Rite in new liturgical books. This
was done with varying degrees of success. The thirteenth cen-
62 Worship

tury saw a significant change in the advent of the Missal. Pope

Innocent III (1198 -1216) wanted to create a liturgy that cor-
responded to the needs of the Roman Curia. In that period
Curial life involved a fair bit of travel and movement. A sim-
plified Roman liturgy with all the texts in one book (rather
than three or four) would be preferable for an itinerant life on
the road. The same was done with the Breviary and
Pontifical. The Franciscan friars soon recognized the appeal
of a one-volume Missal and Breviary since they were itiner-
ants par excellence. While that simplified liturgy and book sat-
isfied particular pastoral needs of the thirteenth century, it
also corresponded negatively to a further diminishment of
liturgical participation in the life of the faithful. Traditionally,
there were different liturgical books used by the appropriate
liturgical minister - the Sacramentary for the one presiding;
the Lectionary for the lector; the book of the gospels for the
deacon. The exercising of these different roles represented the
rich diversity inherent within the body of Christ. But as those
ministries were gradually subsumed into the same individual
- the priest - the idea of a missal made sense, not only for a
travelling pope and itinerant friars, but also for the whole
Church. Not surprisingly, the 'private' Mass grew in popular-
ity. Even when there was a congregation present, the priest
was still obliged to recite all the readings and liturgical texts
silently to himself as they were proclaimed or sung by others.
This concept would gradually gain ground, reaching its cli-
max in 1570 with the promulgation of Pius V's Missal for the
whole Church, which remained authoritative for four hun-
dred years until the Second Vatican Council.
The 'distancing of God' was especially acute at the
Eucharist. Unleavened bread was introduced in the West in
the eleventh century. Since the laity had ceased the practice of
frequent communion, the bringing of bread and wine from the
home no longer made sense (Cabie: 1992, p. 132). Increasingly,
there was an emphasis on adoring the Eucharist rather than
 Worship in Development and Decline 63

sharing it. The Eucharistic Prayer came to be prayed in a low

voice or completely inaudibly. The sanctuary or presbyterium
became the 'holy of holies' where only the clergy were wel-
come. The lay faithful kept their distance and were separated
by a 'roodscreen' made of wood, clearly demarcating the litur-
gical space; gradually that barrier became more opaque.
Choirs replaced the laity in singing the Mass; the procession of
the laity with the gifts ceased; private Masses abounded. For
his part, Pope Gregory VII did attempt to revive the people's
procession of gifts, at least on solemnities. Nonetheless, liturgy
had become the property of the clergy so much so that liturgi-
cal books even failed to acknowledge the presence of the laity
at public Masses. The normative way of celebrating Mass was
essentially without a congregation, even when a congregation
was present. The Eucharist had become something which the
priest did for others, rather than the one sacrifice of Christ
offered together as Christ's body. At the same time the Council
of Rouen decreed that the Eucharist could no longer be placed
in the hands of the laity. As a further sign of respect, commu-
nicants began kneeling to receive the sacrament. This was also
practical so that the minister could more easily place the host
on the tongue of the communicant. By the thirteenth century,
the chalice was withheld from the lay faithful, as well (Cabie:
1992, pp. 135-6; 138-9).
As Christian worship became increasingly distant from the
faithful, it was no surprise that popular devotions grew.
From the eleventh through the thirteenth centuries we find
significant growth in Eucharistic adoration and benediction,
forty-hours devotion and Corpus Christi processions, Marian
devotions (e.g. the rosary), novenas, and prayers to the
saints. Those devotions often connected the laity with the
humanity of Christ and the saints, helped by groups such as
the Franciscans who popularized the Christmas creche with
its emphasis on Mary's maternity and Christ's earthly birth.
Popular devotions gave the laity a role - prayers which they
64 Worship

could offer as the priest offered the sacrifice of the Mass. The
rosary itself with its fifteen decades functioned as a type of
lay psalter and corresponded to the 150 psalms prayed week-
ly by monks and nuns in their cloisters. This allowed for
some form of prayer to replace the Liturgy of the Hours
which had traditionally been prayed by the whole Church
but was now relegated to the clergy (using the Breviary) and
monks, nuns, or other religious persons.
The founding of lay confraternities, guilds and congrega-
tions in this period helped Christian women and men to find
their own voice with their common prayer and non-liturgical
preaching (often done by lay people), their spiritual exer-
cises, and charitable deeds toward the poor and especially the
dying. Some of those groups continue to exist in Europe
today, in places like Seville, Granada, Malaga in southern
Spain, and in Sicily and other parts of southern Italy. They
are easily identified in their Holy Week processions through
the streets of those cities and still meet throughout the year
for regular activities.
Within the liturgy, however, the laity remained passive
spectators. When communion was given it tended to occur
before or after Mass but not during. Members of the faithful
could make their * spiritual communion' with the priest as he
communicated himself. They were convinced that they were
too unworthy to do otherwise. Miracles grew during this
period, especially regarding the Eucharist. Gone were the
days when the assembly saw itself as the body of Christ and
received the Eucharist both symbolizing their own member-
ship in that body and communion with one another. The
Mass had become the priest's offering as he celebrated ad
orientem (toward the East) with his back to the assembly.
Around 1200, the host and chalice came to be elevated dur-
ing the Eucharistic Prayer and a bell was rung to alert the
assembly that the consecration had arrived. It was believed
that special graces were bestowed upon those present at that
 Worship in Development and Decline 65

moment. People began bringing their animals to church,

believing that their pets could also be healed if they were in
church at the time of the elevation. Some argued that the
longer the host was elevated, the more grace would be
bestowed. In the twelfth-century English countryside, there
were reports of parishioners who begged their pastor to keep
the host elevated: 'Higher, Sir John, higher!' they would
beseech him. Other reports emerged of bleeding hosts, or
legends that those who received the Lord's body and blood
would never grow old. Such interpretations, of course, would
have appeared rather strange to fourth-century bishops like
Augustine of Hippo. It also appeared strange to Thomas
Cranmer several centuries later. He wondered: 'What made
the people to run from their seats to the altar, and from altar
to altar ... peeping, tooting, and gazing at that thing which
the priest held up in his hands, if they thought not to honour
the thing which they saw? What moved the priests to lift up
the sacrament so high over their heads? Or the people to say
to the priest 'Hold up! Hold up!' (Senn: 1997, p. 225).
In this same era, Masses celebrated with corresponding
stipends for 'special intentions' grew, believing that the more
Masses one could have said, the more grace would be
obtained either for deceased relatives and friends or for the
living. 'Chantry priests' or 'altarists' as they were called in
England were kept quite busy celebrating Mass continuous-
ly throughout the day to keep up with the demand; some cel-
ebrated as many as 25 or 30 Masses per day, each of which
came with a stipend. The German liturgical scholar Adolf
Adam notes that by the fifteenth century in Breslau there
were 236 'altarists' at two churches celebrating Mass all day,
every day (Adam: 1992, p 32). Greater stipends were given to
priests who elevated the host for a longer time. Obviously,
wealthier Christians were the ones who could afford such
Masses and therefore the poorer members of the Church
were at a disadvantage for obtaining grace on behalf of their
66 Worship

loved ones. More money came to be equated with greater pos-

sibilities for grace, the remission of sin, and especially 'the
shortening of one's sentence' in purgatory. Church offices
(ministries) also came to be 'sold' in this period and sexual
immorality on the part of the clergy was not uncommon.
In general, the Renaissance witnessed an ever-greater inter-
est in magic - both good (i.e. 'natural') and bad (i.e. 'demonic')
magic. Thus, magical interpretations of the Eucharist abound-
ed and the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries witnessed further
liturgical decay. Mass was interpreted allegorically based on dif-
ferent moments of Christ's life (for example, in the Gloria we
recall Christ's birth) and came to be seen as having a limited
value. The main concern was with the 'fruits' of the Mass and
the application of those fruits to particular intentions and indi-
viduals. It was more advantageous to have a Mass said for one
person than to be offered for individuals together with others.
This opinion was fuelled by the duplication of Masses - one
intention per Mass since priests were forbidden to accept sev-
eral stipends for the same Mass (Senn: 1997, pp. 258-9).
Clericalism did not abate and apathy was on the rise as lay
Catholics were increasingly disillusioned with their clergy.
Positively, this was also the time of religious movements
like Devotio Moderna and of great spiritual leaders like
Meister Eckhart (+1327), Joan of Arc (+1431) and Thomas
a Kempis (+1471). But these mystics with their expressions
of religious piety did little to restore the Church's liturgical
life. The German Benedictine historian Burkhard Neunheuser
has referred to this period as the 'autumn' of the Middle Ages
precisely because of an absence of theological and ecclesio-
logical foundations in the worship of that day (Neunheuser:
1999, pp. 127-31). Soon, sixteenth-century reformers would
raise significant, albeit unsolicited, questions about the
Church's liturgical practice which would forever change the
face of Christian worship.
 3
Worship in Crisis and Challenge
The Reformation

Confusion about the basics of Christian worship and theo-

logy continued well into the sixteenth century and one can
easily see how Martin Luther (+1546) raised a cry against
what he saw as a 'double standard'. Desires for reform had
already been present in the Middle Ages, expressed by
reformer popes like Gregory VII, and later by women and
men like Catherine of Siena, Joan of Arc, Girolamo
Savanarola, Giordano Bruno and others. In his own day,
Luther was not alone in the problems and corruption he
observed or in his calling the Church to greater authenticity.
Arriving at Augsburg, for example, the German Jesuit Peter
Canisius was shocked to discover that he could only find three
priests in the entire city who were not living in concubinage.
The Roman Catholic Church at the Council of Trent
(1545-63) would also acknowledge its need for reform even as
it defended itself against the Protestant reformers. It is very
important, therefore, that the sixteenth-century reformation
be seen in its proper historical and ecclesiological context.
A close look at Luther's fundamental theology reveals -
appropriately - the heart of an Augustinian. Luther had been
an Augustinian prior to his departure from the Catholic
Church and even served as prior of his community in Rome
for two years. Like Augustine, Luther argued that the
Eucharist was God's gracious gift to the Church - indeed, all
was God's gift. What he saw in the medieval doctrine of the
Mass as 'sacrifice' was too much emphasis on human initia-
tive bordering on the Pelagian, and too little emphasis on our
receptivity as graced sinners too poor to offer God anything
at all. As a good Augustinian, he also recognized baptism as
68 Worship

the common denominator - the great equalizer in the

Church - not clerical ordination. Indeed, all Christians were
priests by virtue of that baptism into Christ. Thus, there
were more than a few problems with the clericalized liturgy
which he observed, and the kinds of economic abuses with
Mass stipends and indulgences along with assorted supersti-
tious practices which surrounded Eucharistic celebrations.
Christian worship had become pompous and increasingly
removed from the baptized. The exaggerated devotion to the
saints presented further problems for living the Christo-
centric life in God's grace; Christ was the only intercessor
before God. It must also be said that there is a marked dif-
ference between the young, more conservative Luther and
the older, more polemical Luther.
In 1520, Luther composed his famous treatise 'The
Babylonian Captivity of the Church', which explains his under-
standing of the Christian sacraments. As the title would sug-
gest, he endeavoured to liberate the Christian sacraments from
their captivity so that they might again be God's gifts for God's
people - communicating God's grace. Because of papal error
where sacraments had been misused and misrepresented,
Christians were deprived of their life-giving source. In that
document he lamented three particular aspects of the Church's
enslavement: the denial of the chalice to all the baptized, the
doctrine of transubstantiation, and the medieval doctrine of the
sacrificial character of the Mass. Luther attacked both the Mass
as a work and the Mass as a sacrifice offered to God, and con-
sequently he abolished any notion of a Eucharistic celebration
without a congregation - 'private' Mass - since it made no
sense. With strong emphasis on communal worship he also
abolished private confession and argued in favor of vernacular
worship so that the faithful might have greater access to the
rites. And he published his own writings in German so that he
might influence a wider audience.
In analysing the legacy of the Reformation, there is a ten-
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 69

dency on the part of some Roman Catholics to lump the

reformers into one bunch - 'the Protestants'. This is less
than helpful since each reformer had a unique agenda.
Clearly, Martin Luther was the most Catholic of all. Ulrich
Zwingli, Martin Bucer, and John Calvin argued for a far more
radical reform than Luther's and criticized him for an
approach which still appeared too Catholic. Influenced by the
humanists, Zwingli set out on his reform as parish priest in
Zurich. Like his contemporary Luther, Zwingli's early
reforms were rather conservative, but gradually became
more and more 'Protestant' in what he advocated liturgic-
ally. Three years after Luther's 'Babylonian Captivity',
Zwingli composed his Latin treatise in 1523 on the 'Canon of
the Mass'. In that text he called for vernacular usage in the
proclamation of the scripture readings and replaced the
Canon with four prayers: a thanksgiving prayer; an epicletic
prayer so as to receive the benefits of holy communion; an
anamnesis recalling redemption; and a prayer to worthily
receive the body and blood of Christ.
Two years later, in 1525, Zwingli replaced his Latin
reformed liturgy with a German one, calling for the
Eucharistic celebration only four times each year with the
liturgical ministers wearing academic gowns rather than
standard liturgical vesture. Zwingli's logic was that in the
Middle Ages, the most devout Catholics received the
Eucharist no more than four times a year. He also reformed
the altar, which became a communion table, and the process
of receiving communion: bread and wine was served to the
assembly in their pews using wooden trays and small cups.
This was done with the aim of imitating the style of the Last
Supper as a meal where all were seated together at the table
and especially where all received together. This was in sharp
contrast to the Lutheran rite which continued to follow the
medieval practice of offering holy communion only to those
who were so inclined and had prepared accordingly. Zwingli's
70 Worship

rites suggest a clear presence of Christ in the Eucharistic cel-

ebration despite the criticism of Luther and others who
argued that Zwingli's Eucharist was nothing more than a
memorial or a pledge. Curiously, there was little liturgical
participation in Zwingli's reformed rite, with the exception of
the moment of communion itself and the 'Amen' offered in
response to a prayer (Senn: 1997, pp. 362-3).
Unlike Zwingli, Martin Bucer's Strasbourg reform and
John Calvin's work in Geneva defended the practice of week-
ly Eucharist on the Lord's Day since that tradition was
founded in the Christian scriptures. Bucer had greater success
than Calvin in this regard, fostering the dominical practice of
Eucharist at the Cathedral in Strasbourg. Bucer's vernacular
rite was produced in 1524 and bore resemblance to Zwingli's
liturgical structure with some modifications. Indeed, he
stood the middle ground between Luther's Catholic conser-
vatism and Zwingli's very Protestant approach both to the-
ology and worship. From 1525 until 1539, Bucer guided the
revision of the Strasbourg liturgy devised by the conservative
reformer Diobald Schwartz in 1524, and oversaw no fewer
than eighteen revisions. This led to the 1539 publication of
the definitive Strasbourg German Mass. His liturgical
reforms also became the foundation for John Calvin's and
influenced Thomas Cranmer's (+1556) composition of the
Book of Common Prayer. It is also plausible that Bucer's
liturgical structure had some influence upon Luther's
reforms as well (Jones: 1992, pp. 300-3).
John Calvin's desire for weekly Eucharist was ultimately
vetoed by the Geneva City Council which opted to follow
Zurich in the quarterly celebration since it had been accept-
ed by the Reformed cities and cantons of Switzerland. When
the Eucharist was celebrated, Calvin insisted that there
needed to be at least one other communicant besides the
minister leading the service and that all members of the
church were obligated to receive communion at least once a
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 71

year. While briefly exiled from Geneva in 1538, Calvin

encountered Bucer at Strasbourg, and published a French
version of Bucer's Strasbourg liturgy in 1540 with some
changes. Returning to Geneva the following year, he intro-
duced a simplified version of that worship service, using the
Strasbourg foundations for his own liturgical rite in 1542
which included a liturgy of the Word followed by the Eucharist.
On the Sundays when the Eucharist was celebrated, the
Services of the Word and Eucharist were bridged by the
Apostles Creed (following the Bidding Prayers and Lord's
Prayer) at which time the altar table was prepared. The
Words of Institution were kept not as a consecration of the
elements but rather as a kind of 'mission statement' procla-
mation as to why the community had been convoked for wor-
ship (Senn: 1997, p. 364).
Compared to other European countries, the English
Reformation had a late start and its agenda differed from
what developed on the continent. Among other things, the
relationship between the monarchy and the Church had been
close and did not see the revolts typical of Reformation strong-
holds like Germany. At the heart of the English Reform was
the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) and the main figure was
Thomas Cranmer (+1556). Unlike other liturgical books of
the Reformation, the BCP relied heavily on earlier Catholic
liturgical source material (pontificals, missals, church offices...),
along with solid liturgical principles like full liturgical partic-
ipation by the faithful and vernacular worship. Cranmer was
influenced by his observation of Lutheran worship at
Nuremberg in the year 1532, but even prior to Cranmer's
Nuremberg sojourn, Lutheran liturgical books had already
found their way into England during the 1520s.
Like Luther, Cranmer's liturgical innovations were grad-
ual. Work on his 1552 Communion Service, for example, was
actually begun five years earlier in 1547 when he first intro-
duced English into the Latin Mass. It was the same with
72 Worship

Cranmer's reform of Morning and Evening Prayer: he had

first introduced the vernacular into those offices in 1543 and
completed work on them nine years later in 1552. The publi-
cation of the 1549 BCP, then, was not to be the final word but
rather a provisional text. Indeed, there was nothing flippant
or superficial about Cranmer's approach; rather, we see the
hand of a careful and thoughtful crafter of liturgical texts.
Commenting on Cranmer's BCP, R. T. Beckwith notes: 'It
achieves the difficult art of being contemporary without being
colloquial, of achieving dignity without sacrificing vigour, and
of expressing fervour without lapsing into sentimentality'
(Jones: 1992, p. 104). The 1549 BCP shows the influence of
Gallican and Eastern liturgies, as well as medieval Roman
influences. The Eucharistic Prayer itself was a revised version
of the Roman Canon.
Of special interest was Cranmer's emphasis on three dis-
tinct liturgical spaces for the assembly with proper move-
ment from one to another. Congregants were led from the
area of the font located near the main entrance at the build-
ing's west end into the nave where together the baptized
would hear and reflect upon God's Word. At the offertory,
members of the assembly were to move from the nave to the
'sanctuary' or chancel where they would gather around the
altar for the Eucharist (Senn: 1997, pp. 372-3). Cranmer was
ahead of his time in his use of liturgical space, recognizing
what many other churches would only come to understand
with the liturgical reforms of the twentieth century.
There were, of course, limits to Cranmer's reforms. With a
largely illiterate Church at the time, for example, attempts to
implement his reforms were easier said than done. Music and
ceremonial elements of the liturgy were simplified as a result
and replaced with wordy catechetical exhortations. None-
theless, the accomplishments far outweigh the weaknesses:
vernacular worship replaced Latin; the lectionary was
reformed and liturgical preaching reinstated; liturgical par-
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 73

ticipation by the laity returned including the giving of the

chalice to all communicants; and the many daily offices were
simplified into two: Morning and Evening Prayer. Moreover,
those doctrines (for example, transubstantiation and the sac-
rificial nature of the Mass) which were difficult to compre-
hend were either reinterpreted or in some cases completely
abolished. The BCP was reissued in 1559, 1604, and 1662
with only minor revisions (Jones: 1992, pp. 104-5).
Limits of space prohibit further attention to liturgical
developments within the Reformation. This brief glimpse,
however, demonstrates the complex diversity within the
liturgical agendas of the reformers. Lutheran scholar Frank
Senn notes a further distinction between Lutheran and
Reformed liturgy: in the arena of public worship. Whereas
Lutheran worship continued to uphold the classic liturgical
collect prayers and litanies of the Church, reformed liturgy
typical of the Anabaptists (literally 'rebaptizers') placed a
greater emphasis on intercessory prayers for the needs of
human society and also on free-style, extemporaneous prayer
which continues to exemplify reformed worship even today
(Senn: 1997, pp. 36-8). Meanwhile, as Calvin was imple-
menting his reforms in Switzerland, and as Cranmer drafted
his own liturgical texts in England, Catholic bishops were
gathering in Italy to formulate a response to what they
viewed as Reformation 'attacks' and also to confront their
own issues and problems within their Church

The Council of Trent

Church historians have long debated over whether the
Council of Trent represented a 'counter-reformation' or a
'Catholic Reformation'. At the risk of over-simplification,
more conservative observers tend to opt for the former: the
Church wanted to 'counter' the Reformation of the
Protestants, while progressives prefer to speak of the latter,
74 Worship

recognizing the Church's own need for reformation in the

sixteenth century. In many respects, both camps are correct.
In the first place, the Catholic Church needed to respond to
the reformers and clarify its own position: its own future
depended upon such a clarification since Luther and his col-
leagues were taking Catholics along with them into their new
churches. On the other hand, it was also quite true that there
were abuses within the Church, problems to be corrected and
issues to be confronted. These problems ranged from simony
and sexual immorality of the clergy; the selling of indul-
gences; too much superstition attached to the Mass; the
problem of Mass stipends; and too much unevenness in
Catholic liturgical celebrations with a concomitant lack of
uniformity. In general, a decay in liturgical/sacramental
understanding held sway in the sixteenth century, and while
few bishops at the Council would have wanted to admit it,
the objections raised by Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin were not
without cause.
The liturgical reforms of Trent are often portrayed as con-
servative. There was an underlying concern for the central-
ization of Roman Catholic worship with a newfound emphasis
on rubrics and sacramental celebrations which were 'rubri-
cally correct'. In the words of the late British Jesuit liturgist
Clifford Howell, 'Every word printed in black had to be
uttered, every action printed in red had to be performed' (C.
Howell, 'From Trent to Vatican II', in Jones: 1992, p. 288).
Moreover, there was the determination to reaffirm the
Catholicity of the Mass in its full sacrificial sense. It would be
inaccurate, however, to ignore the Council's pastoral agenda
and even pastoral sensitivity. Issues such as vernacular wor-
ship and the giving of the chalice to the laity were discussed
at length and the record shows bishops on both sides of each
argument. The conclusion was simply that it was not the
right time to initiate such changes and further study would
be needed. Not surprisingly, at least some bishops present
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 75

were concerned that a move in favour of the vernacular or

the giving of the chalice could easily appear as a concession
to the Protestant side. At the end of the day, what did win out
was a rigid liturgical uniformity imposed on the whole
Catholic Church - a uniformity that would last 400 years
until the advent of the Second Vatican Council.
In 1562, Council bishops approved a disciplinary decree
ordering that the most serious liturgical abuses be eliminat-
ed: Mass should be celebrated only in consecrated places;
magical treatment of the Eucharist was to cease, along with
the use of inappropriate liturgical music; bishops were to
monitor more closely their clergy regarding Mass stipends;
and superstitious practices around the number of Masses
should also be abolished (Jungmann: 1986, pp. 133-5). The
reform of the Missal and the Breviary were not discussed
until the twenty-fifth session and ultimately relegated to the
Pope himself (Pius IV at the time), who immediately formed
a liturgical commission to work on the texts. The fruit of
their labours would serve as two of the three most important
instruments in post-Conciliar liturgical centralization.
The 1568 Breviary promulgated by Pope Pius V was the
first important instrument for the renovation of Tridentine
Catholic worship. The Roman Missal followed two years later
in 1570 and was promulgated by the same pontiff. A third
important instrument came some eighteen years later: the
institution of the Sacred Congregation of Rites in 1588. This
third 'instrument' was not a text but a group of individuals -
a Roman Curial staff charged with overseeing the implemen-
tation and continuation of the Tridentine reforms, and also a
sort of clearing-house for all matters liturgical. Prior to that
Council, liturgical decisions were left largely to local churches
and regions, leaving a tremendous variety both in the use of
different missals, lectionaries, pontificals and breviaries, and
consequently in the way those liturgies were celebrated.
Trent changed all that. That Sacred Congregation of Rites
76 Worship

was the precursor of what is now called the Congregation for

Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments.
The Tridentine Breviary replaced the popular and simpli-
fied text of Cardinal Francisco Quinonez, which when
approved by Pope Paul III and published in 1535, sustained
no fewer than eleven reprints in its first year and over 100 in
the thirty-two years of its existence. The 1568 Breviary was
a return to the traditional Roman Office but with some
abbreviations and simplifications. With the revision of both
the Breviary and Missal, the commission's goal was to return
to the ancient liturgy of the City of Rome rather than to cre-
ate new liturgical texts. At the heart of this reform was the
liturgical calendar, which had become over-burdened with
saints' days - even on Sundays. Thus, a reform of the litur-
gical calendar would enable the Church's liturgical year to
regain its original lustre and purpose, where Sundays were
retained as they were intended to be celebrated, and liturgi-
cal seasons like Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter could
be properly honoured. The result was that, with the excep-
tion of octaves, 157 days were recovered on the liturgical cal-
endar. Preference was given to communal over private
Masses - especially in religious communities - with the full
range of liturgical ministries. Most surprisingly, perhaps, was
the statement that the solemn celebration of Mass was
preferable to the simplified 'Low Mass'.
The twenty-second session (1562) provides interesting
information regarding the Eucharist. Desire was expressed
that members of the assembly should communicate at every
Mass, if possible, and liturgical preaching in the vernacular
should take place at least on Sundays and feast days. That
same session affirmed the propitiatory nature of the Mass as
sacrifice and the Roman Canon was proclaimed free of error.
Moreover, clergy were reminded that water should be added
to the chalice of wine for the offering, countering the objec-
tion of the reformers.
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 77

The liturgical calendar was revised in 1582 under the lead-

ership of Pope Gregory XII; the revised Roman Martyrology
followed two years later with further revisions in 1586 and
1589. Under the leadership of the Sacred Congregation of
Rites, new liturgical books were produced. The Roman
Pontifical (1596) was a book for bishops containing texts
proper to pontifical liturgies; the Caeremoniale Episcoporum
(1600) contained rubrics for liturgies at which bishops were
present, and the Roman Ritual (1614) was a type of pastoral
manual containing assorted blessings and texts for the
administration of certain sacraments (McManus: 1954, p. 27).
The Roman liturgy established at Trent perdured even as
the externals around that liturgy changed in architecture,
music, and in the exercises of religious piety. Thus, we cannot
speak of a 'Baroque' liturgy in the way we speak of 'medieval'
or 'patristic' liturgy, despite the fact that we can identify
Baroque elements within the Roman Rite. Those changes
were largely cosmetic, not organic - variations on the
Tridentine 'theme'. Architecturally, however, changes were
quite radical as compared with what preceded the Baroque in
both the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. With the found-
ing of new religious orders in the sixteenth century such as
the Jesuits and the Theatines, a new liturgical architecture
was needed since those orders were not bound to pray the
Divine Office in common. This was a novelty for the Catholic
Church, long accustomed to associating religious life with the
common recitation of the Divine Office. Those new orders
were directed toward active apostolic service, and they re-
cognized that spending a significant amount of time each day
in their choir stalls would mean less time for the service of
the neediest in the streets and squares of the city. Thus, not
without some difficulty, they were exempt from common
recitation of the Office.
In the High Middle Ages, the church building had been
divided into distinct areas with the altar as focal point. As we
78 Worship

have already seen, a wooden partition (a roodscreen - 'rood'

meaning cross) divided the laity in the nave from the chancel
reserved for monks and clergy. Baroque architecture was
quite different. The roodscreen was removed, allowing for
clear sight lines to view the altar, creating one single, unified
liturgical space. The Baroque emphasized seeing and hearing
Mass. This new, flamboyant architectural style was, indeed,
a feast for the eyes with its theatrical movement, colour and
detail. This is well demonstrated by the twisted columns of
Gianlorenzo Bernini's (+1680) baldachino in Saint Peter's
Basilica, Vatican City. In Baroque churches the chancel was
also eliminated since choir stalls no longer served a function.
Moreover, with a newfound emphasis on preaching and cat-
echesis - especially in light of the Reformation - the ambo or
pulpit became more prominent and was placed in the centre
of the church for better audibility. This emphasis on the
spoken word led to accusations against the Jesuits of being
'Protestants in disguise'. Undaunted, they continued their
'ministries of the Word' insisting that Jesuits in training reg-
ularly practise their communication skills at preaching and
teaching in the presence of the more experienced. Those
experiments in preaching were to receive regular evaluations
and critique by the more experienced. Built between 1568
and 1575, the mother church of the Jesuit order, II Gesu in
Rome's historic centre, clearly exemplifies these new apos-
tolic concerns and soon became the prototype for Baroque
architecture (White: 1995, pp. 6-8). As Jesuit missionaries
were sent around the world, it was not uncommon that they
would customarily write back to superiors in Rome asking
permission to build churches in their territories. When the
Roman response was affirmative, it was inevitably accompa-
nied with a copy of the Gesu's architectural plans to be imitated.
The missionaries followed the blueprints they had received
and Baroque architectural style was propagated throughout
the world.
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 79

In his tenure as Archbishop of Milan, Charles Borromeo

made his own particular contribution to liturgical architec-
ture. In 1576, an archdiocesan synod in Milan called for the
installation of communion rails to assist the faithful in kneel-
ing to receive the sacrament, thereby creating a barrier
between the nave and the altar. This custom gradually
spread throughout the world. In the following year,
Borromeo produced an archdiocesan statement: Instruc-
tions on the Architecture and Furnishing of Churches.' The
attention to detail within the document is extraordinary and
reveals a certain scrupulosity. Consider, for example, his re-
commendation that a wooden partition be constructed right
down the middle aisle of the church to separate male from
female worshippers lest there be any distractions or tempta-
tions during the sacred mysteries. Happily, that suggestion
was never implemented. In calling for the construction of
wooden confessionals, however, he further decreed that sep-
arate confessionals be built for men and women lest they mix
in the Sacrament of Penance.
An unfortunate recommendation, although predictable
given the Reformation climate and debates over the real
presence of Christ in the Eucharist, Borromeo insisted that
tabernacles containing the reserved sacrament be placed on
the main altar where Mass was celebrated. This was a radi-
cal departure from the medieval custom of reserving the
Eucharist in side cupboards built into the wall, on freestand-
ing pedestals or above the altar in a receptacle often resem-
bling the form of a dove (White: 1995, pp. 8-9). Now, the tab-
ernacle was front and centre and would remain so until
Vatican II, leading to a misguided interpretation of the tab-
ernacle as being essential to the celebration of Mass.
Tabernacles were built ever larger to demonstrate Catholic
belief in the Eucharist, thus becoming more focal and impor-
tant than the altar itself. In fact, the altar became a mere
throne for the tabernacle (and monstrance during
80 Worship

Eucharistic adoration); the Mass itself was soon subordinat-

ed to the cult of the Eucharist.
Forty years after Vatican II, one can still find vestiges of
this belief in certain quarters. I know, for example, of one
church in Rome where the sacristan continually moves the
reserved sacrament from altar to altar, depending on which
chapel or altar is being used for the Eucharistic celebration
on that given day. While we can be fairly certain that this was
not what Jesus had in mind, we can also affirm that the
Fathers of Trent never advocated such a practice. Indeed, a
tabernacle's stability and permanence is continually upheld
in Church tradition. In the early medieval period, taber-
nacles were kept for the bringing of communion to the sick
and dying; gradually, its purpose was extended to Eucharistic
adoration and devotional prayer. But the tabernacle's func-
tion as an essential ingredient within the celebration of the
Eucharist is without precedence.

The Seventeenth through the Nineteenth Centuries

As the seventeenth century dawned, colourful processions
and pilgrimages, orchestral Masses composed by Bach and
Beethoven together with dramatic representations and flam-
boyant pageantry were the order of the day. The Tridentine
liturgy remained as it had been celebrated in the sixteenth
century, and the laity remained passive spectators, but those
Masses were now embellished with polyphony and symphon-
ic music, giving new meaning to the expression 'hear Mass'.
For that was exactly what many faithful Catholics did at
solemn Masses on Sundays and feast days. They made their
devotions and said their prayers as they heard the choir sing
on their behalf or as the orchestra played. The late Clifford
Howell put it succinctly: Tor music had become the mistress,
rather than the handmaid, of liturgy; it submerged the whole
Mass in a beautiful sea of sound, in which the liturgy was car-
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 81

ried on unobtrusively in the depths, without any significance,

coming to the surface of attention only when the music
paused briefly at the Elevation' (Jones: 1992, p. 289).
At low Masses, however, there was some possibility for
congregational singing, especially in Germany. The Cantual
of Mainz (1605) was a helpful tool in this regard, offering a
selection of German hymns to be sung by the congregation in
place of the Gloria and Sanctus. This tradition of vernacular
singing at low Masses had already existed in Bavaria before
the Reformation. Aside from an occasional hymn, however,
lay participation in the liturgy remained very limited. On
some occasions, members of the congregation did make their
own communion, but before or after Mass; only the priest
received communion during the Mass. Eucharistic adoration
continued to grow; not surprisingly, the Feast of Corpus
Christi became the most popular feast of the church year
because of its emphasis on the real presence.
One of the major liturgical issues in the seventeenth cen-
tury - and not a very happy one - involved the Chinese Rites
Controversy. Here one can clearly observe two differing
worldviews: the Catholic culture of Europe and the non-
Christian cultures of Asia. European missionaries sent to
Asia exhibited a plurality of styles and evangelical strategies;
some were more open and imaginative than others. Jesuits
like Matteo Ricci, who arrived in Peking in 1601, took on the
dress and customs of the Mandarin Chinese, gaining their
acceptance and respect. Ricci and his colleagues argued that
newly-baptized Christians should be allowed to continue the
ancient practice of venerating the memory of their deceased
parents and relatives, along with other rituals associated
with the Confucian tradition.
These symbolic practices were admitted because there was
no divinity worshipped within those acts that were largely
cultural, anyway. Above all, the Confucian cult was linked to
civil government and life, and to scholarship. It included bod-
82 Worship

ily gestures such as the kowtow and the offering of incense

and money, food and wine at home shrines. All went reason-
ably well for some years until Dominican and Franciscan
missionaries arrived in the 1630s. Once their own missionary
centres were established, they sharply rebuked the Jesuits
for an improper blending of religious traditions and appealed
to the Holy Office in Rome. In 1645, and after significant
debate, Pope Innocent X issued a decree which forbade
Chinese Catholics to continue the practice of the veneration
of ancestors and the Cult of Confucius. The controversy
raged on for over a century until in 1742 Pope Benedict XIV
decreed that all Christian missionaries were obliged to take
an oath against the Chinese rites and those non-Christian
rites were to be definitively abolished. Two hundred years
later, in 1939, the oath was rescinded but it was too late
(Minamiki: 1985). Christianity had long since proven itself to
be a foreign enterprise, incapable of adapting itself to Chinese
life and culture. And the rest is history.
Another seventeenth-century development, albeit less dra-
matic, occurred within Europe and involved the so-called
'neo-Gallican' rites. Despite the Tridentine emphasis on rigid
uniformity which remained in effect, a number of French
dioceses returned to the pre-Tridentine Gallican rites and
began to develop their own liturgical books beginning in
1667 with the Ritual ofAlet. These texts contained rubrics in
the vernacular and exhibited notable variety from one dio-
cese to another. The influence of French Jansenism can be
seen in these developments. Founded by Cornelius Jansen
(+1638), Bishop of Ypres, Jansenists encouraged a more
informed liturgical participation with strict penances, and
serious preparation for the reception of communion.
Jansenism was also keen to uphold the autonomy of the local
church; the localization of liturgical books in this period
attests to such fierce independence from Rome. Indeed, by
the eighteenth century, 90 out of the 139 dioceses in France
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 83

had their own distinct liturgies. Some German bishops fol-

lowed the example of their French colleagues, at least as far
as the reform of the Breviary was concerned. Outside France,
however, and with a few German exceptions, Tridentine
liturgical centralization remained normative for the Catholic
Church in the West.
An even more interesting liturgical example within
Jansenism came not from France but from Tuscany toward
the end of the eighteenth century. In 1786, Scipione Ricci
(+1810), Bishop of Pistoia-Prato, convoked a synod where he
called for a restoration of the pure liturgy of the early
Church. As was the case in the Patristic era, the Synod re-
cognized the leadership of diocesan bishops in the gover-
nance of their own dioceses always in consultation with and
with the approval of the diocesan clergy council. This same
episcopal independence from Rome had already been
affirmed within French Jansenism in the articles of 1682.
The Synod of Pistoia promoted active participation of the
laity in the liturgical action and criticized devotion to the
Sacred Heart along with processions with saints' relics and
other popular devotions. Such pious exercises only detracted
from the centrality of Christ in the liturgical celebration.
Vernacular worship was to be introduced; Masses were to be
combined and unnecessary Masses eliminated so that the
communal dimension of the Eucharist could be enhanced.
Masses celebrated simultaneously at side altars were to be
abolished. The centrality of Sunday was to be restored and
parishes were to have a principal Eucharist with the pastor
as president. The one presiding was to pray the Eucharistic
Prayer and other presidential prayers in a loud, clear voice.
Communion distributed to the assembly was to be conse-
crated at that particular Eucharist and not taken from the
tabernacle as if it were a dispensary of 'leftovers' from earl-
ier Eucharists. The normative time for celebrating the
Sacraments of Christian Initiation (Baptism, Confirmation,
84 Worship

Eucharist) was during the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday

night. The Jansenist insistence on serious sacramental
preparation reveals itself here as the synod insisted on bap-
tismal preparation for parents and godparents along with the
preparation of couples preparing for holy matrimony.
Interestingly, as we compare the liturgical reforms of
Vatican II and those proposed in the Synod of Pistoia, there
does not appear to be a significant difference. Indeed, a simi-
lar agenda can be detected in both: full, conscious and active
liturgical participation. As we shall soon see, however, unlike
the reforms proposed at Pistoia, the groundwork for Vatican
II was laid in years of preparation. In particular, the collabo-
rative efforts of the biblical, ecumenical, liturgical and patris-
tic movements of the late nineteenth and, especially, the
twentieth century led the way for the officially sanctioned
reforms that would come years later. Foundations for the
Pistoian Synod offer quite a different picture. There was,
essentially, no preparation; no movements preceded it.
Neither the clergy nor church members had been catechized
or instructed as to why such liturgical changes were impor-
tant for the life of the Tuscan church. The Synod was largely
the invention of Bishop Ricci and Leopold II, the Grand Duke
of Tuscany. The results were devastating. In 1794, eight years
after the Synod concluded, Pope Pius VI condemned eighty-
five propositions: the first fifteen were called heretical; the
rest were termed 'misguided, false, scandalous, and so forth'.
Six years later in 1790, Ricci was deposed as bishop having
been publicly humiliated before his clergy and people.
The Church in Germany held its own congress in the same
year as Pistoia, 1786. Unlike Pistoia, however, that Congress
of Ems succeeded in producing a liturgical reform that
enjoyed better longevity. This was so despite the fact that the
convocation of bishops addressed the delicate question of
papal primacy and German independence from Rome; the
issue had been a major concern of some of the more promi-
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 85

nent bishops attending the meeting. The Diocese of Constance

became the centre of the German reforms that emphasized
liturgical participation, congregational singing, and liturgical
preaching. Under the leadership of the Diocese's Vicar
General, Ignaz Heinrich von Wessenberg, a decree was
issued in 1803 requiring all Sunday and feast day Masses to
be celebrated before noon and that a sermon be preached. Six
years later in 1809, a further decree stated that every parish
should have one principal Mass on Sunday morning both
with the singing of vernacular hymns and preaching during
the Mass; it had become customary to preach before Mass as
a sort of prelude to the liturgical act. Further attempts at
increased liturgical participation continued for a number of
years but Rome was less than pleased and by 1855 these tra-
ditions had been discontinued.
The liturgical situation at the time was more hopeful out-
side of Roman Catholicism. In the eighteenth century, John
Wesley inaugurated the Methodist revival within the Church
of England with a focus on more personalized vernacular
preaching and the centrality of the Baptism and Eucharist.
His brother Charles offered his own contribution in the rich
composition of English hymns that were at once poetic and
theologically profound. The first Anglican hymnal, Collection
of Psalms and Hymns, was published in 1737. Those Wesley
hymns continue to be sung today throughout Christendom,
including Roman Catholic churches. Early Methodists devel-
oped what was called 'The Preaching Service' which includ-
ed a series of Bidding Prayers following the sermon, along
with extemporaneous prayer and hymn singing. John Wesley
produced his own simplified version of the BCP in 1784, just
two years before the Synod of Pistoia and the Congress of
Ems (Senn: 1997, pp. 548-60).
Aside from Methodism, two important movements
emerged within England that had a serious role to play with-
in Anglican liturgical renewal: The Anglo-Catholic Oxford
86 Worship

Movement founded in 1833, and the Camden Society (later

Ecclesiological Society) founded at Cambridge in 1839. The
Oxford Movement was founded on a strong sacramentality
returning to the Church's apostolic foundations. It promoted
the restoration of liturgical/sacramental celebrations and, in
particular, more frequent celebrations of the Eucharist. The
Camden Society contributed to church revival through its
regular publication The Ecclesiologist. Moreover, it advocat-
ed dignified worship like its Oxford counterpart, recovering
proper ceremonial along with an increased number of
Eucharistic celebrations. Another movement within the
Church of England, 'the Parish Communion', provided an
important social dimension to liturgical renewal by fostering
a more intimate link between liturgy and justice (Fenwick
and Spinks: 1995, pp. 38-9).
As the renewal of the Church of England was underway,
Roman Catholic Germany was experiencing its own theo-
logical renewal, thanks to the work of several professors
associated with the university at Tubingen. Their research
laid a firm theological foundation for the liturgical movement
that soon followed. Influenced by the German Enlightenment,
those scholars recovered a fundamental doctrine of the
Church as the Mystical Body of Christ that would provide the
essential foundations for what became the liturgical move-
ment. The theologian Johann Michael Sailer (+1832)
emphasized Christian worship's anchor both as the founda-
tion and the heart of the Church's life that forms the faithful
into an organic society.
Building on Sailer's research and that of Jewish-Lutheran
theologian Johann August Willhelm Neander (+1850),
Johann Adam Mohler (+1838) brought this theology to full
stature. He argued that worship had the responsibility to
assimilate in an interior manner the doctrine or theology
that the Church had exemplified or witnessed externally.
Mohler's thought was developed primarily in two major
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 87

works: Die Einheit in der Kirche (Tubingen: 1825) and

Symbolik (Mainz: 1832). Unlike Sailer's emphasis on the
Church as a society, Mohler chose the image of a community.
This vision of the baptized was a far cry from an institution-
al image of the Church where the laity were relegated to
second-class citizenship. The divine life was communicated
by the apostles not to individuals, but to sisters and brothers
who were incorporated into that same body of Christ. In
Mohler's image of the Church, it was important that the
community speak to God in the language that each one had
been given - the vernacular - just as it used that same lan-
guage in normal interpersonal relations. In so doing, God
would be honoured by being addressed in one's mother
tongue, which was a divine gift to the community in the first
place. Other nineteenth-century theologians joined Mohler
in propagating a similar ecclesiological approach. Their
research laid the foundations for the First Vatican Council's
Dogmatic Constitution on the Church of Christ in which the
proposed draft began: 'The Church is the Mystical Body of
Christ.' Had that council not been interrupted, it is quite
plausible that this doctrine would have held sway signifi-
cantly earlier than when it officially came on the scene with
the papal encyclical Mystici Corporis Christi, issued by Pius
XII in 1943 (Cattaneo: 1992, pp. 458-9).
With what appeared to be radical theological developments
taking place in Germany under the leadership of Sailer,
Mohler, and their colleagues at Tubingen, a more traditional
Roman reform was launched in neighbouring France. In
part, this came about as a response to the rampant neo-
Gallicanism present throughout that country in the post-
Revolution years. The leader of this Catholic reform was Prosper
Gueranger (+1875), Abbot of the re-founded Benedictine
monastery of Solesmes (1833) that had been suppressed in
1792 during the French Revolution. Gueranger used his
monastery as a liturgical centre both to model the proper
88 Worship

celebration of the Eucharist and the Liturgy of the Hours, and

to lead the French Church, bent on nationalism, back to its
true Roman foundations. A further instrument in this process
of Romanization was the launching of a two-part publication
series: L'annee liturgique, which was more pastoral in scope,
and the more scientific Institutions liturgiques. Until recent-
ly, Gueranger had been called the 'Father' of the modern litur-
gical movement since he made it his aim to restore the true
liturgical spirit throughout the country so that clergy and
people alike might better live the liturgy.
More recently, however, scholars have demonstrated that
Gueranger followed a path different from what would be a
hallmark of the liturgical movement: full, conscious and
active participation with a concomitant concern for justice.
In fact, it was Gueranger's opinion that since the liturgical
act and its corresponding liturgical books were fundament-
ally the property of the clergy, then the laity should not com-
plain about retrieving that which did not belong to them in
the first place. This was quite a departure from the Patristic
model of liturgy - just the opposite of what pioneers of the
liturgical movement argued. Gueranger's fundamental error
was that he limited his research to medieval liturgical foun-
dations - a period in which worship was quite clericalized
and removed from the people. Had he continued his explora-
tion further, back to the Patristic era, the Abbot would have
found a very different scenario indeed. Having said that, he
must be credited for his desire to restore liturgy's beauty and
solemnity accomplished both in the way worship was cele-
brated at the monastery and also in his publications. A
tremendous contribution of Solesmes was the leadership
offered in the recovery of chant research begun by its monks
in the 1870s. Together they rediscovered the purity of
Gregorian chant through a careful study of medieval manu-
scripts and removed accretions found in the editions, such
as the German Ratisbon chant. Today, Solesmes continues
 Worship in Crisis and Challenge 89

to be the world centre for the serious study and execution of

Gregorian chant.
Gueranger's own influence went well beyond liturgy and
beyond the confines of France. The brothers Maurus and
Placidus Wolter were quite influenced by Gueranger's monas-
tic reforms as they founded the German Benedictine
monastery of Beuron in 1863, and were strict in adhering to
a Solesmes-style of monasticism, at least in the early years.
That monastery became as much a centre for German litur-
gical life according to the Roman Rite as Solesmes was for
France, and liturgical publications soon followed. The
Beuronese monks eventually departed from Gueranger's con-
servatism. In 1884, Dom Anselm Schott published the first
German-Latin missal, and an office book for Vespers pub-
lished in German followed in 1893. Beuron's most famous
contribution, however, was its school of Romanesque liturgi-
cal art founded by Dom Desiderius Lenz, with an emphasis on
the harmonious unity between worship and art in an inte-
grated liturgical space. This spirit continued in the re-found-
ing of Maria Laach in the Rhineland, and ultimately in the
Belgian monasteries of Mont Cesar and Maredsous.
Elsewhere in Europe, liturgical scholarship began to flour-
ish with the founding of the journal Ephemerides liturgicae
in 1887, the Surtees Society in 1884, the Henry Bradshaw
Society in 1891, and the Alcuin Club in 1899. The latter three
were societies dedicated to the collection of liturgical texts.
These groups flourished in the twentieth century and
worked in concert with other aspects of the classical liturgi-
cal movement. It is to that movement that we now turn.
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 4
Worship in Transition

The Liturgical Movement of the Twentieth Century

Social movements naturally begin at the local level and

gradually move upwards until their message eventually
reaches the authorities and systemic change occurs. This is
true whether we are speaking of the US Civil Rights
Movement of the 1960s, the Women's Movement, or any
other movement within human society which lobbies for
change. It is precisely within this context that we must view
the Liturgical Movement for, indeed, those same dynamics
were at work. In other words, it is not as though bishops and
other members of the Church hierarchy had requested such
an initiative or encouraged the movement's development.
On the contrary, many within the establishment viewed
liturgical pioneers as rather suspicious characters, tamper-
ing with the very heart of the Church's life and doctrine.
Those suspicions were not limited to bishops, of course, but
were shared by many ordinary Catholics as well. Some even
accused the liturgical pioneers of failing to believe in the real
presence of Christ in the Eucharist and in the Church's
hierarchical structure since they advocated a liturgical par-
ticipation that suggested that all members of the Church
were the body of Christ - even lay members. The Liturgical
Movement, then, did not begin in Vatican offices nor in
diocesan chanceries, but in monasteries and parishes and in
conference centres and social clubs.
The Liturgical Movement began in Belgium in 1909 at the
Congres national des oeuvres catholiques held at Malines. A
Benedictine monk of the Abbey of Mont Cesar, Lambert
Beauduin, was invited to address the conference on the topic
92 Worship

of La vraiepriere de I'eglise 'The True Prayer of the Church'.

During his lecture he advocated full and active participation
of the laity, not only in the area of liturgy but also in all
aspects of the Church's life and ministry. At that meeting,
Beauduin encountered Godfried Kurth, a layman and histor-
ian who was very much taken with the possibility of more
participative worship. Together, they began to strategize
about how to make their common dream a reality for the
Church in Belgium. Beauduin was more successful in his
liturgical promoting than another Benedictine, Gerard van
Caloen, a monk of Maredsous, who had proposed that the
faithful receive communion during the Mass at which they
assisted rather than before or after. Van Caloen's remarks
were made at a Eucharistic Congress held at Liege in 1883,
and were considered so radical that he was removed as rec-
tor of the Abbey school. The climate had improved signifi-
cantly by the time Beauduin arrived on the scene.
Beauduin based his remarks on the motuproprio of Pius X
Tra le sollecitudini which had been promulgated only six
years earlier, on 22 November 1903. Pius X had been a pro-
fessor of sacred music and choir director earlier in his life, so
it is hardly a surprise that his first official text was to be on
the topic of liturgical music, for example, Gregorian chant
according to the Solesmes method. That document went
beyond Gregorian chant, however. Significantly, the Pope
spoke of worship as the Church's 'primary and indispensable
source', and called for greater participation in the liturgy.
Despite the Pope's desires to reawaken a love of Gregorian
chant, which he called 'the supreme model of sacred music',
the document's greatest influence was in its encouragement
of increased liturgical participation by all members of the
Church. In calling the motuproprio the 'magna carta' of the
liturgical movement, Beauduin relied on that document to
provide the needed rationale for his liturgical efforts, and
subsequent liturgical pioneers would do the same.
 Worship in Transition 93

Pius X further assisted efforts at liturgical renewal with

the publication of Sacra Tridentina synodus in 1905, which
repeated the call of Trent to regular and frequent sacramen-
tal communion by members of the Church. That papal text
led many Catholics back to the practice of weekly and even
daily communion, and recovered an awareness of the recep-
tion of Holy Communion as integral to full and active partic-
ipation in the Eucharistic celebration. In 1910, the same
pope promulgated Quam singulari, which lowered the age
for First Communion to age seven - when the child had
reached the 'age of reason'. Divino afflatu was published the
following year and called for the reordering of the psalter in
the Breviary, and it was reformed again in 1914.
As the liturgical movement gained strength in Belgium, it
soon caught on in Germany, with a more scientific emphasis
thanks to the scholarly contribution of the monks of Maria
Laach in the Rhineland. The German movement emerged
through contact in 1913 between Benedictine Ildefons
Herwegen (+1946) and several university students who
expressed interest in a deeper living out of the liturgy in daily
life. Herwegen invited the students to come to the monastery
during Holy Week, 1914, where they would be able to join the
monastic community both in its daily life and worship. There
they celebrated the 'dialogue Mass' for the first time. During
that visit, Herwegen and his guests discussed possibilities for
further promotion of liturgical renewal within the German
Church. Herwegen later became Abbot of Maria Laach, offering
him a significant platform to further inculcate the spirit of litur-
gical renewal within that monastery. He opposed Gueranger's
liturgical views, demonstrating that far from being the golden
age of liturgical life, the medieval period had corrupted earlier lit-
urgical structures. To support his position, Herwegen alluded to
the problematic allegorical and dramatic reinterpretations of
liturgical tradition so typical of the Middle Ages. Subsequent lit-
urgical scholars gave further shape to Herwegen's theory.
94 Worship

Young monks like Odo Casel (+1948), who was an early

disciple of Herwegen from university days when Herwegen
served as chaplain, flourished in the discipline of liturgical
scholarship and became a prolific writer on liturgical theory.
In the thirty-year period from 1918 until his untimely death
in 1948 (just having finished singing the Exultet at the Easter
vigil), Casel wrote hundreds of articles and books with influ-
ence far beyond the confines of Germany. Most famous was
his text Das cristliche Kultmysterium where he argued that
the Christian sacraments had their foundations in the Greek
mystery cults. Despite the limits of CasePs research, his
interpretation opened up the richness of the liturgical life as
it symbolically expresses the Church's self-identity as the
mystical body of Christ. His theory caused quite a stir and
was debated extensively in the German Catholic press.
With Herwegen's collaboration, Casel joined fellow monk
Cunibert Mohlberg, along with Romano Guardini (+1968),
Franz Dolger, and Anton Baumstark in launching what
became the German liturgical movement. They organized a
three-part series of publications in 1918: Ecclesia Orans,
Liturgiegeschictliche Quellen, and Liturgiegeschichtliche
Forschungen. The periodical Jarbuch fur Liturgiewissen-
schaft followed three years later. In 1923, Romano Guardini
published his own classic Vom Geist der Liturgie, which
became a fundamental text in liturgical spirituality. Recently,
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Congregation for
the Doctrine of the Faith, chose to employ the same title in
his own book, The Spirit of the Liturgy, citing Guardini's text
and its importance. It must be said, however, that there are
some significant differences between Guardini's liturgical
vision and that of Cardinal Ratzinger.
The first missa recitata was celebrated (facing the people)
in the crypt of the monastic church at Maria Laach on 6
August 1921. Abbot Herwegen gave permission for the Mass
to be celebrated, but delegated the presidency of that
 Worship in Transition 95

Eucharist to the Prior, Albert Hammenstede. Moreover, the

Abbot set the time of celebration for 6.00 a.m., and chose not
to attend himself. The Mass included the praying of the ordi-
nary parts of the Mass in common and the assembly's par-
ticipation in the offertory procession, each one placing his or
her host on the paten as they entered the crypt for Mass and
then the presentation of those gifts at the altar. While the
Mass was a radical departure from what preceded it, the
liturgical language continued to be Latin, despite rumours to
the contrary. Burkhard Neunheuser OSB was present at that
historic liturgy as a young monk and vividly recalled the
event when I visited the monastery several years ago. Word
quickly spread among neighbouring clergy in the Diocese of
Trier that the monks had 'become Protestant', he recalled,
and the monastic liturgical experimentation was reported to
the Bishop. When the Bishop made his own visitation to
observe the reported liturgical irregularities, he was appar-
ently moved to tears. The following year, at the Diocesan
Eucharistic Congress, the Bishop himself celebrated Mass at
a portable altar facing the people, much to the shock of the
monastery's opponents.
Under Guardini's leadership, a close relationship grew
between German theologians and church architects, which bore
fruit in a 1938 document on liturgical architecture issued by the
German bishops. That dialogue was eloquently expressed in the
famous chapel at Burg Rothenfels, designed by Rudolf Schwartz
in collaboration with Romano Guardini, and also in Schwarz's
Church of Corpus Christi in Aachen. Dominikus Bohm was
another prominent German architect who led the movement for
new liturgical design. Unlike the USA and other countries
where church artists and architects were often held in suspicion
by church authorities, the German document clearly reflects a
mutual trust and was ahead of its time in suggesting the use of
poured concrete and new, innovative designs rather than a con-
tinued reliance on neo-gothic models.
96 Worship

Architectural advances were also a reality in France and

Switzerland. Dedicated in 1923, the Church of Notre Dame
du Raincy near Paris gave birth to the movement in modern
liturgical architecture, thanks to the design by the secular
architect Auguste Ferret, who was a master in reinforced
concrete construction. Influenced by Ferret's example, the
Swiss churches of Saint Anthony's in Basel, designed by Karl
Moser, and Saint Charles, Luzerne, designed by Fritz
Metzger, soon came to be known as 'liturgical churches' -
well-suited for celebrations of the dialogue Mass, with the
priest facing the people, and for increased liturgical partici-
pation across the board (White: 1995, pp. 74-5).
Germany's liturgical reformers went beyond the arts and
liturgical science. In the 1940s Johannes Pinsk (+1957),
who served as Chaplain at the University of Berlin, became
a strong advocate of social activism which found its centre in
the liturgical act, as he forcefully spoke out against the
Third Reich both in his preaching and in his pastoral jour-
nal Liturgisches Leben. He was not alone. Liturgical pioneer
Hans Anscar Reinhold was so critical of Nazism that he was
forced to flee his native Germany and went to the USA.
Those prophetic voices did not go unnoticed and the
German liturgical movement was sharply rebuked for its
activism in some articles and even in a book by M. Kassiepe:
Irrwege und Umwege im Frommigkeitsleben. A Liturgical
Working Party was established to respond to the crisis
including such members as Romano Guardini. When the
issue reached the German hierarchy in 1942, the result was
the establishment of the German National Liturgical
Commission which, in addition to the members of the
Liturgical Working Party, also included monks of Maria
Laach and Beuron.
H. A. Reinhold settled in New York, carrying with him a
strong message of liturgy and social justice. Church authori-
ties, particularly the Chancellor of the Archdiocese of New
 Worship in Transition 97

York, James Mclntyre (later Cardinal Archbishop of Los

Angeles), refused to grant him priestly faculties to exercise
his ministry since his prophetic voice had branded him a
'trouble-maker'. It was Dorothy Day, foundress of the
Catholic Worker Movement, who came to his aid, granting
him safe passage across the river to Brooklyn - a different
and more kindly diocese - where Reinhold and his ministry
were welcomed. Reinhold's problems were far from over,
however. He later found his way to Sunnyside, Washington,
on the East coast of the United States where he had other
conflicts with diocesan leadership, and died in retirement
within the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Despite his
struggles, he remained a prophetic voice within the liturgical
movement and left an inestimable contribution to the renew-
al. His celebrated 'Timely Tracts' appeared in the pages of
Orate Fratres from 1938 until 1954 and drew strong reac-
tions from both sides.
Recent scholarship has uncovered what had been a largely
unknown dimension of the European liturgical movement,
especially in Germany and Belgium: the contribution of
women. One of the most interesting examples comes from
the Benedictine nuns at the Convent of Herstelle near Maria
Laach. Both Herwegen and Casel supported greater inclu-
sion of women in the movement's promotion. Herwegen even
encouraged one of his monks, Athanasius Wintersig (+1942),
to write a book on the topic of the important role of women
in the liturgical movement: Liturgie und Fraunseele. But it
was Benedictine women themselves who would carry the
torch, promoting the movement among women in Germany.
Casel served as chaplain to the convent and his liturgical
influence there is demonstrable. Aemiliana Lohr (+1972),
whom Casel described as his best student, wrote more than
300 articles, liturgical poems and books in her lifetime, but
she was virtually unheard of until the work of German litur-
gical scholar Teresa Berger, currently a professor at Duke
98 Worship

University in the United States. And there were other nuns

in that same monastery who engaged in their own liturgical
publishing. Agape Kiesgen (+1933) was another close collab-
orator of Odo Casel in various liturgical projects. Indeed,
most of the early work on the index for the series Jarbuch fur
Liturgiewissenschaft was done single-handedly by Kiesgen.
Moreover, with Abbot Herwegen's assistance, the nuns at
Herstelle organized liturgical retreats for women where the
liturgical spirit was infused and the movement promoted.
As women became partners in promoting liturgical renew-
al throughout Germany, a similar phenomenon was happen-
ing elsewhere in Europe and the United States. Like their
German counterparts, women in Belgium also played a sig-
nificant role, centred around the Abbey of Wepion that was
founded in the 1920s to introduce the 'modern woman' to the
liturgical renewal. The convent soon became a liturgical
'Mecca' not only for Belgian women, but for women from
Germany and France as well. Regular contributions by
women can be found in periodicals such as Bibel und Liturgie,
Liturgische Zeitschrift, Liturgisches Leben, and Orate Fratres.
In the United States, Justine Ward and Georgia Stevens,
RSCJ, founded the Pius X School of Liturgical Music in 1916,
while other women such as Ade Bethune, Dorothy Day,
Catherine De Hueck, Sara Benedicta O'Neil, Mary Perkins
Ryan, and Nina Polcyn Moore made very significant contri-
butions. In her book, Women's Ways of Worship: Gender
Analysis and Liturgical History, Berger argues that since
men were largely the historians of the liturgy and its renew-
al, the important contribution of women to this enterprise
was either ignored or simply overlooked. Happily, the situa-
tion is changing as younger scholars are more aware and
appreciative of this important tessera that was missing from
the mosaic.
In Austria, it was Augustinians rather than the
Benedictines who led the liturgical revival, centred at the
 Worship in Transition 99

Augustinian monastery of Klosterneuburg near Vienna. The

key figure in that movement was Augustinian Canon Pius
Parsch (+1945) who used his nearby parish, St Gertrude, as
a sort of laboratory for liturgical experimentation. Parsch
made it his aim to combine the academic with the pastoral in
a common goal of biblical and liturgical renewal. This he did
by way of two important publications: Das Jahr des Heiles
(which appeared in English as The Church's Year of Grace),
published in 1923 as a pastoral commentary on the liturgical
year; and Bibel und Liturgie, founded in 1926 to promote a
more integral relationship between the Bible and worship
and to foster greater awareness of the Scriptures among
Roman Catholics. Some years later and from a more scientif-
ic perspective, the Jesuit liturgical scholar Josef Andreas
Jungmann (+1975) made an extraordinary contribution
both in his teaching at Innsbruck and in his writings, espe-
cially in the monumental two-volume work Missarum
Sollemnia: The Mass of the Roman Rite. That work took some
years to complete, and was eventually published in 1948.
At about the same time, the recently deceased Professor
Balthasar Fischer, who played a leading role in the prepara-
tion of Vatican IFs 'Constitution on the Liturgy', held the
first Chair of Liturgy at the University of Trier's theological
faculty in the academic year 1946-7. Johannes Wagner
founded the renowned Liturgical Institute at Trier during
that same year, while the Herwegen Institute for the
Promotion of Liturgical Studies was inaugurated at Maria
Laach with publication of the celebrated Archiv fur
Liturgiewissenschaft. Several years later, in 1951, the Trier
Institute launched its own series, Liturgisches Jarbuch (H.
C. Schmidt Lauber: 1995, pp. 23-6).
In the Netherlands, the first liturgical congress took place
at Breda in 1911, which led to the founding of the Liturgical
Society in the Dioceses of Haarlem (1912) and Utrecht
(1914). Those groups were instrumental in founding the
100 Worship

national Dutch Liturgical Federation in 1915. England had

its own share of liturgical pioneers, both Anglican and
Roman Catholic. A. Gabriel Hebert, an Anglican and mem-
ber of the Society of the Sacred Mission, published an impor-
tant book in 1935: Liturgy and Society, on the relationship
between liturgy and daily life with special attention to what
we now call 'social justice'. In those pre-ecumenical years,
Hebert attributes his own liturgical consciousness to his
association with the Roman Catholic Benedictines of Maria
Laach in the Rhineland. Another significant contribution
came from the Anglican Benedictine of Nashdom Abbey,
Gregory Dix (+1951), in his seminal work The Shape of the
Liturgy (1945) in which he delineated the four-fold action
within the Eucharist: taking, blessing, breaking, and giving,
imitating Jesus' actions at the Last Supper. Dix's work
demonstrated a close relationship between Jewish and
Christian worship. While some of his conclusions have been
questioned in more recent scholarship, the text was founda-
tional for liturgical research in subsequent years and
remains a classic in liturgies even today despite the work's
limits. In 1995, the flagship ecumenical and international
liturgical academy Societas Liturgica celebrated the fiftieth
anniversary of Dix's publication, choosing as the theme of its
bi-annual meeting held in Dublin: The Future Shape of the
Liturgy'. In that week-long assembly, Dix's theory was revis-
ited and pushed forward in light of new sociological realties
such as Sunday worship in the absence of an ordained min-
ister, Christian feminism and inculturation.
Roman Catholics in the United Kingdom had their own
notable liturgical pioneers. Aside from historian Edmund
Bishop, there was Bernard McElligott, Benedictine monk of
Ampleforth Abbey, who founded the Society of Saint Gregory
in 1929, which promoted active liturgical participation
through summer institutes in Gregorian chant. Later, the
Society's work also included lectures and publications, in
 Worship in Transition 101

particular, the journal Music and Liturgy (later Liturgy, Life

and Worship). As would be the case elsewhere, Jesuits col-
laborated with the Benedictines in the enterprise of liturgi-
cal renewal. Both through his well-received liturgical weeks
and his numerous publications, British Jesuit Clifford
Howell had a serious impact on the movement as did anoth-
er Jesuit, C. C. Martindale (Cheslyn Jones: 1992, p. 291).
Some years later, diocesan priest and liturgist James D.
Crichton (+2001) was enormously successful in popularizing
liturgical history and theology for ordinary Catholics, both
through his lectures and many publications.
In France, Solesmes continued to promote Gregorian
chant and to uphold Latin as the liturgical language; but it
did little to foster the kind of increased liturgical participa-
tion witnessed elsewhere. The real force within the French
liturgical renewal came from the Centre de pastorale
liturgique, founded in Paris in 1943 by two Dominicans: A.
M. Roguet and Pie Duploye. Two years later, in 1945, the
centre began its famous periodical La Maison-Dieu, which
remains popular today almost fifty years after its inception.
The Institut Superieur de Liturgie was founded in 1956.
Pierre-Marie Gy, OP, was one of the cornerstones of those
institutions and has made an enormous liturgical contribu-
tion on the international level these past fifty years.
In general, Roman Catholic countries like Italy, Malta,
Portugal, and Spain, failed to register the same level of litur-
gical renewal. Several notable exceptions do exist, however.
In 1914, the northern Italian Benedictine monastery at
Finalpia, Savona, inaugurated the important review Rivista
liturgica that continues to be published today. Mention must
also be made of two Italian liturgical pioneers - both
Benedictines - Emanuele Caronti and Ildebrando Schuster.
Caronti's text on liturgical spirituality, La pietd liturgica,
was widely acclaimed as was his Messale festivo per i fedeli
which helped thousands of Italian Catholics to better appre-
102 Worship

date the Eucharistic liturgy and its richness through a bet-

ter understanding of liturgical texts. In 1960, just after Pope
John XXIII called for the convocation of the Second Vatican
Council, Benedictines took the lead again in founding the
Pontifical Liturgical Institute at Sant'Anselmo in Rome with
the blessing of the same Pope.
The Catalan Benedictine monastery of Montserrat near
Barcelona offers another notable exception. In the 1930s
under Franco's oppressive regime, monks were scattered to
different monasteries for their theological studies. A number
were sent to Maria Laach and were soon captivated by the
liturgical renewal and experimentation at work there. Not
surprisingly, when they returned home to Catalonia they
brought with them the liturgical spirit that they had imbibed
in the Rhineland, but adapting and applying it to their own
unique cultural circumstances. Aside from developing litur-
gical celebrations and a musical style that was reflective of
Catalan culture, they engaged in some significant transla-
tions of liturgical studies into the local language, and in order
to further promote the movement in the region they opened
a Pastoral Liturgical Center in Barcelona. Today, that centre
continues to exist and the liturgical life at Montserrat
remains enlivened both with the Catalan genius and the spirit
of liturgical renewal. Unlike some monasteries where mem-
bers of the assembly are left to listen to the sung chant as
passive spectators, visitors to Montserrat will be struck by
the full musical participation of the entire congregation and
a form of liturgical chant that has clearly been inculturated.
From Europe, the movement spread to the Americas: the
United States and Brazil. In 1925, the German-American
monk, Virgil Michel (+1938), founded the US movement at
his monastery of Saint John's Abbey, Collegeville, and the
Brazilian movement was born at Rio de Janeiro in 1933,
thanks to the initiative of Martinho Michler. Both in Brazil
and the United States, the movement enjoyed a strong pas-
 Worship in Transition 103

toral emphasis with particular attention to worship's social

dimension. In 1926, Virgil Michel founded both a publishing
house - The Liturgical Press - to translate and publish
important European books on liturgical renewal and make
them available to the general public in the English-speaking
world, and a monthly periodical, Orate Fratres (later Worship)
to serve as the primary instrument of communicating the
message of liturgical renewal. His early collaborators were
Jesuit scholar Gerald Ellard (+1963) of Saint Mary's, Kansas,
and German-born Monsignor Martin Hellriegel (+1981),
Pastor of Holy Cross Parish in St Louis.
U.S. liturgical education on the pastoral level grew by leaps
and bounds and nothing was more central to that phenomenon
than the Benedictine Liturgical Conference (later The Liturgical
Conference) and the annual liturgical weeks that it sponsored.
The first 'week' was held in Chicago in 1940 and drew over 1260
participants. The high point came years later, however, with
14,000 participants at the Philadelphia Week in 1963 and 20,000
in St Louis for the annual gathering in 1964. Liturgical educa-
tion also found its way into meetings of Catholic leagues, nurses'
associations, and other venues of adult education. Chicago
Seminary rector Reynold Hillenbrand began a summer school
in liturgical studies at Mundelein, Illinois, as early as 1941, man-
aging to attract some of the best-known names in the field as
faculty. Six years later, in the summer of 1947, Holy Cross priest
Michael Mathis (+1960) launched the first U.S. degree pro-
gramme in liturgy at the University of Notre Dame, providing
an impressive line-up of liturgical scholars from Europe and
North America. Notre Dame later established a graduate pro-
gramme in liturgies in 1965, and the Catholic University of
America followed in 1970. Whether in academic programmes or
parish renewal, the U.S. movement was marked by a significant
level of lay participation.
By the late 1940s, the labour and toil of liturgical pioneer-
ing on both sides of the Atlantic began to produce some tan-
104 Worship

gible results. Of course, the movement and its cause had

been helped greatly by two papal encyclicals: Mystici
Corporis Christi in 1943, which laid out the movement's theo-
logical foundations as it spoke of the corporate nature of the
Church as Christ's mystical body, and the 1947 encyclical
Mediator Dei which, despite some cautions about liturgical
experimentation and the renewal itself, officially recognized
the existence of the liturgical movement and was largely sup-
portive of its agenda. With the formation of national liturgi-
cal commissions in at least some European countries, bishops
were increasingly supportive as well, and they began asking
the Holy See for special dispensations on liturgical matters,
to further assist participative liturgy. Thus, in 1947 the
Belgian Episcopal Conference received permission to cel-
ebrate Evening Mass on Sundays and holy days while the
Diocese of Bayonne, France, was granted permission to use a
Latin-French edition of the Roman Ritual. The following
year, in 1948, Japanese and Polish bishops were granted
their request to celebrate evening Masses in their countries:
throughout all of Japan but only in certain parts of Poland,
according to which bishops made the request. In 1949,
approval was given to translate the Roman Missal (1570)
into Mandarin Chinese, while India received permission for a
shorter Eucharistic fast. A shorter form of the Breviary was
approved in 1950 for Holland, while the Bishops of Austria,
France, and Germany asked for the restoration of the Easter
Vigil from Holy Saturday morning to its proper place in Holy
Saturday evening. To their surprise, permission was granted
as an experiment and became normative for the whole
Church with the revised Holy Week Rites in 1955, promul-
gated for Palm Sunday 1956. In 1953 and 1957, the Holy See
granted permission to the universal Church for Evening
Mass and a shortened Eucharistic fast respectively.
We can observe several things from these examples. First,
it was the movement itself that both mobilized and educated
 Worship in Transition 105

the local churches to understand the importance of such

changes for the renewal of Christian worship. Second, this
grassroots movement actually effected change on the level of
Church leadership to such an extent that the bishops them-
selves requested exemptions and alterations to better assist
what Vatican II would call 'full and active liturgical partici-
pation'. Third, and most surprising of all, these concessions
were granted quite liberally by the Holy See (albeit on an
experimental basis, at least most of the time), and to individ-
ual dioceses which requested them. What we see in the grant-
ing of such requests is a remarkable confidence in diocesan
bishops and a trust in their own ability to discern and judge
what is best for their people. In other words, we see a
tremendous lesson here in collegiality and the relationship
between the local and universal Church through the lens of
worship.
Liturgical experiments and further concessions continued
through the 1950s, along with more international recogni-
tion and mobilization, as is evidenced by the international
liturgical congresses held at Maria Laach (1951), Odilienberg
(1952), Lugano (1954), and especially Assisi (1956), which
drew over fourteen hundred participants from five conti-
nents, including over eighty bishops and six cardinals. The
roster reads like a 'Who's Who' in liturgical renewal and the
leaders of the Assisi meeting became the key liturgical play-
ers at Vatican II. Indeed, they used their time together at
Assisi profitably to strategize an international liturgical
agenda and deepen their friendships.
The Assisi convocation represented a certain coming of age
for the liturgical movement. Despite the presence of the
Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Rites, Cardinal
Gaetano Cicognani, who presided over the meeting, there
were some heated debates in the course of the week over the
'pros' and 'cons' of greater liturgical participation for the
laity. And despite the rule that the promotion of the vernac-
106 Worship

ular was not to be mentioned at any point, every single major

speaker spoke in favour of it to the applause of the gathered
assembly and the displeasure of Cicognani. At the end of the
week, delegates travelled to Rome for a private audience with
Pope Pius XII. Rumours circulated that the Pope would
announce major vernacular concessions during the address,
Just the opposite was the case. The Pope reaffirmed Latin as
the language of the Church, and especially of the Liturgy.
Assisi participants were less than amused.
In this same period, other Christian churches were experi-
encing their own liturgical renewal. The movement within
the American Episcopal Church began in 1946 with the
Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission, founded by
John Patterson (+1988), and had a strong justice dimension
linked to concerns for greater congregational participation,
annual liturgical weeks, and common celebrations of the
Morning and Evening Offices. U.S. Lutherans launched their
own liturgical changes in the 1950s as they turned altars
around to face the congregation and advocated greater lay
involvement in the liturgical action. Similar developments
can be noted in the reformed churches. Even greater strides
in ecumenical liturgical renewal would be witnessed with the
advent of Vatican II.

The Liturgical Reforms of the Second Vatican Council

Pius XII died on 9 October 1958, and Angelo Roncalli was
elected Pope at age 78, choosing the name John XXIII.
Within just a few months, on 25 January, he announced the
Second Vatican Council and a preparatory commission on the
liturgy was established with Cardinal Cicognani as President
and Annibale Bugnini, CM (+1982), as Secretary. Not sur-
prisingly, it was the Assisi roster that assisted in selecting
members for the liturgical commission. Within the commis-
sion, thirteen sub-commissions were formed to treat differ-
 Worship in Transition 107

ent areas of specialization. The more problematic commis-

sions were those that dealt with liturgical language (Latin or
greater use of the vernacular), and liturgical music. The lan-
guage issue was obviously complex and it was predicted that
there would be a certain difference of opinion. The problem
with the music sub-commissions, however, was apparently
due more to the personalities involved and certain 'artistic
temperaments' rather than the issue itself.
Despite disagreements and diverging views, a schema was
produced which represented far more than any liturgical pion-
eer might have envisioned - a return to baptism as incorpo-
ration into the priesthood of Jesus Christ, which necessarily
demanded full and active participation within the liturgy.
The Roman Curia was less than pleased with the commis-
sion's final product as it was viewed as conceding too much
to the progressives, or to the laity, in general. Indeed, discus-
sion on the schema during the Council itself exhibited strong
emotions on both sides of the argument, especially over the
issue of the vernacular, which they discussed for ten periods
('congregations' as they were called). Ironically, even as the
bishops themselves discussed the 'pros' and 'cons' of shifting
from Latin to the vernacular within the liturgy, some of those
same individuals had quite a difficult time understanding the
discussions taking place (in Latin) during the Council itself
since their own grasp of the Church's language was so weak.
Cardinal Francis Spellman, then Archbishop of New York,
was one of those unfortunate ones who was not very sup-
portive of the vernacular even though his knowledge of Latin
was quite weak. As he made his own intervention he sug-
gested a compromise: vernacular for the clergy's private
recitation of the Breviary and the continuation of Latin for
the celebration of Mass. Spellman was, of course, arguing out
of his own personal experience since he had difficulty in
grasping the fullness of what he was reading as he prayed the
Divine Office each day. His problems with the language were
108 Worship

even greater when he attempted to speak it. Apparently, it

became so difficult during the Council that when Spellman
would rise to address his fellow bishops, a narrator was sent
to another microphone to translate the Cardinal from Latin
into Latin. The ice was broken when the eighty-four year old
Melkite Patriarch of Antioch, Maximos iy addressed the
assembled Council in French. Maximos argued that it made
little sense that he speak in Latin since it was not the lan-
guage of the East. Many bishops were relieved. A strong sup-
porter of vernacular worship, the Patriarch of Antioch
argued that a living church should not continue to employ a
dead language in its corporate prayer.
The greatest surprise came when the Pope himself
addressed the Council in the vernacular during a solemn Mass
in the Vatican Basilica on 4 November 1962, Feast of Charles
Borromeo. The celebrant was none other than Cardinal
Montini, successor to Borromeo as Archbishop of Milan who
would soon become Pope Paul VI. The occasion was also the
fourth anniversary of John's enthronement as Bishop of
Rome. Montini celebrated in the Ambrosian Rite of Milan
rather than the Roman Rite - one of the few times in which
the Ambrosian Rite has been celebrated at Saint Peter's.
When the time came for the Pope to speak, he began in Latin,
praising it as 'the language in which the prelates of the uni-
versal Church communicate with the centre of Catholicism',
but then proceeded to speak in Italian for the rest of his
address since it was better understood by those present. He
concluded: It is perfectly natural that new times and new cir-
cumstances should suggest different forms and methods of
transmitting externally the one and same doctrine, and of
clothing it in a new dress ... only one art, but a thousand
forms' (Rynne: 1996, p. 71).
Conservatives and progressives continued to lobby for or
against the liturgy schema, each camp trying its best to sway
those bishops as yet undecided. In the end, the bishops had
 Worship in Transition 109

spent fifteen general meetings discussing the proposed litur-

gical changes, further delayed by a series of amendments. So
it was not until the end of the second session that the
Council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy: Sacrosanctum
Concilium was presented in its final form, passed the gener-
al vote by a wide margin of 2147 to four and was then prom-
ulgated by newly-elected Pope Paul VI (21 June 1963) on 4
December 1963. It was, in fact, the first Council document to
be promulgated.
The document contains seven chapters that treat the fun-
damental principles of liturgical reform, concrete directives
on the Eucharist, sacraments and sacramentals, liturgy of
the hours, liturgical year, liturgical music, and liturgical art.
It is interesting to note that the liturgical reforms approved
at Vatican II were some of the very things that Martin
Luther and his contemporaries had been asking for back in
the sixteenth century, and again in the Jansenist Synod of
Pistoia of the eighteenth century. Sufficient time had elapsed
from the Reformation in order to revisit some of those deli-
cate questions treated at the Council of Trent, and the col-
lective wisdom contributed by the biblical, ecumenical, litur-
gical, and patristic movements enabled Roman Catholic bish-
ops of the twentieth century to make more informed judge-
ments on the matters at hand.
The Liturgy Constitution is a carefully worded document
and needs to be read accordingly. While it allows for greater
use of the vernacular, for example, it continues to uphold
Latin as the official language of the Church and therefore of
its worship. Thus, despite popular misconceptions, the
Roman Catholic Church did not completely abolish Latin at
the Council. Indeed, the translations of post-Conciliar litur-
gical texts (prayers, readings, and blessings) begin with the
original Latin text (called the editio typica, the 'typical edi-
tion') and from there the text is carefully translated into the
vernacular. Moreover, the document reflects a balance of tra-
110 Worship

dition and progress. Put differently, it reflects the mixed

opinions of the drafters of the Constitution - some more tra-
ditional, others more progressive - and tries to find a middle
ground that will be satisfactory to both sides. The document
is also both pastoral and juridical in scope, promulgated by
the Pope himself, reflecting a combination of general princi-
ples and concrete liturgical reforms. It is also quite radical
when compared with what preceded it, in calling for 'full and
active liturgical participation' by the whole Church (No. 14),
and the openness expressed toward cultural adaptation of
the liturgy, especially in mission areas as an instrument of
evangelization (Nos. 37-40).
Concretely, the Liturgy Constitution insisted on the restora-
tion of liturgical preaching - at least on Sundays and feast days.
The Trayers of the People' were also to be restored, where a
representative (or representatives) of the assembly pray for the
various needs of the Church and wider society. The faithful
were to receive Communion at the Masses they attended and,
according to the circumstances, this might include the offering
of the Chalice, depending on local norms and with the permis-
sion of the diocesan bishop. Concelebration was restored for
certain Masses when large numbers of priests were present (for
example, at ordinations, diocesan meetings, and in religious
communities and monastic churches) both as a means of sym-
bolizing the Church's unity and as a healthy alternative to the
less than ideal private Masses celebrated individually by priests
prior to Vatican II. The ancient period of adult preparation for
Christian baptism (the catechumenate) was restored along
with the traditional unity of the sacraments of Christian
Initiation: Baptism, Confirmation and Eucharist. The principle
hours of the Divine Office (Morning and Evening Prayer) were
restored so as to be properly celebrated and when possible, in
common - even in parish churches.
Sacrosanctum Concilium also attended to a revision of the
liturgical calendar, restoring Sunday as the Lord's Day - the
 Worship in Transition 111

principal liturgical day of the week - and recovering a prop-

er balance between feasts and seasons so that periods such as
Advent and Christmas, Lent and Easter, could be restored to
their original intentions. The Council of Trent attempted to
accomplish the same task, but in the intervening period
between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries the liturgical
calendar had once again become burdened with many feasts
and memorials - even on Sundays - obscuring the rhythm of
the church year.
Paul VI established a special commission on 29 January
1964 to assist with the universal implementation of the newly
approved liturgical reforms for dioceses and regions through-
out the world. Chaired by the liturgically-minded Archbishop
of Bologna, Cardinal Giacomo Lercaro, the international
Consilium, as it was called, consisted of fifty bishops and car-
dinals and over 200 specialists in the field of liturgy. Towards
the end of that year the Instruction on the Implementation of
the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy was issued on 26
September 1964, to be put into effect on 7 March 1965. The
Consilium was given the mandate to revise all liturgical books
following the Council's newly established directives, and to
instruct bishops and dioceses everywhere about the renewed
liturgy and just what its call to Tull and active liturgical par-
ticipation' would mean. The work of the Commission lasted
for five years; in 1969, it was replaced by the Congregation for
Divine Worship (later the Congregation for Divine Worship
and the Discipline of the Sacraments).
Newly revised liturgical books followed. In the English-
speaking world, the task of liturgical translation was execut-
ed by the International Commission on English in the
Liturgy founded in 1963. In 1970, both the Sacramentary
and the Lectionary were published, followed by the Liturgy of
the Hours in 1971 and the Rite of Christian Initiation of
Adults in 1972. These texts, first issued in Latin as the typi-
cal edition (editio typica), were then translated into vernacu-
112 Worship

lar editions by those bishops' conferences and sent to Rome

for official approval. In short, Roman Catholic liturgy would
never be the same. The priest now faced the assembly as he
presided at the Eucharist and churches were renovated to
accommodate this new theology of worship. The assembly
itself recovered its identity as 'subject' rather than 'object' of
the liturgical action - even as the primary symbol of Christ
or the locus of that presence. Christ's presence in the assem-
bly preceded his presence in the Word or the Eucharist. In
short, the recovery of liturgy's multivalent symbolic nature
came to the fore.
The situation was far from perfect, however, as is normal
procedure in most reforms and revolutions. Vatican II's
emphasis on intelligibility and understanding brought with
it the deficit of an unfortunate verbosity - worship replete
with commentators and explanations of each action, includ-
ing rubrical announcements: Tlease stand', Tlease be seat-
ed'. Moreover, the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam, and
Woodstock, ushered in an era of experimentation and a cer-
tain anti-establishment bias found its way into Church wor-
ship as well. While on the one hand such liturgical experi-
mentation was necessary because of the vernacular worship
introduced at Vatican II, it is equally true that some seized
the opportunity as a rebellion against traditional things such
as incense, Gregorian chant, hymnody, and the use of organs,
in favour of that which was deemed 'novel' or 'creative'.
Presiders changed words of liturgical texts (or added new
ones) to create a more informal atmosphere: 'May the special
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.' Others began
Mass with the words, 'Good morning everybody', as if the
prescribed introduction 'In the name of the Father ...' was
somehow deficient and needed an introduction of its own.
Spatially, the changes were equally drastic. Methodist
liturgical historian James White writes: 'It is likely that the
1960s saw as much iconoclasm in Roman Catholic churches
 Worship in Transition 113

as the Reformation had in some Protestant lands. Thousands

of plaster images bit the dust or ended up in flea markets.
Secondary altars were discarded wholesale. Communion rails
and confessional booths disappeared. Stations of the cross
and all kinds of devotional images disappeared ... what
emerged in the 1970s was a severe Catholic :"plain style".
These buildings make it quite clear that the community
gathers for the liturgy, not for devotions. Devotional centres
- tabernacles, stations, images - had been relegated to side
chapels' (White: 1995, p. 118).
Liturgical experimentation reached great heights in the
1970s with home-grown Eucharistic Prayers prayed aloud at
times by the entire assembly, home-made Eucharistic bread
of various shapes and sizes, and the use of popular music
such as Bob Dylan's 'Blowin' in the Wind' or John Lennon's
Imagine' as the Opening or Closing songs at Sunday
Worship. Such experimentation led to the joke about Roman
Catholic worship in the Netherlands during those years:
'Everything changes except the bread and the wine!' Again,
while such a period of experimentation was to be expected in
the aftermath of the Council, it brought with it a new set of
problems, unknown in pre-Conciliar worship. For despite our
best efforts at liturgical intelligibility, the fact remains that
we will only be able to grasp so much of what God is doing
within our world and within us as we worship together. God
is mystery, and our worship of God who is at once immanent
and transcendent will always remain somewhat beyond our
grasp. In its call for 'full and active participation' and greater
intelligibility, Vatican II never envisioned a complete aban-
donment of the transcendent in favour of a more verbal and
pedestrian approach in which every moment of the Mass had
to be explained. With that critique offered, however, the
Church's worship is in a far better place after the Council
than it was before, even as the rough edges continue to be
ironed out forty years later.
114 Worship

Post-Conciliar Ecumenical Cooperation

One of the best gifts of the Conciliar liturgical renewal was

its ecumenical consciousness that had not been so acutely
present in the years that preceded it. The International
Societas Liturgica was founded in 1965 as an ecumenical
academy of liturgical scholars. Through its journal Studia
Liturgica and its bi-annual meetings, that academic body
became a catalyst for shared research and ecumenical litur-
gical change. Four years later, in 1969, another international,
ecumenical body was formed: the International Consultation
on English Texts (ICET), devoted to the composition of litur-
gical texts such as the Gloria, Creed and Lord's Prayer, which
the different Christian churches might use in their respect-
ive worship services. These texts were compiled in the vol-
ume Prayers We Have in Common, published in 1970 and
revised in 1972 and 1975. ICET included Roman Catholic,
Anglican, and Protestant representation from ten English-
speaking countries, and functioned in a similar way to its
Roman Catholic counterpart ICEL, The International
Commission on English in the Liturgy, founded in the same
year. It must be said that much of this newfound ecumenical
collaboration was due to the initiative and generosity of
Anglicans and Protestants who adopted the three-year
Roman Lectionary (1969 and 1980), which included the two
lessons, a gospel, and a responsorial psalm for each Sunday
divided into three yearly cycles.
In 1973, the North American Academy of Liturgy was
founded by Jesuit liturgist John Gallen to further assist ecu-
menical liturgical scholarship in Canada and the United
States. More recently, Jewish liturgical scholars have also
been admitted to membership, adding their own richness. In
1978, the Consultation on Common Texts (CCT) was formed
to evaluate what had become the three-year 'ecumenical' lec-
tionary in order to bring the different churches' lectionaries
 Worship in Transition 115

into greater harmony with one another. Some Protestant

churches complained that the Roman Catholic lections were
too brief and needed further elaboration. While it was under-
standable that Catholics would read shorter lessons since a
complete service of the Eucharist followed, this was not the
case in most Protestant churches where the service of the
Word was all there was and, consequently, longer readings
were preferable. In 1983 the CCT published the Common
Lectionary as a response to ecumenical concerns about the
Roman lectionary and a Revised Common Lectionary was
published more recently in 1992.
As Roman Catholic liturgists continued the process of
revising liturgical books, the liturgical movement in other
churches brought about a concomitant renewal of worship
necessitating the revision of liturgical books within those
communities. Here, too, we see a great deal of ecumenical
borrowing along with the incorporation of agreed-upon com-
mon liturgical texts, thanks to the work of ICET and the
CCT. In the United States, two of the more significant revi-
sions were the Lutheran Book of Worship, published in 1978,
and the revised Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal
Church in 1979. A recent example of ecumenical borrowing
comes from the Church of England's new service book
Common Worship (2000), which contains an edited version of
a Roman Catholic Eucharistic Prayer that was rejected from
the proposed revised Sacramentary.
This ecumenical borrowing has unfortunately been rather
one-sided, however, at least with respect to Roman
Catholicism. While the Catholic Church has voiced little con-
cern over the borrowing of Catholic source material by the
other churches, there has been little interest in admitting
non-Roman Catholic material into its own service books.
Indeed, the most recent Vatican document on liturgical trans-
lation Liturgiam authenticam (2001) warns against a poten-
tial Trotestantization' of Catholic worship through texts
116 Worship

which too closely resemble those of other churches - a very

sad commentary, indeed, forty years after Vatican II. Such sus-
picion has brought about sighs of frustration from members
of the English Language Liturgical Commission (ELLC), a
successor to the ecumenical bodies mentioned earlier, who
have dedicated themselves wholeheartedly to the task of ecu-
menical liturgical collaboration over the years only to
encounter lukewarm reception, at best, from Roman Catholic
officials. To date, the Vatican has yet to approve use of the
Revised Common Lectionary for Roman Catholic usage.

Conclusion
It is fair to say that the results of Roman Catholic liturgical
implementation and instruction have been mixed. Bishops
returned home from the Council with the best of intentions,
and some began liturgical innovations and implementation
of the reforms before they were exactly sure just what they
were supposed to do. In other countries very little was done
by way of catechesis or preparation, and today, forty years
after the Council, the liturgical reforms are visible in those
places but only on a superficial level. Ecumenically, while we
can rejoice that the structure of our Sunday worship ser-
vices bears a remarkable resemblance from one Christian
church to another, and as ecumenical liturgical scholars find
a tremendous amount of common ground in their discus-
sions, we remain a long way from the finish line as evidenced
by restrictive documents such as Liturgiam authenticam.
Across the board, there remains a desperate need for further
liturgical catechesis as too many of those present on Sunday
morning fail to realize that as the Church of Jesus Christ,
they are the very body of Christ which they gather to cele-
brate: thus, the chasm between worship and daily life
remains very wide indeed.
 5
Worship and Culture
Introduction

One of the greatest achievements of Vatican IFs liturgical

reforms was a new awareness of the important relationship
between worship and culture - what would come to be called
'liturgical inculturation'. This was due, in large, to the collab-
orative work of anthropologists, sociologists and theologians
in the post-Conciliar years. Before exploring the historical
and theological foundations of this important concept, how-
ever, a certain definition of terms is essential: what do we
mean by inculturation, or even more fundamentally, how do
we understand and define culture?
Almost thirty years ago, the cultural anthropologist
Clifford Geertz described culture as 'a system of inherited
concepts expressed in symbolic forms which enables us to
"communicate, perpetuate and develop" our understanding
of life and traditional customs' (1973, p. 89). Geertz's defini-
tion is helpful because it demonstrates the importance of
inherited traditions: the modes and methods of communica-
tion, the habits and customs we learn not only for the sake of
survival, but also for the truths and values which guide us
along the way and help us to find our place within society and
the wider universe. Of course, Geertz's approach is but one
way of understanding or explaining the topic. Other anthro-
pologists have approached the concept differently. The useful
book of Michael Paul Gallagher, Clashing Symbols: An
Introduction to Faith and Culture (1997), examines a num-
ber of those different schools of thought.
Attempting to offer a synthesis of the various approaches
to the argument, Gallagher presents three different tenden-
cies in defining the term. The first, 'neutral' description
118 Worship

would include a certain union or integration of various ele-

ments in the story and reality of secular society. The second
tendency he calls 'idealistic', and places individual values in
the wider context of community. The third tendency he calls
'political or moral', and exercises influence over decisions
and actions and therefore is a continuous power (at times
unconscious) over human habits and behaviour (Gallagher:
1997, p. 20).
Before the twentieth century, when reference was made to
culture one normally thought of the great masters such as El
Greco or Rubens, Michelangelo or Bernini, or the music com-
posed by Bach, Beethoven or Mozart, or the writings of
Shakespeare. Thus, one would speak of those who were 'cul-
tured', often used as a synonym for educated and in opposi-
tion to the 'uncultured' - those incapable of appreciating the
beauty of art and architecture, classical philosophy, literature
and music. Expressing this idea more amply in terms of the
liberal arts, Bernard Lonergan defines the 'classical model' of
culture as opposed to what was considered barbaric. Those
who were considered 'cultured' were the just and virtuous,
those idealists who communicated good values to the family,
those who sought universal truths and dedicated themselves
to the good and right (Lonergan: 1972, p. 301). Naturally,
implied in such a vision was the conviction that there is but
one culture into which human beings are initiated: the cul-
ture of arts and letters; of classical music and poetry; and of
art and architecture. The more privileged individuals (the
sophisticated) are fortunate enough to be introduced to that
culture while the less fortunate (the primitive ones) remain
on the outside looking in.
With the advent of the social sciences in the twentieth cen-
tury and, especially, thanks to cultural anthropology, we have
come to understand that the cultural reality is far more com-
plex than had been believed. Rather than the one-culture
model, we now recognize the multiplicity of cultures, each
 Worship and Culture 119

with its unique characteristics and rites of initiation, and

with its own means of including or excluding members from
its rites and traditions. What, in fact, emerged from the
research done in the social sciences was a more empirical
model of culture, which in reality calls into question the
approach and data that had formerly been advanced in the
classical model. A plethora of information was produced
about our mode of understanding human behaviour and soci-
ety. Cultural symbols and ritual systems were examined,
cultural traditions and customs were explored, including
cultural taboos, all of which led to a much richer and more
complex definition of culture in its manifold forms.
In considering worship's rapport with culture, it is good to
keep in mind this distinction between Lonergan's classical
model and the more empirical model proposed by cultural
anthropologists. In fact, Lonergan's definition can be used to
explain the Church's inability to incarnate or inculturate the
Gospel in particular cultures through its long history, pre-
cisely because the only valid cultural model presented was
the classical one from Western Europe. A good example of
this incapacity comes from the Chinese Rites Controversy,
which lasted for almost 150 years, from the beginning of the
seventeenth century until 1742. The conflict between Jesuit
missionaries and civil and ecclesiastical authorities could be
defined in sociological terms as a conflict over which cultural
model was valid: the classical model or the empirical? The
Italian missionary Matteo Ricci and his Jesuit colleagues
dedicated themselves to encouraging and supporting positive
elements in Chinese culture as an important strategy within
the process of evangelization: to make the Christian gospel
more credible and accessible to the Chinese. The approach of
non-Jesuit missionaries, supported by civil and Church
authorities, was to employ the largely white, Western
European classical model as the only valid approach
(Minamiki: 1985).
120 Worship

Even in more recent times, the pre-Conciliar liturgy of the

Roman Catholic Church reflected in large measure the clas-
sical model described by Lonergan. To be Catholic meant to
celebrate Mass in a particular (identical) way, using the same
cultural language - Latin - and following the same cultural
style, even though that liturgy was crafted and intended only
for use in Rome. Conversely, a sociological interpretation of
the post-Conciliar liturgy reflects a more empirical approach
to culture in its rapport with worship. And I would suggest
that some of the culture-related problems which have exist-
ed, and indeed still exist, between missionaries and Church
officials, could be explained - at least on a sociological level -
as a conflict of two divergent world views: a classical vision
which promotes Catholic liturgy as homogeneous with few or
no variations from one place to another, and a more empiri-
cal approach to worship. This latter vision considers the val-
ues, traditions, and symbols within each culture, evaluates
them through a careful process of discernment, and admits
them into worship if the particular cultural elements are
judged acceptable.

Inculturation in the Contexts of Theology and Worship

Contemporary scholars tend to speak of a four-fold theologi-
cal foundation for inculturation: creation, incarnation,
redemption through the paschal mystery and Pentecost. The
accounts of creation in Genesis offer us an ancient example
of dialogue between faith and culture as those positive stories
of God's creative action in the world stood in stark contrast
to the largely negative Babylonian myths of those origins
(conflict and chaos) during the time of the exile.
At the heart of this four-fold structure, the incarnation
offers the foundation par excellence for any discussion on the
subject of inculturation. In the 1995 document Ecclesia in
Africa - fruit of the African Synod - Pope John Paul II spoke
 Worship and Culture 121

of the incarnation of the Word as a mystery that unfolded

within human history, in spatial and temporal circumstances
clearly defined, and in the midst of a people with their own
particular culture (No. 60). Faithful to the language of that
synodal document, we can speak, therefore, of particular cul-
tures as 'potential languages for the Word' that engage in
mutual exchange (Gallagher: 1997, p. 107). In other words, if
cultures need Christ in order to experience the fullness of
their own cultural existence, in a certain sense it is also true
to say that Christ needs culture to contextualize the gift of
the incarnation in specifically historic epochs and places.
The anthropologist Alyward Shorter offers a helpful defi-
nition of the term in his classic text Toward a Theology of
Inculturation. He describes inculturation as 'a creative and
dynamic rapport between the Christian message and a
dynamic of the cultures' (Shorter: 1988, p. 11). Shorter then
underlines three important truths about our subject. In the
first place, inculturation is a work in progress that concerns
every culture and region where the Gospel has been
preached. Second, Christianity can only exist in an appropri-
ated cultural form and expression. Third, reciprocity and dia-
logue must necessarily be at the heart of the relationship
between faith and culture.
Such a dialogue assumes an even more incisive role as we
explore the third theological dimension of inculturation:
redemption, and in particular, the reciprocal nature of evan-
gelization. Consistent with Shorter's definition, Michael Paul
Gallagher speaks of evangelization as a two-sided process of
mutual conversion and reciprocal upbuilding. This is so
because the horizons of faith on the part of the evangelizer
are also challenged and enriched through contact with the
culture to which she or he is sent (Gallagher: 1997, p. 104).
This reciprocal dimension of evangelization is critically
important for our discussion on the operative relationship
between worship and culture and, indeed, applies to all forms
122 Worship

of Christian ministry. In the process of inculturation, there is

little room for 'experts' or 'specialists'. No missionary, no
minister of the gospel, no leader of liturgical prayer is gifted
with the talent of 'having all the answers'. On the contrary,
the fostering of this relationship between worship and cul-
ture more closely resembles that of a pilgrimage where the
pilgrims walk together along the road, rich and poor, the
more and less educated, and together they learn from one
another as they follow the same path.
Reciprocity and dialogue imply mutual correction and
admonition, as was mentioned in the African Synod. In that
meeting, the Bishops of Africa contended that inculturation
(whether of the Gospel itself or of Christian worship) neces-
sarily endeavours to promote a 'transformation' of culture
that follows the logic of redemption. In other words, every
culture needs to be transformed through its contact with the
values of the Gospel (Nos. 59, 61). Here, the text does not
limit itself to accentuating the positive aspects of particular
cultures, but also calls for a certain purification of inhumane
values within those same cultures. This is important since
the inability to critically evaluate and analyse cultural data
could potentially lead to a sort of 'cultural romanticism'.
The fourth theological dimension, Pentecost, posits the
pluralism of cultural diversity. The Pentecost event provides
the foundations for the missionary Church, symbolically
expressed through different cultural languages. Those cul-
tures that had been confused and fragmented at Babel are
transformed in a new harmony guided by the Holy Spirit.
When reference is made to Pentecost, we come to recognize a
number of truths. First, the Spirit was already present with-
in that culture even before it was evangelized; second, it is
precisely inculturation that sustains and promotes unity in
diversity; third, the Church offers a gift to a particular cul-
ture at a particular time and receives a gift in return.
In short, to arrive at a Christianity that is truly incultur-
 Worship and Culture 123

ated, a solid anthropology and Christological theology will be

essential. Jesus, who came to break down barriers between
races and peoples, offering a liberating vision of the world,
invites the churches of our own time to confront the same
challenge: to see the horizon of cultures - each one with its
unique customs and traditions - as a gift rather than a
threat. Concretely, this means that the Church will need to
be open to dialogue with the world in which it dwells and also
with the many and diverse cultures of that world in which
the Gospel of Jesus Christ has been made incarnate.
Whether we are speaking of the inculturation of theology or
of the liturgical rites themselves, the challenge of incultura-
tion can best be understood and rationalized as a gospel
necessity rather than an option.
At the end of the day, it is perhaps easier to engage in the
process of inculturation than to articulate a simple definition
of what the term actually signifies, as evidenced by the var-
ied definitions and interpretations mentioned above. Unlike
culture, the term Inculturation' is relatively new in docu-
ments of the Roman Catholic Church. Indeed, it does not
appear even once in any of the documents of Vatican II. As
we shall see, the Council does speak of the importance of cul-
ture and even of the necessity of adapting the Gospel and the
Church's worship to particular cultures (Sacrosanctum
Concilium 37-40), but the chosen term is 'adaptation' rather
than 'inculturation'.
Introduction of the term 'inculturation' came in 1962
thanks to an article published by Joseph Masson, SJ
('L'Eglise ouverte sur le monde' in Nouvelle Revue
Theologique, 84: 1962, p. 1038) who was then Professor at
the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. In that article,
Masson invited a recognition of the cultural pluralism pres-
ent within the Roman Catholic Church that would enable an
optimal diffusion of the Gospel message in different cultural
contexts. Eleven years later, in 1973, the Protestant mission-
124 Worship

ary and professor George Barney spoke of Christian ele-

ments that come to be 'inculturated' in a book entitled The
Gospel and Frontier Peoples (1973). Ironically, even though
Barney intended to warn his colleagues against incultura-
tion, which ran the risk of losing the essentials of the gospel
message, he nonetheless introduced this new and helpful
term to the English world - a term which has remained in
vogue even to the present (Chupungco: 1992, p. 25).
Clearly, the term 'inculturation' is preferable to 'adapta-
tion' since much more is required of church ministers than a
cursory adaptation of the Gospel or the liturgical rites to the
particular group. Rather, the Gospel message (and Christian
worship which lies at its heart) necessitates a more profound
discernment whereby the seeds that have been planted in
particular cultures are allowed to grow to full stature.
Inculturation begins organically from within the culture and
moves outward, unlike a more superficial or external adapta-
tion that only gradually finds its way into a cultural group.
Consequently, the process of inculturation is inherently rich
and complex as it emboldens the dialogue between faith and
culture in dynamic ways. Thus, we can agree with George
Barney that missionaries must indeed protect the essentials
of Christianity without compromising their beliefs or tradi-
tions. On the other hand, it is equally important that those
ministers permit the process of fermentation and fertiliza-
tion of the Gospel within each particular culture, as is so nec-
essary for its effective propagation. What is said here about
theology and Christian missionary strategy applies, of
course, to the inculturation of Christian worship as well.
In 1975, just two years after Barney's article, the term
'inculturation' was used in discussions at the Jesuits' 32nd
General Congregation held in Rome and appeared in a docu-
ment entitled: 'The Work of Inculturation in the Faith and
the Promotion of the Christian Life'. It is probable that the
term was chosen as the Latin equivalent to the sociological
 Worship and Culture 125

term 'enculturation' which describes the process of socializa-

tion within a particular culture. Unlike the anthropological
'enculturation', the new term 'inculturation' quickly came to
be employed theologically and liturgically Following the lead
of that Congregation the Superior General of the Jesuits,
Pedro Arrupe, wrote an important letter on the subject in
1978, which further promoted inculturation within missiolog-
ical circles. Jesuits, of course, are fundamentally a missionary
order and as Arrupe's letter was diffused throughout the
world where Jesuits worked, its contents were shared and dis-
cussed with colleagues in the ministry leading to further dif-
fusion of the topic both in liturgical and theological contexts.
The following year, in 1979, Pope John Paul II used the
term in his Address to the Pontifical Biblical Commission;
this was the first time in which 'inculturation' appeared in a
papal document. The Pope said: 'Even though it may be a
neologism, the term inculturation reflects very well one of
the components of the mystery of the Incarnation' (Fede e
cultura alia luce della Bibbia, Torino: 1981, p. 5). John Paul
further develops his statement in the document Catechesi
tradendae (No. 53) that treats the relationship between cat-
echesis and culture and was promulgated in the same year.
Also in 1979, the Pontifical Liturgical Institute's Professor of
Cultural Anthropology Crispino Valenziano spoke of the rela-
tionship between popular religion and liturgy (to be explored
in the next chapter), and proposed inculturation as the best
method to foster reciprocity between the two realities.
The definitive document of the Extraordinary Synod of
Bishops held in 1985 offered its own helpful contribution:
'Since the church is a communion, which is present
throughout the world and joins diversity and unity, it takes
up whatever it finds positive in all cultures. Inculturation,
however, is different from a mere external adaptation, as it
signifies an interior transformation of authentic cultural val-
ues through their integration into Christianity and the root-
126 Worship

ing of Christianity in various human cultures' (quoted in

Chupungco: 1992, p. 29).
More recently, the 1994 Document of the Congregation
for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments,
The Roman Liturgy and Inculturation', also prefers the
term 'inculturation' to 'adaptation'. It describes incultura-
tion as a more organic development in which the Church
seeks to incarnate the Gospel in particular cultures, but also
in which the Church is enriched by the cultural contribu-
tions of different peoples. This 'double-movement' is signif-
icant in that it suggests that each entity has something to
learn from the other; it implies a certain reciprocity. That
being said, however, discernment is essential for balanced
judgment as to what cultural elements should or should not
be embraced for the liturgical rites or within theological
inquiry. And of course, even after such a mutual exchange
between Gospel and culture, the Gospel message always
remains counter-cultural and the same holds true for
Christian worship: it too remains counter-cultural. This is
so because it necessarily serves as a prophetic voice within
the culture, challenging the status quo and the various
forms of injustice that continue to plague us today in the
postmodern world.
As reflection on the subject continues, some scholars
believe that the term 'inculturation' doesn't go far enough or
does not fully capture the profound transformation that the
dialogue between faith and culture makes possible. The
World Council of Churches, for example, prefers the term
'contextualization' when addressing this concept in its own
documents. Meanwhile, those who are fearful of too much
inculturation offer their own alternatives. Cardinal Joseph
Ratzinger, for example, Prefect of the Congregation for the
Doctrine of the Faith, has used the term 'inter-culturation' in
his writings and lectures. Ratzinger argues that the Church
itself is a culture with its own particular language (Latin),
 Worship and Culture 127

customs, and traditions. Therefore, when the Church or the

Gospel encounters a particular culture, it is, in fact, one cul-
ture meeting another. Ratzinger's theory would seem to con-
tradict other theories presented above, and also a theology of
the Incarnation in which the Gospel (and Christian Worship)
takes on the flesh and blood of a particular people who lives
in a particular time and place.
The same principles which apply to the dynamic process of
theological inculturation are valid in understanding the rap-
port between worship and culture. In other words, liturgical
inculturation involves a profound dialogue between the par-
ticular culture in question and the rites, symbols and texts of
the Church's worship. When this fusion of the two is suc-
cessfully accomplished, the liturgical assembly recognizes the
worship as its own. This is so because the inculturated rites
communicate the truth and convictions of that particular
group without compromising anything of the faith tradition.
In such contexts, art and vesture, music and gesture, togeth-
er with the symbolic language of those celebrating contribute
harmoniously to the worship, firmly grounded in the life and
mission of that particular community. In such contexts, the
fourth-century words of Saint Augustine are echoed: 'It is
your own mystery that you celebrate.'
The simple presence of four gospels rather than one
already suggests something of the need to contextualize the
message. Matthew's community was radically different from
Luke's, and John's was different from Mark's. The Acts of
the Apostles (Chapter 17) notes a certain change in Paul's
attitude toward the Athenians, from a rather negative opin-
ion of their religious practices to a greater recognition of the
religious values inherent within such customs. Moreover, the
fact that the Christian Scriptures appear in Greek demon-
strates a clear and strategic decision on the part of the first
Christians to propagate the message beyond the confines of
Judaism - 'to all the nations'. From the beginnings of
128 Worship

Christianity, the Apostles and the first disciples of Jesus were

confronted with cultural tensions over circumcision and the
covenant, the role of women, dietary laws; priesthood linked
to the temple, to sacrifice, to the synagogue, to the Sabbath,
and to the paschal lamb. The position of Jesus, confirmed by
the missionary activity recorded in the Acts, sheds light on
the earliest convictions about the Christian faith in its rap-
port with culture. Namely, we see a sharp cultural accomo-
dation from the outset, not a blind or flippant assent to all
cultural practices of the day, but a desire to apply and adapt
the message to the particular group. This meant diversity
and change in how the message was preached and how the
worship was performed according to the context.
As Christian worship took shape in the earliest times, we are
aware of the tremendous amount of cultural borrowing that
took place. Hebrew and Aramaic words quickly found their way
into the Church's liturgical vocabulary with terms like
Hosanna, Alleluia, Maranatha, Amen, and so forth. Most of us
give little thought to the origins of those words as we proclaim
them on our lips today, but the fact of the matter is that they
are not Christian in origin; they were borrowed from Judaism.
And there are other examples, such as the ancient practice of
Morning and Evening Prayer - Lauds and Vespers as they came
to be called. Christians simply borrowed this practice from the
Jews who traditionally prayed daily at sunrise and sundown.
The public reading of Sacred Scripture in the liturgical assem-
bly followed by a reflection (admonition) on the lessons is yet
another ancient Jewish practice which Christians adopted for
their own purposes. The Eucharistic meal itself finds its origins
in Jewish ritual meals, and the Christian custom of anointing
those who are ill with holy oil (faithful to the command record-
ed in the Letter of James 5:14-15) was common fare for Jewish
believers in their care of ill members.
In the Graeco-Roman world of the second and third cen-
turies, further examples of cultural exchange are presented.
 Worship and Culture 129

On the one hand, the desire remained to distinguish Christ-

ianity from other religions, while on the other hand a borrow-
ing continued from one religion to another. One distinction
can be seen regarding venues for worship and interpretation
of 'sacrifice'. While the Greek mystery religions used the
temple as locus for worship, Christians continued to meet in
their homes. And while mystery cults like that of Mithras
included animal sacrifice as a central part of the ritual,
Christians gathered to celebrate the bloodless sacrifice of
praise and thanksgiving. Interestingly, in this period there
was also reluctance on the part of Christians to make use of
altars since they were so clearly associated with pagan prac-
tices. As we have seen in the second chapter, the Roman Rite
grew out of the cultural genius of fifth-century Rome, which
was noted for its brevity and sobriety. Thus, when Roman
Christians gathered together to worship in that historical
epoch they were doing so in an inculturated way. Their litur-
gical texts and worship style were typical of what they would
have known in Roman court ceremonial of the day as well as
in secular literary style.
In an important article on liturgical inculturation in the
East, Robert Taft mentions some examples from those
churches. In particular, he cites the missionary efforts of the
Apostles to the Slavs Cyril (+869) and Methodius (+885)
(Taft: 1998). Those missionaries understood the significance
of vernacular worship as an important tool in their evangel-
ical strategy, and they translated the necessary liturgical
books and biblical texts into Old Slavonic as a result. The
task was easier said than done, however, as some strong
opponents among the German clergy argued that to be
Catholic meant to pray in Latin, and therefore accused Cyril
and Methodius of tampering with the very tenets of the
Catholic Faith. One hundred years earlier, another group of
German clergy (called 'the trilinguists') had been condemned
at the Synod of Frankfurt for insisting that God could only
130 Worship

be worshipped in the three languages written on the cross

(Hebrew, Latin, and Greek). Some of their descendants
remained, however, and they were the very ones who did
their best to impede Cyril and Methodius' efforts at liturgical
inculturation among the Slavs. The story does have a happy
ending, however. Unlike the Chinese Rites Controversy that
would arrive 800 years later, those who opposed cultural
accommodations lost the battle, and the Christian faith took
hold in Slavic lands with its own inculturated liturgy.

The Second Vatican Council and Liturgical Inculturation

With the Second Vatican Council the Church attempted to
return to the noble simplicity of the Roman Rite, eliminating
many of the non-Roman accretions (superfluous prayers and
gestures) that gradually made their entrance over the cen-
turies. Moreover, the Council permitted and even encouraged
an adaptation of the Roman Rite to the particular cultural
contexts where it was being celebrated. In order that the
liturgy and the Church's evangelical mission might be prop-
agated throughout the world, the Council vigorously
affirmed that cultural plurality was intrinsically Catholic.
Many justifiably defined Numbers 37-40 of the Liturgy
Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium as the Magna carta of
liturgical inculturation:
'Even in the liturgy, the Church has no wish to impose a
rigid uniformity in matters which do not implicate the faith or
the good of the whole community; rather does she respect and
foster the genius and talents of the various races and peoples.
Anything in these peoples' way of life which is not indissol-
ubly bound up with superstition and error she studies with
sympathy and, if possible, preserves intact. Sometimes in fact
she admits such things to the liturgy itself, so long as they
harmonize with its true and authentic spirit' (No. 37).
Sacrosanctum Concilium then accentuates the possibility
 Worship and Culture 131

that provisions be made Tor legitimate variations and adap-

tations to different groups, regions and peoples ... provided
that the substantial unity of the Roman Rite is preserved'
(No. 38). The most advanced prospect comes in Number 40
when it affirms that 'in some places and circumstances, how-
ever, an even more radical adaptation of the liturgy is need-
ed'. Moreover, the Roman Ritual (a collection of blessings
and particular rites) is to be adapted to local regions, includ-
ing the use of local languages (No. 63b).
Vatican IPs Decree on the Missionary Activity of the Church,
Ad Gentes, underlined the importance of Christianity which is
incarnated in a particular culture, emphasizing respect for the
varied cultures of the world with an implied respect for the
localized liturgical rites celebrated in those regions:
'The Church, sent by Christ to reveal and to communicate
the love of God to all men and nations, is aware that there
still remains a gigantic missionary task for her to accomplish.
For the Gospel message has not yet, or hardly yet, been heard
by two billion human beings (and their number is increasing
daily), who are formed into large and distinct groups by per-
manent cultural ties, by ancient religious traditions, and by
firm bonds of social necessity ... The Church, in order to be
able to offer all of them the mystery of salvation and the life
brought by God, must implant herself into these groups for
the same motive which led Christ to bind Himself, in virtue
of His Incarnation, to certain social and cultural conditions
of those human beings among whom He dwelt' (No. 10).
Finally, the Council's concluding document, on the Church in
the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes, called Roman Catholics
to recognize that to be Catholic means much more than identi-
fying exclusively with a particularized interpretation of that
Catholicity (for example, a European interpretation). In the
section entitled 'The Many Rapports between the Gospel of
Christ and Culture' we read:
'... the Church, sent to all peoples of every time and place,
132 Worship

is not bound exclusively and indissolubly to any race and

nation, any particular way of life or any customary way of life
recent or ancient. Faithful to her own tradition and at the
same time conscious of her universal mission, she can enter
into communion with the various civilizations, to their
enrichment and the enrichment of the Church herself.'
All of this, of course, is a radical departure from what pre-
ceded it in the Tridentine period which strove to maintain a
rigid liturgical uniformity at all cost. To be 'Catholic' meant
that the liturgy was to be celebrated in a virtually identical
manner whether in Lyon or Lima. The documents cited above
suggest a cultural plurality of liturgical style that would be far
more consistent with the ancient practice of the early Church
and what perdured in the churches of the East. As in the days
of Cyril and Methodius, some of the more conservative stripe
in our own day have attempted to argue that liturgical incul-
turation threatens the unity of the Roman Rite and, indeed,
our very identity as Roman Catholics. Ironically, critics of this
heightened relationship between worship and culture would
find themselves at odds with the current Pope, John Paul II,
who has made more positive statements on the subject than
all of his predecessors combined.

Liturgical Inculturation in the Ecumenical and

Multicultural Contexts of the New Millennium
The topic of inculturation has also produced some marvellous
ecumenical exchange on the topic. When the Lutheran World
Federation devoted its efforts to exploration of this impor-
tant relationship between worship and culture, it was the
Roman Catholic Benedictine liturgist Anscar Chupungco
who was invited to join the group as consultant. In Roman
Catholic circles, Chupungco is considered the godfather of
liturgical inculturation since he has written the most on the
subject and is most often quoted by other scholars as they
 Worship and Culture 133

address the subject. In January 1996 at Nairobi, Kenya, the

Lutheran World Federation held its third international con-
sultation on the topic and produced 'The Nairobi Statement
on Worship and Culture'.
The statement delineates four modes in which Christian
worship relates to culture in a dynamic way. It concludes that
worship is 1) 'transculturaT or universal, for example, tran-
scending the particular culture; 2) 'contextual'; 3) 'counter-
cultural'; and 4) 'cross-cultural', for example, permitting an
exchange and collaboration between different local cultures
(Lathrop: 1999, pp. 233-6). I would suggest that what the
Nairobi statement affirms about worship might and indeed
should be applied to the Gospel and the Church itself. Indeed,
the credibility and future of the Church will depend on its
ability to be trans-cultural, contextual, counter-cultural, and
its ability to overcome the differences between and among
cultures (cross-cultural).
These cultural dimensions of Christian worship are impor-
tant as we consider the changing face of the churches in this
new millennium. At the beginning of the twentieth century,
80 per cent of all Christians were white and lived in the
northern hemisphere. By the year 2020, 80 per cent of all
Christians will be people of colour who live in the southern
hemisphere. In the United States, Time magazine has pre-
dicted that in the year 2056 the typical U.S. citizen 'will come
from Africa, Asia, from the Hispanic world, from the islands
of the Pacific and from the Arabian peninsula, from just
about every place imaginable except white Europe' (Pecklers
in Francis and Pecklers: 2000, p. 57). Thus, as we face the
future, the propagation of the Christian message will depend
in large measure on the capacity of the Church's ministers to
communicate it in an inculturated way. Liturgically, the 1988
Vatican approval of the proposed 'Zairean (Congolese) Rite'
(The Roman Missal for the Dioceses of Zaire) was a major
step forward toward the contextualization of the Christian
134 Worship

message in Congo. Much more remains to be done, however.

Almost five years ago now, the Vietnamese theologian
Peter Phan raised some interesting questions about the rap-
port between worship and culture (Phan: 1998, pp. 194-6).
He treats the importance of inculturation in the context of
his native Vietnam, and offers an example from the Co Ho
community in the mountainous region of Dalat in the south.
The community belongs to the Mon-Khmer tribe of the
region and is traditionally a matriarchal society where the
tribal head is always a woman. At the moment of marital
engagement, for example, it is the woman who proposes to
the man, and when children are born into the family they
take the mother's name rather than the father's. Also, the
term Khmer Mekhlot that signifies 'head of the family' refers
to the mother.
The situation becomes rather complicated when one con-
siders the community's liturgical life. Phan refers to the
number of anomalies imposed on the community as it gath-
ers. For example, a foreigner must be employed to lead the
worship since no male within the community is prepared to
serve in this role for a number of reasons. The primary rea-
son, of course, is that he would need to be celibate - a concept
foreign to that tribal community. One could imagine further
problems of comprehension within such a matriarchal socie-
ty where the worship leader is not a woman but a man - the
antithesis of how that community functions on all other lev-
els of society. Moreover, this strange priest vests himself in
bizarre clothing to celebrate these cultic rituals - clothing
which makes no sense in the context of that culture. The rit-
uals and gestures themselves appear equally strange, Phan
notes. Genuflections are non-existent in that culture, for
example; they are accustomed to bowing or to other bodily
gestures. The liturgical texts are also foreign both in their lit-
erary structure and cadence. Consequently, they fail to cap-
ture the cultural, literary genius of the Co Ho people.
 Worship and Culture 135

Phan's Vietnamese example could, of course, be applied to

many other cultures as well, particularly in those regions and
countries where Christianity is little known. India, for exam-
ple, would be a very interesting case study on this topic with
hundreds of cultural groups living in the same country. Each
of these groups operates with its own language and tradi-
tions, and enjoys free and easy communication (at least in
some areas) between Christians and Hindus and other reli-
gions. Some Indian liturgical scholars and theologians
(including several bishops) have recently raised the question
of including the reading of Sacred Hindu Scriptures during
Roman Catholic Eucharist. Their agenda is not so much to
push a certain liturgical amalgamation among different reli-
gions as much as to acknowledge that those non-Christian
scriptures are considered sacred texts by all Indians - Hindus
and Christians alike. As such, the bishops and theologians
argue that the texts deserve to be reverenced, even within
Christian worship. Vatican officials are well aware of these
tensions and proposals and have responded with a stern
rebuke when the issue is presented, as they fear an inappro-
priate blending of religious practices (called syncretism) that
might cause Catholicism to lose its own unique heritage.
Another aspect of the Indian problem involves the recep-
tion of Holy Communion. I was present in Rome at a meet-
ing last year when a prominent Indian theologian raised the
question of offering the Eucharist to Hindus or Muslims
when they are present at Catholic Mass, as a gesture of
sacred hospitality - so important within Indian culture. As
one might imagine, that proposal drew some very strong
reactions from other participants since Roman Catholics
believe that the Eucharist is the Body and Blood of Christ
and only baptized Catholics may receive it. While some in
that room would have been open to further discussion on the
topic of intercommunion with Anglicans and Lutherans, the
idea of giving communion to non-Christians was simply too
136 Worship

much to bear. In other parts of the world, bishops and dioce-

san liturgy directors have inquired about substituting bread
and wine for alternative materials, either because wine and
bread are unavailable (or never used in domestic life) or
because they are too costly.
These examples are perhaps extreme, but they point to the
complexity of the issue as the Church endeavours to make its
worship credible as it is properly inculturated and contextu-
alized, but without compromising its doctrine and beliefs.
Nonetheless, with those cautions considered, there is much
room for a genuine inculturation of Christian worship and
we must make it our aim to do so. As we have seen, the his-
tory of Christian worship is a history of change, and worship
must continually adapt to evolving cultures if it is to effect-
ively respond to the signs of the times and authentically
express the needs and desires of the particular communities
which gather to praise and worship God. If the Gospel mes-
sage continues to be contextualized or inculturated as
expressed through worship and theology, then we have every
reason to believe that the Church will continue to prosper.
Attempts, however, to close the doors and turn the clocks
back toward a rigid Tridentine liturgical uniformity will
most certainly produce disastrous results.

Conclusion
In the already cited article by Robert Taft, he offers an
insightful list of ten points that merit our attention. 1) The
mere existence of liturgical inculturation in the history of the
Church demonstrates quite clearly that the concept of con-
textualized worship is not impossible. 2) The record shows
that inculturation has always had its inherent struggles and
has never been accomplished without problems and even
serious controversies. 3) In virtue of eventual inclusion with-
in rites themselves, those cultural elements to be admitted
 Worship and Culture 137

into Christian worship must be both reinterpreted and trans-

formed. 4) When the gospel encounters different cultures, it is
the culture that is transformed and changed, not the gospel.
5) The process of inculturation is always dialectical, given
that it demands a reciprocal dialogue between faith and cul-
ture. 6) The necessary process of discernment includes both
the refusal to admit certain cultural elements into the liturgy
and the inclusion of others. 7) With very few exceptions, incul-
turation is successful only when the local language of partic-
ular peoples is adopted. 8) It is always the Church and not
individuals who decide which cultural elements are accept-
able and therefore worthy for admission into Christian wor-
ship. 9) Liturgical traditions are not invented at the whim of
a liturgist or religious education director, but develop and
evolve over time. History will tell whether certain elements
are able to survive, depending largely on whether or not they
are predicated on the liturgical genius of a particular people
in a particular time. 10) Inculturation is an ongoing process
that never ends; failure to inculturate can be equated with
death (Taft: 1998, pp. 43-5).
In this chapter we have seen both from historical and theo-
logical perspectives that if the liturgy is to be the prophetic
voice for our Church and for wider human society, then it will
need to be incarnated and inculturated, contextualized, and
capable of addressing the problems within peoples' lives. As
always, we need to be balanced in our reflections, solidly
grounding our inculturation of worship within the tradition
of the Church as Robert Taft reminds us. But it is precisely
our dedication to the furthering of the rapport between wor-
ship and culture that will enable Christians to be more com-
petent dialogue partners in what Karl Rahner called the
'world church'. One of the important aspects of the incultur-
ation of worship involves various aspects of popular religios-
ity as demonstrative of cultural identity. Our next chapter
will consider the important relationship between those pop-
138 Worship

ular devotions and worship and the ways in which the incul-
turation of worship provides the necessary framework for
such religiosity.
 6
Worship and Popular Religion
Introduction

In the previous chapter we considered the important rela-

tionship between worship and culture and the concrete
implications for living out that worship within different cul-
tural contexts. The phenomenon of popular religiosity offers
some interesting and, indeed, colourful examples of what can
happen when culture and worship meet. In a certain sense,
this chapter continues the discussion initiated in the last one
and raises some questions about the relationship between
the 'popular' and 'official' prayer of Christians in diverse cul-
tural contexts. Most believers today would probably find a
definition of worship fairly easy to come by, but a definition
of popular religion or 'religiosity' as it is sometimes called
might well present a few challenges. Italian liturgist
Domenico Sartore describes popular religiosity in this way: 'a
set of spiritual attitudes and cultic expressions which are var-
iously connected with the liturgy' (Sartore: 1989, p. 232).
Sartore contends that we must be careful not to interpret
'religiosity' too subjectively as if to suggest that 'anything
goes'. Religiosity is a genuine, concrete expression of genuine
religion, even when at times it appears to be lacking in solid
doctrinal or ecclesiological foundations. But it is not some-
thing invented in the minds of practitioners, as would be the
case with some forms of 'new age' religion.
The term 'popular' is not meant to suggest something that
is favoured by the people (for example, a popular movie or
restaurant) but rather, the reference is to the people them-
selves - something done by the people or that is of the peo-
ple. As a matter of fact, there are some liturgical events like
Ash Wednesday or Palm Sunday that are quite popular -
140 Worship

many people attend - yet are official rituals of the Church

and not expressions of 'popular' religion. Conversely, there are
some expressions of 'popular' religiosity that are, in fact, not
very popular at all, yet they fall into this category because
they represent forms of piety which are unofficial and exe-
cuted by the people (Chupungco: 1992, pp. 100-1).
This phenomenon of popular religion was not immediate-
ly on the minds of liturgical reformers at the Second Vatican
Council. Indeed, there is precious little information on the
subject available before the 1960s. Many forms of popular
religiosity existed before the Council, of course (rosaries,
novenas and processions), but they were never perceived as
constituting a unified area of study. That situation changed
in the 1970s as an extraordinary amount of material was
published within a short period of time. In a bibliography on
the subject published in 1979, E Trolese noted 528 titles deal-
ing with various aspects of popular religiosity (Trolese: 1979,
pp. 273-5). The 1980s and 1990s witnessed an even greater
amount of articles and books, especially in Latin America
with the growth of Liberation theology and Latino/a theolo-
gy. A brief consideration of the historical development of the
topic is in order.

Historical Foundations
Popular religion traces its foundations to the origins of
Christianity, and includes devotions, prayers, and pious exer-
cises done by the people and without the required assistance
of a member of the clergy, although there might well be
clergy members present. Today in Catholic countries like
Italy and Spain, one can still find churches where elderly
women lead a rosary or prayer to a particular saint before or
after Mass, but the tradition of such lay-led devotions is more
ancient, pre-dating even the origins of the rosary itself.
Moreover, it is interesting to note the existence of popular
 Worship and Popular Religion 141

religiosity in varied forms far beyond the confines of

Christianity. The annual Muslim pilgrimage of the Hajj to
Mecca offers one example; the Confucian domestic ritual of
ancestor worship offers another. Indeed, examples abound
from Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Shintoism, Tenrikyo,
and from many other religions.
In Rome, Christians visited the tombs of the martyrs from
the second century, especially on Sunday afternoons, when
the family took a leisurely walk along the Via Appia Antica
to visit the catacombs and offer a prayer. From the begin-
ning, there was a strong sense of intercession - membership
in the communion of saints. This was not ancestor worship,
but a sense of being linked and connected with their
Christian forebears, believing that the deceased would now
be able to intercede for them from another shore. This can be
deduced from ancient graffiti found on the walls of the cata-
combs with short intercessions: Teter, pray for Victor', for
example.
With the Peace of Constantine, which legalized Christian-
ity at the beginning of the fourth century, religious centres
like Rome and Jerusalem became places of pilgrimage. The
pilgrims themselves came from great distances; those jour-
neys were usually made at great expense and not without
inherent risks. Life along the road was dangerous as bandits
stalked the travellers awaiting an opportune moment to seize
their possessions and perhaps inflict physical harm or even
death. Pilgrims were aware of such risks, often leaving a 'last
will and testament' with family members prior to their
departure and seeking the bishop's blessing before setting
out on the journey. Because of the distances involved, those
who dedicated themselves to pilgrimage would be away for
several years. Forfeiting three years of salary, it was clearly
the more affluent members of the Church who were able to
afford such trips. One of the best testimonies of the
Jerusalem pilgrimage comes from the Spanish noblewoman
142 Worship

Egeria, who made her way from Galicia in north-western

Spain to Jerusalem where she remained from about the year
384 to 387. Egeria had an extraordinary eye for detail and
recorded much about the pilgrimage itself and what she
observed liturgically during her Jerusalem sojourn.
There are, of course, many other examples of Christian
pilgrimages which played a significant role in people's expe-
rience of conversion and catharsis as they encounter them-
selves along the road in all their humanity, and as they are
forced to eat the same food as other pilgrims and share the
same lodging. This became all the more poignant in the
Middle Ages as devotional pilgrimages were more widespread
to places like Compostella in Galicia and Walsingham in
England. Some pilgrims set out along the path as an act of
penance for having committed a grave sin, while others did
so with a particular petition in mind. Beginning in the sev-
enth century, bishops and abbots made their way to Rome
along with other pilgrims, to be near the tombs of Peter and
Paul and to reaffirm their commitment to the See of Peter.
The official visits of diocesan bishops, Ad Limina Aposto-
lorum ('to the threshold of the apostles'), find their origin in
this practice. There are also the human dimensions to such
journeys, as delightfully exhibited in Geoffrey Chaucer's clas-
sic Canterbury Tales. And for many, there is also a certain
degree of tourism mixed with the pious devotion. Indeed,
even in our own day it is not always easy to discern where
one begins and the other ends.
Until fairly recently, some liturgical scholars presented the
origins of popular religiosity in the medieval period as a lay
response to an increase of the clericalization of the liturgy.
While that portrayal of medieval lay piety is generally accu-
rate (with a few exceptions), its foundations are much older
with examples of a piety that did not conflict, in fact, with the
liturgical participation of the laity in any significant way. In
other words, those two realities were not mutually exclusive.
 Worship and Popular Religion 143

The problem with the medieval practise was precisely that

the earlier balance between the Church's extra-liturgical
devotional life and its fundamental worship life had been
lost. The result was that devotions such as Eucharistic ado-
ration and Corpus Christi processions came to be viewed as
more significant than the Mass itself. The origin of the
Corpus Christi procession presents a helpful illustration of
this point. In 1236, a German priest on pilgrimage to Rome
prayed for the grace necessary to believe in the doctrine of
transubstantiation - that the bread and wine ceased to be
bread and wine at the moment of consecration but rather
became Christ's flesh and blood. As he celebrated Mass at
Bolsena near Orvieto, the host apparently dripped blood onto
the altar cloth. Following that event, the feast of Corpus
Christi (the Body of Christ) originally instituted at Liege was
extended as a universal feast for the whole Church in 1314
by Pope Clement V Eucharistic processions flourished as a
result (Cattaneo: 1992, p. 261). There were also extreme
examples of Eucharistic devotion, where some members of
the faithful reported numerous miracles associated with the
Eucharist - bleeding hosts, and so forth. Others believed that
those who saw the elevated host at that moment of elevation
would never grow old.
The situation was not much better regarding the cult of
the saints. God was considered by many to be too far
removed from normal, human experience. Mary and the
saints, on the other hand, were far more accessible. Certain
saints took on medical specializations: eye problems could be
directed to one particular saint; back pain to another; women
who sought male companionship could apply to another. It
was not long before superstitious practices found their own
way in - always under the guise of devotion, but creating a
parallel axis from that the Church officially held on a doctri-
nal level. It was those abuses that provoked a stern rebuke
from reformers such as Martin Luther, who complained that
144 Worship

such excessive devotion to Mary and the saints had seriously

compromised Christ's intercessory role within the Church.
Lest the picture appear too grim, one can also find some
positive examples of lay religiosity in the fourteenth-century
lay confraternities of Florence; and also in Rome, Seville,
Granada, and in other parts of Europe as well. Lay people in
such groups dedicated themselves to prayer and devotions in
common which usually included some form of social outreach
- caring for the sick and poor, burying the dead who had no
one left to arrange for their funerals, visiting the imprisoned
or other works of charity. Devotionally, those groups met
weekly (or occasionally more often) to hear lay preaching,
pray Compline (Night Prayer) or offer more devotional lita-
nies and prayers. In some instances, they engaged in the
physical discipline of self-flagellation both for personal mor-
tification and atonement for their sins. In southern Spain
(and Spanish-influenced regions like Naples and Sicily) the
highpoint of the year was Holy Week when the confraterni-
ties (hermandades) engaged in colourful penitential proces-
sions accompanied by music, recalling some particular aspect
of Christ's passion, death and resurrection (or that of the
sorrowful Virgin Mary). In the midst of each procession
where participants wore festive costumes was a float made of
precious metals adorned with jewels, on which was placed the
appropriate representation of Christ or the Virgin, surrounded
by candles and incense. Given its weight, it was carried by
perhaps twenty or thirty men who offered this physical exer-
cise in atonement for their sins. Today, those Holy Week pro-
cessions can still be observed, especially in southern Spain.
In Germany and elsewhere, medieval mystery plays served
another important devotional function.
Such positive examples of religious piety in the Middle Ages
and the Renaissance offer a certain balance to an otherwise
problematic scene of devotional life in that period which had
eclipsed the importance of rightful participation in Christian
 Worship and Popular Religion 145

worship - a scene with which the Protestant reformers were

more than acquainted. The Council of Trent played its part in
challenging abuses where they existed, but the rift between
the Church's liturgical life and popular devotional practices
remained in place until the Second Vatican Council.

The Conciliar Reforms

Inspired by the fresh liturgical reforms of Vatican II, pastors
and liturgists set their sights on greater participation in cor-
porate worship, doing their best to wean parishioners off
their private devotions during Mass so that they might be
better disposed to the richer fare which the Church was now
offering them. Had liturgists been more aware of popular
religiosity's positive foundations in the early Church and of
its helpful role within Christian life, the situation might have
been different, but that was not the case. Indeed, when pop-
ular religion figured in the agenda of the liturgical movement
at all, it did so negatively - in competition with the liturgical
renewal. Thus, it should come as no surprise that the subject
received such little attention in Sacrosanctum Concilium. It
is mentioned only once, in Number 13:
'Popular devotions of the Christian people are to be highly
commended, provided they are in accord with the laws and
norms of the Church, above all when they are ordered by the
Apostolic See. Devotions proper to individual Churches also
have a special dignity if they are undertaken by mandate of
the bishops according to customs or books lawfully approved.
But these devotions should be so drawn up that they harmo-
nize with the liturgical seasons, accord with the sacred litur-
gy, are in some fashion derived from it, and lead the people to
it, since, in fact, the liturgy by its very nature far surpasses
any of them.'
We can observe two things in this statement. First, popu-
lar devotions are presented in a positive light in that they can
146 Worship

assist Church members in preparing for liturgical celebra-

tions and, indeed, lead believers to the liturgy. Those same
devotions flow from the liturgy but their role always remains
ancillary to the liturgy itself. Second, there is a note of cau-
tion. These devotions must be carefully executed so as not to
create a parallel structure apart from the Church or from
official Church teaching.
A few examples may be helpful here. Several years ago I
was away for the weekend with some Jesuit friends at a sea-
side resort south of Rome. As we prepared to celebrate the
Eucharist together on Sunday, the woman who ran the pen-
sione with her husband asked us if she and her family might
join us: 'It's kind of a novelty for us, you see, because we
don't get to Mass very often at all, but we do visit a lot of
shrines.' These were wonderful and very dedicated people,
who at some point had determined that visiting a chapel or
shrine to say a prayer and light a votive candle was somehow
equal to going to Mass with the rest of the Church on Sunday
morning. I have subsequently met others who have described
their own religiosity in similar terms. A second example
comes from the Balkans, and the popular Marian shrine of
Medjugorje. Some devout Catholics will be surprised to know
that Church officials have never declared those alleged
apparitions as legitimate, nor do they approve of Medju-
gorje's use as a shrine and pilgrimage site. And there are
other reports of 'weeping Madonnas' scattered throughout
the world which seem to be turning up with ever-greater fre-
quency. The Vatican consistently distances itself from those
alleged apparitions even as hundreds and thousands of
believers flock to those locations. This is precisely what
Sacrosanctum Concilium is concerned about when it says
that devotions should be encouraged 'provided that they are
in accord with the laws and norms of the Church'. The
recently published Directory on Popular Piety (2002), issued
by the Vatican's Congregation for Divine Worship and the
 Worship and Popular Religion 147

Discipline of the Sacraments, expresses a similar concern.

The concern, in general, is that greater attention seems to be
paid to such ecstatic experiences than to the centrality of
Christ in the experience of worship itself - the heart of the
Church's life.
Therefore, we can say with some certitude that popular
devotions and the wider theme of popular religiosity were not
a primary concern of those who shaped the Council's Liturgy
Constitution, nor was it a concern of those who implemented
the reforms. Rather, those devotions appear in the document
as a kind of afterthought. If anything, they were viewed with
some degree of suspicion - actions which might draw people
away from communal worship and from liturgy's fundamental
role as 'source and summit of the Christian life' (Chupungco:
1992, pp. 96-7). How, then, did the topic of popular religiosity
gain such respectability in liturgical circles? There are several
important factors, I believe, which must be mentioned.
First, the evolution of Liberation theology brought with it a
helpful analysis of the role that these pious activities played in
the lives of the poor and, with significant advances in liturgi-
cal science, liturgists began to take note. One of Vatican IFs
great rediscoveries was worship's connection to the rest of life
including the sociological realities of celebrating communities.
Thus, there was an expressed need to attend to the popular
forms of prayer as well as the more official. Sacrosanctum
Concilium itself affirmed this in Number 12 when it stated
that 'the spiritual life is not limited solely to the liturgy'.
Second, liturgists were not always the most pastoral in
their approach to how best to implement the reforms, and it
was the more pastorally-minded catechists (especially those
coming from Latin America) who eventually convinced litur-
gists that expressions of popular religion served a function
which liturgy was not always able to match. Popular devo-
tions had a way of touching the heart, moving the faithful to
greater conversion or compassion. Furthermore, they assist-
148 Worship

ed in the task of evangelization, and produced an intimacy

and warmth often missing from liturgical celebrations that
came off as being too cold and formal with a God who seemed
too distant. This remained the case even after Vatican II with
renewed worship in the vernacular.
Liturgists and theologians explored the relationship of liturgy
and popular religion in the ensuing years. Salvatore Marsili,
for example, an Italian Benedictine who served as a major
liturgical consultant at the Second Vatican Council, described
liturgy as something done by the Church, while popular devo-
tions are worship done in the Church. Given that distinction,
however, Marsili continues that any form of prayer in which
the Christian community engages as members of the Church,
desiring to celebrate the mystery of Christ united with its
bishops and pastors, contains the liturgical essentials and can
be considered 'liturgy', albeit in a more general sense (Marsili:
1981, p. 151). Marsili's colleague at the Pontifical Liturgical
Institute, Domenico Sartore, posited the claim that popular
religiosity should actually be a catalyst in the renewal of
church life 'which by virtue of its mission cannot be reduced
to a church of the elites' (Sartore: 1989, p. 234). In other
words, the Church and its worship have no future if they are
relegated to a form and structure with a distant and exalted
language, removed from ordinary people and ordinary lives.
Popular religion offers a great corrective here precisely because
it is so accessible to simple and ordinary people, and empow-
ers them to recognize their own dignity and role within the
wider Church.
Philippine liturgical scholar Anscar Chupungco OSB
argues for a 'reciprocal relationship' between worship and
popular religion so that they 'enter into the dynamic of inter-
action and mutual assimilation in order to be enriched with
each other's pertinent qualities'. In other words, the symbol-
ic richness and cultural traditions inherent within popular
religion could greatly enhance our liturgical life and, in fact,
 Worship and Popular Religion 149

prepare the faithful for more active liturgical participation.

Official worship, on the other hand, could be instructive for
the various devotions within popular religiosity as it makes
its own contribution. For Chupungco, the only key to foster-
ing such reciprocity comes through inculturation. Culture is
the natural locus both for worship and popular religion, and
it is precisely the process of inculturation that enables such
mutual enrichment (Chupungco: 1992, pp. 99-100).
In 1975, it was precisely the topic of culture that formed
the core of Paul VTs encyclical Evangelii nuntiandi. In that
document, the Pope addressed the subject of popular piety in
the contextual terms of popular culture, speaking of it as 'the
religion of the people'. Moreover, he urged a rediscovery of
popular religiosity and its importance as an instrument of
evangelization. Popular culture is to be evangelized, the Pope
argues (No. 20), and it is popular religion that can greatly
assist such efforts.
On the level of episcopal conferences, the greatest treat-
ment of the issue came from Latin America in two plenary
sessions of all the bishops: the Second Latin American
Episcopal conference (CELAM) held at Medellin in 1968, and
the third conference held at Puebla in 1979. The sixth docu-
ment of the Medellin Conference dealt with popular religion
and offered a cautious evaluation of some of its practices.
Tension was noted over religious events such as baptisms or
first communions that appeared to be more social than reli-
gious in actuality. Moreover, ritual practices were questioned
such as devotions, processions, and pilgrimages centred on
the sacraments, which were described as 'ceremonialism',
capable of compromising 'the integrity of Christianity'.
Positively, however, the bishops at Medellin also recognized
popular religion as a well-spring of genuine Christianity
(Candelaria: 1990, pp. 20-1).
We can observe a marked difference when that same bish-
ops' assembly reconvened at Puebla eleven years later.
150 Worship

Influenced by Evangelii nuntiandi (published only four years

before), the bishops' evaluation of popular religiosity is far
more benign. Unlike earlier statements made at Medellin,
the bishops now recognized popular religion as expressive of
all Catholics in Latin America - rich and poor alike - and
they refer to it as 'a people's Catholicism' (Candelaria, 23).
Far from offering a negative critique, they affirmed popular
religiosity's important social dimension as it assists the poor
to better understand their own plight, and mobilizes them to
seek the social change that will ultimately liberate them
(No. 452). When the bishops at Puebla addressed popular
religiosity, it was the communal dimension that received the
greatest emphasis. In other words, those devotions should
lead people into a faith community, instilling within them an
ever-deeper desire to work for peace and justice, both in one's
local area and, indeed, on the global level as well (Candelaria:
1990, pp. 23-5).
In an interesting study on Latin American Popular
Religiosity and its relationship to the plight of the poor,
Michael Candelaria demonstrates how popular religion gen-
erally stands in opposition to the religion of the establish-
ment by offering a helpful list of differences between those
two realities. According to Candelaria, official religion -
which, of course, includes worship - is a religion of the privi-
leged, of the clergy, of the intellectual elite, and more associ-
ated with the city than the countryside. Moreover, it is
rational and philosophical, systematic and universal. Popular
religion, on the other hand, is the religion of the poor, of the
laity, of the masses. It is local and unsystematic, drawing on
folklore, myth, and cultural traditions. It also relies on local
language rather than a more elevated liturgical language - it
is simple, unlike official religion which is more complex
(Candelaria: 1990, p. 33). As we shall see, these distinctions
obviously apply more to the Latin American situation than
they do to traditional European expressions of religiosity.
 Worship and Popular Religion 151

Nonetheless, they offer a glimpse of some important tensions

between the two groups, which have implications both for
worship and for popular devotions.

The Latin American Contribution

The evolution of Latin American theology in the years fol-
lowing Vatican II - especially Liberation theology - has been
significant to our understanding of popular religion and its
particular relationship to worship. As this school of theology
emerged in the 1960s and 1970s, it coincided with a reap-
praisal of popular religiosity as an avenue toward symbolic
expression of liberation from past oppression. Thus, it served
as a prophetic call for justice and freedom in the present.
Earlier European expressions of popular religion were
markedly different, with greater emphasis on the individual
and special intentions of the practitioner. In such situations,
it was often the clergy who designed and led those devotions
at places such as Fatima and Lourdes. As always, there have
been some notable exceptions.
With the arrival of European immigrants in the United
States, new devotional practices arrived and found a home,
especially in the more ethnic parishes. Those devotions often
served as a prelude or postlude to the Mass. Contact with the
divine came through contact with angels and saints. Novenas
and other devotions provided the medium for such divine
access, and individuals received graces and favours request-
ed. Some religious magazines even published lists of 'favours
obtained', mentioning conversions and cures, employment
found for those without work, and a host of other items. Short
notes in secular newspapers read: 'Thank you, Saint Jude'.
Similar messages can still be found today in secular and even
progressive newspapers such as The Village Voice - published
weekly in Greenwich Village, New York City. While those
devotions were usually made with tremendous good will and
152 Worship

religious zeal, they did little to engage the religious individ-

ual in the wider community of church or society or to assist
the connection between liturgy and life. Not surprisingly,
those who advocated such devotional practices often found
themselves at odds with liturgical pioneers who were advo-
cating corporate prayer over individual piety. Quite simply,
many Roman Catholics - both in Europe and North America
- preferred a novena or rosary with a short sermon to the
new liturgical emphasis on community. The notion that wor-
ship might demand social responsibility was considered an
intrusion into the spiritual life of the individual. For their
part, liturgical pioneers made it their aim to draw their hear-
ers away from rosaries and private devotions into corporate
worship within the mystical body of Christ. This was done
with varying degrees of success.
Interestingly, popular devotions as they emerged in Latin
America after the Second Vatican Council offered a very dif-
ferent picture indeed. Unlike the religious individualism so
characteristic of European popular religion, the Latin
American counterpart was infinitely more communal in
scope with close ties to the land and its inhabitants, ulti-
mately contributing to a new understanding of the Eucharist
itself as an instrument of liberation. The new wave of immi-
grants in the United States - Mexicans, Filipinos, Cubans,
Salvadorans, and countless other nationalities - has brought
with it a unique expression of religiosity, significantly differ-
ent from what arrived with European immigrants in the
early years of the twentieth century. Of course, these new-
comers profess faith in the same Christ as head of the same
Church, they revere the same Virgin Mary, pray to the same
saints, but the cultural expression is radically different.
Unlike forms of religious piety that left believers in their
isolation, passively and uncritically awaiting a better life, this
new form of popular religion shakes its participants into 'full
and active participation' and prophetic action. As celebrants
 Worship and Popular Religion 153

of such pious exercises, they dedicate themselves as God's

instruments in serving the betterment of God's reign on this
earth. In other words, popular religiosity as it is expressed in
Latin America and by Latin Americans who now reside in
London, Birmingham, Paris or New York, empowers its prac-
titioners to seek the kind of societal and structural change
that would make their human lives better. Here, we see a
strong link between spirituality and the plight of the poor
and oppressed in daily life - a striking contrast from engage-
ment in religious practices as a flight from the problems of
daily life. Latino/a religiosity confronts those problems head
on, making pious devotions cathartic experiences of collective
memory. Such religiosity is a far cry from a prayer to Saint
Jude or a novena to the Immaculate Conception. Something
far more radical and substantive is occurring here, which
begs our attention.
Like their European counterparts in Catholic countries
like Italy, Portugal, and Spain, Latin American countries also
reflect a traditional clerical culture in clergy-lay relationships
and in the running of parish churches. Those relationships
are called into question, however, in these emergent forms of
Latino/a religiosity since it is often lay people themselves who
take the lead in organizing and directing the devotions. And
despite the fact that the oppression of women remains a real-
ity in some regions, it is precisely women themselves - moth-
ers and grandmothers - who lead these rituals. In some cases,
the devotions are led by married couples - parents or grand-
parents - as is the case in the Mexican celebration of the lev-
antada that I witnessed several years ago. The levantada cel-
ebrates the 'lifting up' of the Christ child at Epiphany. This
domestic ritual gathers together family members, friends,
and neighbours as the host couple takes on the role of god-
parents (padrinos) cradling the Christ child in one or another's
lap, and then holding the child as participants come forward
on their knees to reverence the child with a kiss. Prior to
154 Worship

concluding the ritual, the host couple offers a short sermon

in which they admonish their hearers to more faithfully follow
Christ in their daily lives. Together, they call the assembly to
leave transformed so as to live differently as a result. This
type of religiosity empowers its participants in a unique way,
offering them a transforming experience that is not always
possible in the more formalized and official structures of the
Church.

Power and Access within Popular Religion

Whether we consider the institutional Church or official wor-
ship, spiritual power has been traditionally communicated
from above - those with sacred power (above) communicate to
those who await empowerment (below). Popular religion
offers a different paradigm, challenging the establishment's
inherent power and offering an alternative system of values,
creating a new model which is at once more inclusive and
more prophetic. An example is in order. Several years ago, I
was scheduled to preside at a Eucharist with a community of
Mexican sisters. As I entered the chapel, I was surprised to
notice that quite a valuable religious painting from the sev-
enteenth century had been blocked with a very large and
inexpensive image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Patroness
of Mexico, which had been placed in front of the older paint-
ing. I seriously doubt that the sisters were attempting to
make any political statement in their action. Nonetheless,
their decision to place a rather insignificant image of
Guadalupe front and centre communicated a tremendous
amount about what they hold important symbolically, despite
the value of the Baroque work of art which they had hidden.
An even more poignant example of Guadalupe's symbolic
significance comes from Chiapas, Mexico, in the unified
response to the massacre of forty-five Tzotzil Indians. The sad
event occurred in December 1997, in the poor mountain village
 Worship and Popular Religion 155

of Chenalho which is located in the remote southern state of

Chiapas, Mexico. Ironically, the killings occurred just as
Chenalho residents were gathered together at the village
church offering prayers for peace. Those Indians supported the
Zapatista National Liberation Army in their desire for libera-
tion from their poverty - more land to farm, equal justice, and
the possibility of greater self-rule. Government forces were
later accused of involvement in the killings. At the Christmas
funeral Mass for the victims the Archbishop, Samuel Ruiz
Garcia, begged his hearers not to seek revenge but rather to
respond as Christ would respond: with gestures of peace.
The Chenalho community chose to respond in a public dis-
play of popular religion - a procession - in which they carried
the cracked statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe that had been
retrieved from their destroyed church. Choosing the theme
of hope rather than mourning, that march was an act of
protest against their oppressors, but it was also something
more: an act of determination to return from exile to their
homes and normal lives. The procession was led by a wooden
cross on which was written: It is time to harvest, it is time
to build.' Some of those who marched carried a single brick
to be used for the construction of a small memorial shrine
wherein the cracked image of Guadalupe would reside; the
victims of the massacre would be memorialized in the shrine.
When interviewed by reporters, they spoke of the bricks as
symbolic of that community's pain and suffering. The sym-
bols here are very rich. Innocent lives had been lost because
of senseless violence, but death was not the final word. This
Mexican expression of popular religion both empowered and
liberated Chenalho residents to find hope in the midst of
great tragedy (Fisher: 1997, A-8).
More recently, the sad events of 11 September 2001 turned
the City of New York into an urban shrine outside the
Episcopal Saint Paul's Chapel in Lower Manhattan as pho-
tos, messages, flowers, relics of the deceased, and candles
156 Worship

covered the fence around the property. Firehouses and police

stations housed their own shrines to fallen colleagues. Those
venues - like the site of 'Ground Zero' itself - became places
of pilgrimage and visitation where individuals and families
came to pray and remember. Of course, there were also
numerous Eucharists and other worship services which
brought consolation to mourners as they struggled to make
sense out of that tragedy, but it was largely the non-liturgical
expressions of spontaneous prayer and devotion which capti-
vated the hearts of thousands.
It is precisely in moments of tragedy and loss, violence and
oppression, where faith serves as an anchor, and praying
together - both in common worship and non-liturgical devo-
tions - lies at the core. Recently, some scholars have begun to
study more precisely the role that ritual and worship plays
within contexts of violence and tragedy, and the response it
offers amidst oppression. In his book Torture and Eucharist
(1998), William Cunningham poses the question in the con-
text of Chile's years of Pinochet dictatorship. Indeed, we
could explore similar questions about the role of worship and
devotions in light of the Spanish oppression during the
Franco regime of the 1930s or its role within Nazism as
countless numbers of Christians met with death in the gas
chambers along with their Jewish neighbours. As we try to
assess worship's role in these sad situations, it does not
appear that it served as a symbol of social transformation. Its
own role as an instrument of liberation is not easily dis-
cerned as we consider the Hutu and Tutsi massacres of
Rwanda, or the ongoing discord in Northern Ireland. This is
not to suggest that there are no notable exceptions, nor that
worship in the midst of oppression (especially in Eucharistic
celebrations) offered no solace and comfort to the victims.
But the fact remains that examples of religion as a means of
empowerment, access, and liberation are more self-evident in
manifestations of popular religion as seen in the Chiapas
 Worship and Popular Religion 157

incident, than in the more official liturgical celebrations

offered by the Church. This may be yet another area where
popular religiosity can assist the liturgy in recovering its full
potential, sending forth members of Christ's body into the
world as instruments of social change.
Popular religion holds quite a unique function for the poor
and dispossessed, victims of violence and oppression, even as
they remain on the fringe of human society. They are empow-
ered and gain access to the divine despite being shunned by
the establishment, not unlike Mary's Magnificat: 'He has
brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up
the lowly' (Luke 1:52). Historically, oppressed ethnic groups
like Latinos and African Americans were never entitled to
shape their own futures but remained 'objects in the histo-
ries of others'. Practitioners of popular religion recognize
their own identity as 'subjects' of their own destinies and are,
in fact, liberated and empowered to unite and take respons-
ibility for their own lives. Whether implicitly or explicitly,
these individuals know that Jesus was poor like they are, and
that Mary knew pain and suffering in her life just as they do
in theirs. Consequently, there is both an intimate and direct
link with the holy using concrete language that is intimate
and tender, unlike the abstract themes or distant images
present within formal liturgical structures.

The Power to Bless

In certain cultures women themselves have rediscovered
their own spiritual role through the rituals and devotions of
popular religion. Some years ago in a visit to the Pacific
Island of Pohnpei, Micronesia, I was surprised to learn that
it is the oldest woman in the village who is given the task of
anointing visitors with coconut oil as a sign of welcome and
acceptance into the life and culture of that people. Even
though this ritual is not particularly Christian, it teaches us
158 Worship

something about collective power within a community, the

role that elders play in that culture, and the power entrust-
ed to them by other members of the group. A similar dynam-
ic can be observed in the role of the elderly within Latino
communities. As grandparents and godparents, these elders
impart a blessing to their newborn grandchildren and god-
children, communicating to the young their own faith and
spiritual wisdom. An interesting fusion of popular religion
and liturgy can be seen in Hispanic celebrations of Baptism,
where grandparents and other elders of the community come
forward to bless the newly baptized before the presider's
blessing, and in the marriage rite, where parents of the newly-
weds join the presider in blessing their children (Francis and
Perez-Rodriguez: 1997, pp. 57, 117). Blessings manifest
power, and these individuals know that the power to bless is
not something limited to the clergy but rather emerges from
the collective holiness of a people. Through baptism, all
Christians are empowered to heal and bless through their
sharing in the priesthood of Christ as members of his mysti-
cal body. Of course, there are different roles and ministries
within that Body, but it is Baptism and not ordination which
becomes the great equalizer.
Within Latino and African-American communities, it is
often women - mothers and grandmothers, aunts and older
sisters - who hold the family together and function as medi-
ators or 'priests' of the household. In many cases, it is the
woman of the house who looks after the spiritual formation
of the children, brings them to church, and instructs them
in the teachings of the faith. In Latino households, it is not
uncommon to find home altars arranged in the kitchen,
where the divine presence is accessed by the mother or
grandmother in the name of the whole family. There she
brings to God and the saints the ups and downs, the joys
and struggles of that family, mediating an immanent pres-
ence of God not normally found in the official cult of the
 Worship and Popular Religion 159

Church. At that altar, women intercede both for the living

and the dead.
In his book, Hispanic Devotional Piety, Gilbert Romero
describes the kitchen as 'sacred space' within the Hispanic
home, thereby becoming the central place of domestic power
around the hearth. As hospitality is a primary symbol of holi-
ness and as the kitchen is the primary locus of hospitality in the
Hispanic household, so the kitchen becomes the privileged
venue of divine presence as it is shared through a meal. Visitors
are first received in the kitchen and offered some food and
drink and only afterwards are they invited, perhaps, into the
parlour or another room of the house (Romero: 1991, pp. 83-4).
By offering their prayers to the saints, God is accessed
informally while avoiding or ignoring official mediation
through a priest or through the Church's official worship.
Much is expected of God and the saints, as is the case in any
human relationship. Thus, when the requested favour is not
granted it is not uncommon to find that the particular stat-
ue is turned around to face the wall as an expression of dis-
pleasure with the divine or saintly response. Practitioners of
those domestic rituals find that the liturgy seldom offers the
same opportunities for such honesty and direct language, so
these domestic 'priests' become their own pastoral agents
and mediators at home even as they continue to be engaged
in the formalized rituals of their churches. It is precisely such
independent expressions of popular religiosity that cause
concern to bishops and local pastors since such devotions
potentially create a parallel church structure which fails to
intersect with official Church teaching.

Conclusion
Thanks to significant research done in Latin America on this
subject, recent years have registered a more positive apprais-
al of popular religion on the part of liturgists. The challenge
160 Worship

remains to find common ground between the two realities -

worship and devotions - so that they function within a prop-
er balance. Post-Vatican II expressions of popular religion
have taught us a great deal about how liturgy functions and
where it is lacking. At the same time, popular religion has
much to learn from Christian worship. If that worship is to
be the 'source and summit of the Christian life', as the
Second Vatican Council's Liturgy Constitution states, then
those devotions are not meant to be ends in themselves but
rather modes of preparation for a fuller participation in the
Church's liturgical life. Thus, each reality needs to instruct
and influence the other.
This mutual influence between liturgy and popular reli-
gion is further accentuated in analysing the role played by
immigrants and others who are marginalized. These indi-
viduals find their voice through a myriad of expressions with-
in popular religion as seen above. Can they also find their
voice in the more formal structures of our established wor-
ship? Put differently: can we who represent the establish-
ment find a way of including the poor and marginalized in
our worship so that they are made to feel more at home?
Indeed, popular religiosity challenges us to rethink our tra-
ditional views of life and religion in the midst of a postmod-
ern world and serves as a corrective to any attempts to
exclude members of Christ's body as it gathers for public
worship. These newcomers are deeply respectful of Church
tradition. They observe traditional practices of baptizing
their children and burying their dead. But the real experi-
ence of God - the real 'church' - happens elsewhere, at
domestic events such as the levantada, or in processions and
on pilgrimages, and as they pray at home altars and shrines.
Both Evangelii nuntiandi and the CELAM document of
Puebla place the subject of popular religion squarely in the
context of culture, reminding the Church that it is precisely
in culture that we locate the point of departure both for the-
 Worship and Popular Religion 161

ology and worship. This is seen clearly in popular devotions,

but it is equally true about worship. All worship must be con-
textualized and inculturated if it is to be a living reality. To
live is to change and adapt to the surroundings and circum-
stances. Failure to change means death. In the next chapter
we shall explore the relationship between Christian worship
and life in the wider human society.
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 7
Worship and Society
Introduction

In his classic work Liturgy and Society: The Function of the

Church in the Modern World, Anglican liturgical pioneer A.
Gabriel Hebert SSM (+1963) wrote:
'To worship God in church is not a substitute for the service
of God in daily life: rather, it is that which makes the service of
God possible by bringing the things of daily life into the light
of eternity. And as the Christian redemption is not merely
individual but social, so the normal type of Christian worship
is not the individual's meditation, but the common worship
of the Body, when the members are met together to learn the
meaning of the common life which is in Him' (Hebert: 1935,
p. 160).
As we have already seen through the lens of history, there
was an intrinsic link between worship and life, worship and
human community, from the foundations of Christianity.
Jesus came preaching the reign of God - a reign of justice and
peace - and liturgy was to embody that vision of God's reign
most profoundly. We speak of the 'already' and the 'not yet' as
a means of articulating that foretaste of heaven which we
experience in worship even as we await the fulfillment of that
heavenly vision. Thus, as we gather together in Christian
assembly, we play out this heavenly vision through our sym-
bolic interaction, our words and gestures, the way we treat
one another in the assembly, and the way we stand united in
solidarity with those who suffer throughout the world. These
Christian values are embodied in our rituals. Put simply, how
we worship is intimately linked to how we live.
Theologically, this embodiment has been explained with
the axiom lex orandi, lex credendi - 'the law of worship estab-
164 Worship

lishes the law of belief. In other words, the Church express-

es what it believes through its worship even before those
beliefs are studied or analysed. Before Prosper of Aquitaine
(+463) coined that axiom in the fifth century it was already
being lived out in Christian worship. We see this in the fourth
century as adult candidates were prepared to be initiated into
the Church through Baptism, Confirmation (Chrismation)
and Eucharist. It was only after experiencing their initiation
in all its symbolic richness that the bishop explained to the
newly baptized what had, in fact, happened to them. This is
not to suggest that they had not been catechized prior to
their baptism and schooled in the Christian community's
ethical behavior. On the contrary, many had engaged in a
catechumenate of several years. But the full explanation of
what it meant to be immersed in the baptismal pool, anoint-
ed with oil and fed at Christ's banquet table came later in a
period called 'mystagogy'. We speak about worship that
embodies what the Church believes and teaches - how we
understand God and Christ's mission in the Spirit. But that
embodiment includes what God's reign of justice and peace is
about and calls the Church to a more intentional commit-
ment aimed at stronger ties between worship and human
society. Recently, some liturgical scholars have added lex
agendi or lex vivendi to the axiom mentioned above, address-
ing what needs to be done as the Church lives out its worship
in daily life.
Indeed, our common worship is a great teacher; it is there
that we learn about how to be in relationship with God and
with one another - both locally and universally. We learn
about the demands that our liturgical participation places
upon us and the vocation to become the body of Christ in and
for the world. Unlike pagan communities and their ritual cel-
ebrations, which placed great emphasis on social status and
distinctions among the different classes, ages, and sexes, early
Christian communities ignored such divisions, by and large.
 Worship and Society 165

Women, children and slaves were all welcome to participate

in the same worship unless they had been excluded because
of some public sin or penance. Pope Callistus (+222) defend-
ed the right of ex-slaves to serve in the highest offices of the
Church and of the freedom of women to marry slaves. The
evidence suggests that early Christian communities were far
more successful than their pagan counterparts in producing
and maintaining a healthy integration between the Church's
social and communal life and its worship. As with other areas
of cultural borrowing, pagan feasts of the dead were reinter-
preted as memorial meals (refregerium feasts) remembering
deceased Christians and martyrs. And consistent with the
Church's normal way of proceeding, the poor were invited to
such banquets (Meyer: 1974, pp. 38-40).
It is in this context that we can understand Paul's fury at
the divisions between rich and poor that had arisen within
the Corinthian community, even as they ostensibly professed
membership in the same group. Apparently, wealthier mem-
bers of that church excluded those from a lower socio-economic
class from the communal meal (or perhaps offered them an
inferior menu) and only included them for the actual
Eucharist, which was appended. He addressed the hypocrisy
of their worship squarely:
1 do not commend you, because when you come together
it is not for the better but for the worse. For, to begin with,
when you come together as a church, I hear that there are
divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it. Indeed,
there have to be factions among you, for only so will it
become clear who among you is genuine. When you come
together, it is not really to eat the Lord's Supper. For when
the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own
supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk.
What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you
show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those
who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I com-
166 Worship

mend you? In this matter I do not commend you' (1 Corin-

thians 11:17-22).
As far as Paul was concerned, it was not the Eucharist they
were celebrating in such situations. Rather, they were eating
and drinking their own condemnation by their injustice
towards the poorer members of that same body of Christ.
Looking after the less fortunate members of the commu-
nity was as important as the liturgical participation itself,
indeed it was inseparable from it. This meant that Christians
who were ill or persecuted, or who had simply exhausted
their finances for whatever reason could rely on the fact that
they would never go hungry, nor would they be homeless.
Christians who happened to be travelling were guaranteed
the same sort of treatment, even if they had never met their
hosts before. Significantly, it was the same individual who
presided over the Church's worship who likewise was
charged with overseeing the distribution of the community's
material resources for the needy. Deacons and deaconesses
played an important role in this ministry of social outreach.
The very terms that the Church adopted for liturgical pur-
poses bear witness to this social reality. Terms such as lei-
tourgia, diakonia, offerre, oblatio, eulogia were originally
used for particular social concerns, but later employed for
cultic purposes as well. This was also why the early
Christians found it impossible to conceive of their own sacri-
fice as separate from the sacrifice of Jesus Christ; it was one
and the same mystery. Pagan worship, in contrast, failed to
exhibit a similar depth of social commitment. This explains,
at least in part, why some pagans found Christianity an
attractive alternative to the spiritual path they had been
following. The whole concept of public penance evolved
precisely as a communal response to the gradual breakdown
between ethical living and ethical worship concomitant with
Church persecutions and growth in numbers (Meyer: 1974,
p. 41).
 Worship and Society 167

The fourth-century homilies of Augustine were especially

strong in criticizing those who lived a marked division
between their lives at public worship and their conduct out-
side of church. For Augustine, the living of such a double-life
was considered blasphemy. This relationship between wor-
ship and society grew especially after Christianity's libera-
tion with the Peace of Constantine (313) and the Christening
of the Roman Empire. Affirming this reality, the late
Austrian Jesuit liturgist Hans Bernard Meyer remarked: It
is impossible to underestimate the role of the liturgy in this
process, particularly when it is remembered that it was not
until the Middle Ages that Christian schools appeared on any
scale.' One need only mention the law of 321, which decreed
that Sunday was to be a day of rest for the whole Empire and
no one should work. Christian worship, moreover, gave
meaning and context to important events within society, and
had influence on all segments of life - sacred and secular. The
system of the Stational Liturgy (fifth to eighth centuries) in
cities such as Rome, Constantinople and Jerusalem bears
marvellous witness to this fusion of sacred and secular, as
those cities were transformed into sacred spaces on days of
Christian festival. Of course, freedom from work for many on
those days facilitated greater participation as urban commu-
nities joined their bishop both in the street processions and
the Eucharist (Meyer: 1974, p. 43).
Gradually, bishops were aligned with the authorities of the
Empire and, in fact, became political authorities themselves.
Logically, the Church and its worship gained power within
the society and the kind of societal distinctions which had
been refused in the early Church found a home within new
structures of episcopal leadership. Bishops were bestowed
with the rank and privileges of secular political officials and
that ancient call to gospel simplicity and service, along with
the rejection of power and prestige as seen in Jesus' own
example, seemed ever more distant. As is clear from
168 Worship

Charlemagne's leadership in the eighth century, liturgical

questions were as much political issues as were other factors
in the governance of the Empire. Thus, as the Church and its
worship became less and less counter-cultural in the Middle
Ages, the passion for justice and ethical worship waned; its
call would not be heard again until the Reformation. This is
not to suggest that care for the needy was not a Church con-
cern in the medieval period. Reference has already been
made to the presence of guilds and societies, confraternities
and lay congregations who were devoted to care of the poor,
the sick, and the dying. The point here is that the link
between worship and justice, worship and daily life, had been
lost with an imperial liturgy that had become the sole prop-
erty of the clergy.
With the advent of the Reformation, that ancient call to
integrated worship again came to the fore. Steeped in the
Augustinian tradition, Martin Luther was forceful in calling
the sixteenth-century Church to a rediscovery of worship's
social demands and its intimate link with the rest of life. On
more than one occasion in his preaching, he remarked that it
was far easier to encounter Christ within the church build-
ing (or more specifically within the tabernacle) than it was to
recognize his presence in towns and cities as he cried out for
food and shelter. Luther's Christmas sermons were strong in
this regard as he exhorted his hearers to feed and clothe the
Christ child who awaited their succour in the streets. But
worship's link to the plight of human society filtered into
other areas of his writing as well. Writing on the Blessed
Sacrament, he was particularly eloquent on the intrinsic
nature of this relationship:
'Here your heart must go out in love and learn that this is
a sacrament of love. As love and support are given to you, you
must in turn render love and support to Christ in his needy
ones. You must feel with sorrow all the dishonour done to
Christ in his holy Word, all the misery of Christendom, all the
 Worship and Society 169

unjust suffering of the innocent, with which the world is

everywhere filled to overflowing. You must fight, work, pray,
and - if you cannot do more - have heartfelt sympathy'
(Luther in Leupold, (ed.): 1965).
Perhaps it is human nature that causes us to want to sep-
arate these two worlds - our spiritual selves from the gritty
world of daily life, or perhaps we are at times paralyzed by
what would actually happen to us if we took the Gospel mes-
sage to heart in all its fullness. In his lectures on the
Eucharist at the University of Notre Dame, Franciscan litur-
gist Regis Duffy asked his students repeatedly: 'Despite our
liturgical participation week after week, Sunday after
Sunday, can we honestly say that we find ourselves longing
more for God's reign this week than last week, more this year
than last year?' We speak of the Eucharist as transformative
of human society, and the concomitant goal of Christian wor-
ship to shape moral formation, so that we actually live dif-
ferently because of our liturgical participation. That is the
ideal, of course, but the task is easier said than done.
Over the years, some have used this dichotomy between
worship and life as a reason for absenting themselves from
the Sunday assembly. One rather colourful Jesuit recounts
the story of a flight he took to a meeting during his tenure as
provincial. He was travelling in his clerical collar, which
prompted his neighbour to initiate a conversation. 'Are you a
Catholic priest?' 'As a matter of fact, I am,' the Jesuit
responded. The young man received the response he wanted
and proceeded to vent his displeasure with organized religion:
'Well I never go to Church. I don't believe in Church because
it's full of hypocrites - going to Mass every Sunday and then
living just the opposite during the week.' Much to the shock
of his neighbour, the Jesuit responded: 'You are exactly right!
The Church is absolutely full of hypocrites. In fact, you're sit-
ting next to one on this flight. I need to be there every Sunday
so that I can meet the other hypocrites because all of us are
170 Worship

forever saying one thing and doing another. We just never

seem to get it right, much as we try!' That was the end of the
conversation. The challenge, of course, remains to live differ-
ently because of the worship we celebrate, to be led from the
sermon and even from the ritual action itself to do deeds of
justice - to become Christ's body in this world as St Augustine
of Hippo and later Martin Luther would have us do. Or in the
words of the prophet Micah: 'to do justice, and to love kind-
ness, and to walk humbly with your God' (Micah 6:8). Those
are the desires that Christian worship should stimulate with-
in its practitioners, but we know all too well that we are not
always disposed to the inner transformation to which the
liturgy calls us.

Social Worship in the Mystical Body of Christ

The work of theologians of the Tubingen School of the nine-
teenth century and the liturgical movement of the twentieth
recovered the corporate nature of Christian worship gath-
ered together as Christ's mystical body. Since most of that
research existed almost exclusively in German, however, it
was little known in other parts of the world until liturgical
pioneers adopted it as the theological anchor for the litur-
gical movement. Indeed, its strong emphasis on the comm-
unity united organically through a common baptism made it
a natural fit for liturgical renewal. Furthermore, that organ-
ic unity would presuppose an intimate link between worship
and justice. But it was precisely the inherent egalitarianism
implied within such a theological construct which led some to
accuse its proponents - liturgical pioneers and theologians
alike - of tampering with the Church's hierarchical struc-
ture. Responding to the criticism, Virgil Michel and others
soon appended the phrase 'albeit hierarchically structured'
when they spoke of the Church as a unified body.
Lambert Beauduin, Founder of the Liturgical Movement
 Worship and Society 171

in Belgium in 1909, embodied that very organic relationship

between worship and justice that the liturgical movement
promoted. He had been a labour chaplain prior to becoming
a Benedictine monk, bringing a strong social consciousness to
his liturgical mission. His disciple Virgil Michel was infused
with that same spirit when he studied with Beauduin in
Rome, and made that theme central when he founded the
liturgical movement in the United States (1925). He wrote:
'Membership in the Church is not confined to the mini-
mum discharging of a debt, but implies an active participa-
tion in the life of the Church. To be a member of the mystic
body of Christ means always to be a living member, and to
cooperate actively in the life of the whole. To nothing less
than that is the true son of the Church called' (Michel: 1930,
p. 140).
In another work, The Mystical Body and Social Justice
(1938), and in other writings, Michel challenged capitalism
from the perspective of worship, defended farmers and advo-
cated a return to the simplicity of rural life. Moreover, he col-
laborated with Dorothy Day, foundress of the Catholic
Worker Movement, in supporting workers during the Great
Depression of the 1930s. He even convinced the Baroness
Catherine De Hueck Doherty not to close her storefront
branch of 'Friendship House' in Toronto, aimed at helping
the poor and homeless. When more conservative Catholics in
the U.S. criticized Catholic workers and other social activists,
calling them 'Communists', it was Michel who defended
them in the pages of his liturgical journal Orate Fratres, chal-
lenging racism and injustice in all its forms. For their part,
social activists joined that Benedictine pioneer as partners in
the enterprise of liturgical renewal.
In the United Kingdom, that social vision of worship was
promoted through the Parish Communion and Parish and
People Movements, and through several significant works
written by Anglicans and published in the 1930s. Arthur
172 Worship

Gabriel Hebert's work (cited above) was originally published

in 1935 and was foundational in promoting the link between
liturgy and social justice within the Church of England. In .

1937, Evelyn Underbill (+1941), an Anglican laywoman, made

her own contribution when she wrote Worship. Hebert's
work in particular uncovered liturgy's symbolic power to
challenge the status quo within human society and to embody
a more just and inclusive social order. Such worship stood
prophetically apart from the normal way of doing business
in daily life. Hebert had been influenced by the strong social
principles of the Parish Communion Movement. Thus, in
addressing the Church's role within the modern world (an
important topic treated by Roman Catholics later at the
Second Vatican Council) he posited the social argument
within the context of worship. For it was precisely in the
Church's liturgical life that the personal dimensions of faith
were integrated. The Church's corporate spirituality thereby
served as a catalyst for the regeneration of human society
(see Gray: 1986).
Like other members of the Parish Communion Movement,
Hebert and Underbill were, indeed, ahead of their time in
advocating worship's social dimension and promoting
Sunday worship that flowed out to service of others. To some
degree, adherents of social worship were voices crying out in
the wilderness. Regardless of one's denomination, Christian
ritual in that period remained in that 'other' world as believ-
ers were led from the mundane of daily life into holy bliss.
Stained glass windows served as effective instruments in
closing out the world for as long as worshippers were in the
church precincts. And each Sunday morning for an hour or
so, those participants in worship could flee their cares and
responsibilities and worship God in tranquility and peace.
This is evidenced in numerous 'Letters to the Editor' which
were published in the pages of Orate Fratres and other
Catholic journals at the time, exhibiting a desire to maintain
 Worship and Society 173

the status quo with comments such as 'God bless the priests
who say Mass quickly!' Indeed, many continued to view
Sunday worship as an individualistic experience and were
quite content to have it remain that way. For their part, A. G.
Hebert and Evelyn Underbill viewed their worship and their
world differently. Consistent with the theology of the mysti-
cal body, Underbill placed the individual worshipper in rela-
tion to the larger body:
' .. .the personal relation to God of the individual - his inner
life - is guaranteed and kept in health by his social relation to
the organism, the spiritual society, the Church. What is best for
the All, as Plato says, turns out best for him too. It checks reli-
gious egoism, breaks down devotional barriers, obliges the spir-
itual highbrow to join in the worship of the simple and ignorant.
Therefore, corporate and personal worship ... should complete,
reinforce, and check each other' (Underbill: 1989, p. 84).
In the United States, the Associated Parishes Movement of
the Episcopal Church (founded in 1947) registered similar
concerns for justice-oriented worship linked to the plight of
human society as it promoted liturgical renewal. Both the
Episcopal and Roman Catholic liturgical movements in the
USA gave significant attention to the topic of worship and
society in their writings, and it was a primary theme in their
annual meetings. Articles such as Virgil Michel's 'Liturgy as
the Basis of Social Regeneration' (1935) were common, both
in the U.S. and the U.K. When Evelyn Underbill published
Worship in 1937, it was again liturgy's corporate or social
nature which was foundational for her thesis about the role
of worship in daily life.
More recently, John Egan (+2001) and Robert Hovda
(+1992) called the United States Church to an examination
of its own conscience in this area. In their many years of
ministry, both were tireless advocates of socially-oriented
worship that might both symbolize and demand the further
embodiment of God's justice. Looking back over the collabo-
174 Worship

ration of U.S. social activists and liturgical pioneers, Egan

remarked:
'Michel and his followers spoke of the liturgy as a school of
social justice. This did not mean simply that preachers spoke
on social problems. Here the liturgy is once again crucial. In
the liturgy, properly celebrated, divisions along lines of sex,
age, race or wealth are overcome. In the liturgy, properly
celebrated, we discover the sacramentality of the material
universe. In the liturgy, properly celebrated, we learn the cer-
emonies of respect both for one another and for the creation,
that allow us to see in people and in material goods, "fruit of
the earth and the work of human hands," sacraments of that
new order which we call the justice of the kingdom of God'
(Egan: 1983, pp. 410-11).
Egan proceeded to challenge the divorce between the spir-
itual and the secular, between worship and the rest of life, by
a pastoral care embodied liturgically which took into account
the whole person:
'What the best of the social activists taught us was what
the best of the pastoral liturgists practiced: that the primary
object of our concern must be the whole person, the person
considered not merely as a statistical victim of systematic
injustice or even as merely a subject of the Church's sacra-
ments; but the person in their whole existence, with a per-
sonal history and a world of relationships all their own.'
(Egan: 1983, p. 411)
Today, some twenty years after Egan's reflections, the sit-
uation does not appear to be much improved. One of the con-
sequences of the postmodern era is an increased sense of
alienation, especially in urban centres, and an ever-greater
divide between the 'haves' and the 'have nots'. It is an unfor-
tunate reality that in cities like New York the middle class is
rapidly vanishing. Obviously, our worship communities are
not immune to such cultural and societal divisions.
Like Egan, Robert Hodva was a strong critic of rugged
 Worship and Society 175

individualism and recognized the damaging effects of the

capitalist system upon communal worship. An avowed
Socialist, he entitled one of his regular columns in the pages
of Worship: Individualists are Incapable of Worship'. Hovda
(1991) wrote:
'We can't afford to ignore the patent fact that the most
threatening "liturgical problem" we face is not in the liturgy
but rather in our privitization of everything, in our country's
and our culture's individualism-run-riot. The awesomely cor-
porate act of public worship assumes, requires, demands a
celebrating assembly of believing persons who have not lost
the sense of being part of humanity, the sense of relation to,
interdependence with, even identification with every other
human being - as consequences of the love of God. People
who approach that act, who gather on Sunday as self-contained
units, individuals for whom all others are merely competitors
or marks, are simply incapable of it.'
The critique offered by Egan and Hovda remains one of the
greatest challenges facing pastoral ministers and liturgists at
work in the twenty-first century: how to form individuals into
a community of faith. Of course, it is God's Spirit who builds
the community and forms unity out of Babel's disunity, but it
is the task of Church leaders to be vital instruments in that
process. Therein lies the problem because the cultural tide
increasingly flows in the opposite direction - away from com-
munity and inter-dependence, especially in large cities.

New Challenges to Social Worship in the Twenty-

First Century
Looking back to the Oxford and Parish Communion Move-
ments for guidance, Donald Gray laments the social problems
produced by global urbanization and the logical consequences
for religious corporate identity. He writes: 'The temptation
for many churches has been to retreat into the more com-
176 Worship

fortable and rewarding pastures of suburbia leaving, at the

best, only a rump in the forbidding and unresponsive urban
deserts.' Gray then lists the host of new social problems,
thanks to industrial society:'... anonymous housing estates,
high-rise tenement buildings, together with urban depriva-
tion of all kinds have created an underclass of multi-deprived
urban dwellers in cities all over the world, East and West'.
The solution will be a pastoral/liturgical strategy that is fun-
damentally incarnational in scope where Christ's Body, the
Church, takes upon itself the plight of human society (Gray:
2003, pp. 166-7).
This retreating to the suburbs to which Gray refers has
resulted in a serious decline in the vitality of many urban
parishes. Furthermore, it is increasingly true that in many
places Christians (including Roman Catholics) are 'shopping
around' for the right parish where they can be at home; the
territorial parish as we knew it prior to the Second Vatican
Council is evaporating. (This shall be discussed in the next
chapter.) As urban neighbourhoods continue to change,
many large dioceses centred around cities like San Francisco,
Toronto, Paris, London, and Rome report more engaged
liturgical participation either in the periphery of the city cen-
tre or in the suburbs themselves. Thus, increasing numbers
of inner-city parishes appear to be moribund. Attempts to
foster community or create some semblance of corporate
identity is not without its challenges as large worship spaces
built for several hundred congregants (or more) now house
only a handful of participants who are scattered throughout
the nave. As always, there are vibrant urban exceptions, but
in the main, the problem of shrinking inner-city congrega-
tions is getting worse rather than better. And no signs are in
evidence that the situation will improve in the future. This
has serious implications for the upbuilding of that local com-
munity and its worship. The closing of urban churches in
recent years demonstrates this problem most acutely. In
 Worship and Society 177

many cases, at least in North America, those churches were

built by immigrants who settled in that particular neigh-
bourhood with strong family ties to those sacred buildings.
Those same churches often stood as symbols of ethnic iden-
tity and held the family together in good times and in bad.
But as older Catholic generations die off and are not
replaced, and as the clergy shortage is an ever-greater reali-
ty, maintaining those parishes as active worshipping commu-
nities cannot be sustained. Meanwhile, in suburbia, new
churches are regularly being constructed to accommodate
the population growth.
Even where the congregations are flourishing and solvent
- whether in the cities or suburbs - there is an emerging phe-
nomenon which is unprecedented in our history. In a book
written several years ago, The Corrosion of Character: The
Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism
(1998), sociologist Richard Sennett writes of a problem which
is eroding family and societal bonds with major implications
for parish life and worship. He speaks of a crisis of commit-
ment due in large part to a phenomenon which he calls 'no
long term' - a by-product of the New Capitalism. In such a
context, instability is presented as normal. As young profes-
sionals are forced to uproot and move their families in order
to remain gainfully employed, self-identity, personal security,
and strong communal bonds are threatened. The traditional
sense of the neighbourhood where the family was known
gives way to more transitional living situations where the
individual or family may or may not know the neighbours.
Such work-related moves can mean perhaps three or four dif-
ferent schools for the children over a period of eight years.
This brings obvious consequences for making friends and
sustaining relationships. Furthermore, there can be an
underlying sense that it is not worth investing oneself or
one's family in the neighbours or the neighbourhood, school
system or parish, since in eighteen months or two years that
178 Worship

household will be uprooted yet again. Thus, a relative (albeit

friendly) anonymity rather than familiarity becomes norma-
tive with potential feelings of isolation or alienation. The
implications for parish commitment and worship are many.
Sennett traces this new cultural problem to seventeenth-
century Protestant asceticism, followed by the eighteenth-
century practice of Capitalism that emphasized the routine as
normative, saving rather than spending, and the fear of pleas-
ure. The New Capitalism presents change and an itinerant
lifestyle as normative. Of course, change is nothing new.
Indeed, due to wars and famine, economic recessions and so
forth, change came to be expected. The difference now is that
change is not seen so much as inevitable but as a goal - change
for the sake of change. Today, businesses are constantly re-
defining their structures even when their systems are func-
tioning well. In suburbia, home dwellers demolish perfectly
fine houses in order to design and build new ones. Moreover,
the number of bank mergers in recent years, for example, has
been astounding. Increasing numbers of corporations are
engaged in a process of 'down-sizing' as they attempt to get
more services with less experienced staff and therefore less
expenditure. In other words, senior staff- those with the most
wisdom and experience - are retired so that a younger crew
can be hired at a lower price. Even more drastically, techno-
logical advances are finding new and creative ways of replac-
ing human beings in their jobs at an alarming rate. More and
more frequently, telephone operators, toll collectors at bridges
and tunnels, airport check-in staff and bank tellers are being
replaced by machines. Aside from what this means economi-
cally for large numbers of individuals who are left unem-
ployed, it also has consequences for human interaction and
community. Anyone who has ever tried to reach an office or
individual, especially in an emergency, and had to navigate the
extensive recorded menu or dialling options only to be con-
nected to an answering device, grasps this problem all too well.
 Worship and Society 179

As we analyse this new sociological reality we can observe

two conflicting cultures at odds with one another: a stable
and faithful culture of communion, interdependence, and
shared vision; and the culture of normative instability, super-
ficiality, and independence. The challenges to a more inten-
tional liturgical commitment are manifold. Although the
New Capitalism does bring with it a desire for community,
that desire is often impeded by a lack of trust, a fear of out-
siders and a fierce self-reliance that disdains dependence on
others. Christian worship, conversely, is precisely about trust
(both in God and the community), about welcoming 'out-
siders' so that they become 'insiders', and about giving of
ourselves and giving up our personal preferences for the sake
of the community. This is not to suggest that members of the
liturgical assembly become homogenized so that they lose
their freedom and diversity. Rather, as Evelyn Underbill
reminds us, the goal of Christian worship is precisely to draw
individuals into community for God's praise and glory, so
that we act liturgically as one body, subordinating those
things which smack of individualism and that pale in com-
parison with God's reign.
In the concrete, this means that social worship leaves little
room for concerns about 'what I get out of it' or 'what's in it
for me', so typical of consumer society. Those consumerist
tendencies emphasize quantity over quality, seducing us into
settling for the least common denominator when it comes to
worship. Our twenty-first century culture, for example, val-
ues time-management and endeavours to accomplish tasks
in the shortest time possible. Christian worship deals with
God's time and is not controlled by the clock. But we are all
products of the cultural milieu. Ironically, when Christian
worship is celebrated in a 'no frills' minimalist style on the
Lord's Day, it actually plays into the hands of a consumer cul-
ture it would normally choose to stand against. Worship itself
is not practical. Indeed, we could say that it is 'useless' as far
180 Worship

as the culture is concerned as it produces no marketable

product, no immediate tangible results. As such, the full
employment of our liturgical symbols and diversity of litur-
gical ministries stand as a radical and prophetic witness to
God's justice and what we long for in God's world. Put dif-
ferently, we could speak of liturgical art and liturgical sym-
bols as matters of justice in that they stand apart from what
the world values, offering us a privileged glimpse of God's
reign on this earth.
In their 1986 Pastoral Letter Economic Justice For All:
Catholic Social Teaching and the U.S. Economy, the Roman
Catholic bishops of the United States addressed the impor-
tance of recovering that vision of God's reign through com-
mitted social worship that leads to the betterment of human
society. They wrote in Number 329:
'Worship and common prayers are the wellsprings that
give life to any reflection on common economic problems and
that continually call the participants to greater fidelity to dis-
cipleship. To worship and pray to the God of the universe is
to acknowledge that the healing love of God extends to all
persons and to every part of existence, including work,
leisure, money, economic and political power and their use,
and to all those practical policies that either lead to justice or
impede it. Therefore, when Christians come together in
prayer, they make a commitment to carry God's love into all
these areas of life' (Origins 16:24: National Conference of
Catholic Bishops, Washington, 27 November 1986).

Worship as the 'Liturgy of the World'

The United States' bishops' statement would fit very well
into the framework of what one theologian called the Liturgy
of the World. Indeed, despite those cultural pressures that
tend to push in the opposite direction, worship must never
remain where it is comfortable. Rather, it needs to continu-
 Worship and Society 181

ally push outward empowering worshippers to become

instruments of restoration in the healing of society's broken-
ness and despair. Not long before the U.S. bishops' pastoral,
the Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner (+1984) developed his
own theology of worship in terms of the 'Liturgy of the World'
mentioned above. Rahner was one of the greatest theologians
of the twentieth century. Yet despite his extraordinarily sci-
entific and rather abstract mind, what underpinned his the-
ological inquiry was a fundamental passion and concern for
people, especially those who found it difficult to believe or
claimed their own religious identities outside the Church. In
other words, he endeavoured to make Christian religious
experience credible for the modern world, capable of address-
ing societal problems in all their complexity.
Rahner's reflections on Christian worship exhibit the
same preoccupations that we find present in other areas of
his theological inquiry. In speaking of the Liturgy of the
World, he seeks to assist those who are suspicious of organ-
ized ritual and are quick to write it off as outdated or irrele-
vant to the ordinary concerns of daily life. Thus, he tries to
bridge the gap between the ritual of daily life - those encoun-
ters with the divine grace in ordinary circumstances - and
the ritual of Christian worship. Rahner does not deny those
experiences of grace in normal life, but suggests that worship
offers us the proper venue to celebrate and remember all
those encounters with God's grace in our past and, indeed,
present lives (Skelley: 1992, pp. 16-19). For Rahner, the liturgy
of the Church richly and dynamically expresses the liturgy of
the world. It celebrates the holiness within secular life and
society and proclaims our world graced and blessed, even in
the face of injustice and suffering. Commenting on Rahner's
insistence on the importance of corporate worship, Michael
Skelley writes: 'It is not the only way in which our commun-
ion with God can be explicitly expressed. But without the
liturgy of the Church, we would not be able to grasp fully the
182 Worship

height and the depth, the length and breadth, of the liturgy
of the world' (Skelley: 1992, 94-5).
Rahner's theology of worship with its inherent sacramen-
tality of daily life lends itself to worship's call to be in dialogue
with the world. In other words, contrary to being something
irrelevant or superfluous, authentic Christian worship leads
into solidarity with the rest of the human family. This
includes those who follow a different spiritual path from our
own or are not believers at all. In such contexts, the worship
of daily life finds a home in the Church's worship and the
hopes and dreams, the struggles and pain of the world
become our own. Implied here is the relationship between
worship and ecology, and reverence for the environment as
God's gift to us which brings with it certain responsibilities:
to care for it and cultivate it as servants of God's creation.
Indeed, within the liturgical assembly, the mystic body of
Christ gathered together is called to use the goods of the
earth for the benefit of the whole human family and not just
for a privileged few.
As a contexualized experience, this vision of God's reign of
justice and solidarity is first and foremost experienced locally.
This is especially poignant within the Eucharistic context. In
that liturgical assembly, people from many different walks of
life dwell together in harmony. Traits of the earth and the
work of human hands' are offered for the good of the com-
munity and there is enough food and drink so that all have
their fill and no one goes hungry. Human emotions of hope
and fear are expressed in the prayers and ritual action with
foundational hope as the leitmotif. Such worship offers heal-
ing and restoration for those who are troubled or distressed.
In those liturgical experiences, the worshippers themselves
are transformed into one body, full of meaning and purpose.
Lutheran theologian Gordon Lathrop frames it thus: The litur-
gy is a social event and its order proposes a vision of ordered
society within a larger ordered world' (Lathrop: 1993, p. 207).
 Worship and Society 183

Therefore, when that local church gathers, the Christian

tradition teaches that the entire world Church is present in
all its fullness. That fullness includes the presence of the
whole communion of saints and all those who have gone
before us in faith. This universality is what makes the Church
'Catholic'. Thus, attending to the vision of God's reign and
taking its worship seriously, the liturgical assembly will nec-
essarily look beyond itself and beyond the confines of that
particular place. With Jesus Christ at the centre of our litur-
gical experience, new interpretations of the 'centre' of
human society will also be necessary. If we take Jesus' own
earthly ministry as a cue, then those who were closest to
Jesus become the centre of our worship, as well. This means
that for Christian worship, paradoxically, it is the periphery
- the margins - that becomes the centre, the place of pil-
grimage, for there the cross of Christ is encountered most
acutely. In other words, it is the poor and the powerless, the
abused and injured, the despondent and the useless who
become icons within Christian worship, for it is there that
Jesus' preferential option and our mission are discovered
most profoundly. Put differently, while we recognize holiness
in the holy gifts set before us on the altar table and in the
holy assembly convoked by God, Christian worship also
embraces that holiness of God revealed on the fringe of
human society. This is obviously quite significant as we con-
sider worship's relationship to the wider human community,
and gives an even greater urgency to the demands of justice
which Christian worship requires (Lathrop: 1993, pp. 208-9).
Reynold Hillenbrand made that point abundantly clear in an
address entitled The Spirit of Sacrifice in Christian Society'
which he delivered some sixty years ago at a national
Liturgical Week in the United States held in 1943:
'The mystical body provides the compelling reason, the
driving force to set things right. The Body is one, a living
Whole. What one group suffers, all suffer - whether that be
184 Worship

the politically enslaved in the South Seas, the economically

exploited in Bolivia, the starving in China, the racially disen-
franchised at home. We must see Christ in all His members,
and at the same time remember all men are destined to be
His members. We must have a deep, intimate, loving convic-
tion of it. And we will acquire that conviction at Mass, where
we are one at Sacrifice!' (Hillenbrand: 1944, p. 106).
Recently, the New York Times published an article by Kofi
Annan, the Secretary General of the United Nations, who
wrote of the alarming growth of AIDS in Africa, especially
among women. In 2002 alone, AIDS took the lives of almost
2.5 million Africans. Overall, the epidemic has left more than
11 million African children orphaned. He notes 58 per cent of
those now living with HIV/AIDS in Africa are women. And as
if the situation were not bad enough, more than 30 million
Africans are at risk of starvation, especially in southern
Africa and the Horn of Africa (Annan: 2002, p. 9). While such
statistics have significant implications for Christian worship
on the African continent, they also necessarily impact wor-
ship throughout the entire world Church. Indeed, the suffer-
ing of Africa must influence our worship, for when one mem-
ber of the body suffers, the whole body suffers. This was
expressed very well some years ago when the theme of a
Sunday Sermon was posted on the church's board outside
the building: The Body of Christ has AIDS'.
How can Christians in western Europe or North America
unite themselves in solidarity with such suffering that is hap-
pening thousands of miles away from where this community
is gathered together for prayer? Methodist liturgical theolo-
gian Don Saliers speaks of intercessory prayer as 'remem-
bering the world to God'. For indeed, naming the social ills of
our time and begging God's mercy is an essential component
of Christian worship and our responsibility, both individually
and communally. Saliers speaks of it as a 'fundamental
vocation of the Church', and the liturgical act of intercessory
 Worship and Society 185

prayer as a 'school for compassion' (Sailers: 1994, pp. 126-7).

Compassion literally means 'to suffer with', thus our inter-
ceding liturgically on behalf of those who suffer offers one
tangible way of being in solidarity. As co-heirs in the same
human family we are intimately linked, even though we live
so far removed from one another and have never met. Unlike
our contemporary culture that would find such a connection
absurd at best, the vision of God's world professed in
Christian worship presumes this kind of compassion. Saliers
is quick to note that such co-suffering is not a pious exercise
in pitying those less fortunate, but rather involves engaging
dynamically in the paschal mystery of dying and rising with
Christ. We may not be able to do much about a devastating
flood in India, or the endless violence in Palestine and Israel,
but at the very least we can unite with those who suffer in
prayers of lament and intercession. If nothing else, we can
'have heartfelt sympathy', as Martin Luther remarked.
While some communities will be able to do nothing more
than to intercede both in personal prayer and in common
worship, other communities will be able to offer more tang-
ible signs of Christian solidarity with material help. I am
aware of some Anglican parishes, for example, which are now
twinned with sister parishes in Africa. Every Sunday, the
African parish and its needs are named in the intercessory
'Prayers of the People'. Church leaders and some church
members have visited the parish's African twin on several
occasions, bringing money, books, and clothing. Recently, one
South African parish twinned with the Episcopal Church of
St Luke in the Fields in New York City reciprocated, sending
its own delegation to St Luke's for a weeklong visit. The
African visitors were housed in the homes of church mem-
bers. In such cultural and religious exchanges, the body of
Christ is strengthened. Both communities receive much in
return as the intimate link between worship and society lived
in full communion. When South Africans and North
186 Worship

Americans worship together, for example, they do so as full

and equal members of the same body of Christ, learning from
one another's lives and traditions. That was the vision of the
liturgical reformers of the last century, but it remains our
challenge today as the cultural penchant for individualism
continues to hold sway in much of Western Europe, North
America, and Oceania.
At the end of the day, there is no guarantee that Christian
worship will embody and exhibit the sort of honesty, com-
passion, and human solidarity that the Gospel of Jesus
demands. It must be intentional if it is to succeed; it will not
come automatically as a byproduct of ritual. Indeed, there
are plenty of examples from history that demonstrate just
the opposite. Those examples point to liturgy as a closed sys-
tem, at times either rationalizing or defending violence and
injustice, or perhaps expressing a token degree of concern
while doing its best not to 'rock the boat'. And, unfortunately,
it would not be too difficult to find contemporary examples as
well. When such ritual systems do exist, they perpetuate a
worldview that is not real and fail to intersect with the real-
ity and problems of human life as we know it.
Our own cultural approach to death offers an interesting
example. From our earliest years, we are introduced to a cul-
ture built on comfort and feeling good, avoiding human suf-
fering at all cost and denying hurt and pain where they exist.
There are drugs and vitamins to maintain the fountain of
youth well into old age, procedures to remove our wrinkles
and the lines on our faces so that we appear younger, ways of
restoring hair to those who have lost it, and dyes to colour
hair for those who are fortunate enough to have it! The list
could go on, of course. In other words, almost from our birth
we are taught how to negotiate life's tough deals, and the cul-
tivated skills of avoidance and denial help us along the way.
Even our talk about death is less than direct as we struggle
to find the means of acknowledging it. Without even realiz-
 Worship and Society 187

ing it, our culture teaches us to say a friend or loved one

'passed away' rather than 'died'. It sounds less harsh, per-
haps, and helps us to avoid coming to terms too quickly with
that finality which all of us must eventually face. Recently,
some liturgical scholars have been reconsidering the practice
of Christian burial in this light.
The reformed funeral rite at the Second Vatican Council
rightly offered a helpful reinterpretation of that final rite of
passage, both from a theological and ritual perspective. Very
soon, many pastors shifted from black vestments to white.
And the funeral Mass in Roman Catholic churches often
came to be called 'the Mass of Resurrection' - a much more
hopeful approach than what one finds in the Dies Irae ('Day
of wrath, O Day of mourning...') so typical of the pre-Vatican
II ritual. Thanks to psychological and sociological research,
however, which have helped us to understand the importance
of grieving as an essential component within the healing
process, some liturgists are now questioning if our own
Christian burial rites offer sufficient room for lament and
mourning. Like the rest of postmodern culture, is it possible
that we in the Church are also subtly (or not so subtly) being
seduced by what Ernest Becker called 'the Denial of Death?'
In a book by the same name (1997), Becker argues that the
human person refuses to acknowledge his or her own mor-
tality and negotiates life accordingly.
Our funerary practices as they are exercised in the more
developed countries of the West would seem to indicate an
affirmative response to the question that has been posed.
Many are familiar with what came to be called 'the Irish
wake' which usually occurred in the home. Mourners wept
for the deceased but they also laughed as they shared recol-
lections and funny stories from that individual's past, accom-
panied by food and drink. Such wakes, which often lasted
well into the night, served for many as a cathartic experience,
assisting in the process of healing for the family of the
188 Worship

deceased. In modern society, however, wake-keeping moved

to the 'funeral home' and came to be orchestrated by profes-
sionals who did their best to prepare the body of the deceased
as if to suggest that the person was still alive. In such cases,
it was not uncommon to hear the comment as mourners
approached the casket: 'He looks like he's sleeping,' or 'She
looks beautiful.' Or, as I heard recently as one Italian Jesuit
brother visited the newly positioned tomb of Blessed Pope
John XXIII whose remains are now visible: 'He never looked
better!' It is not uncommon (monastic funerals are an excep-
tion) that funeral directors will not lower the body of the
deceased into the ground until after all the mourners have
left the cemetery - a further attempt to deny the sad reality
of death and loss of a loved one.
Honesty is a crucial ingredient for the integrity of
Christian worship, and for the effective fostering of a closer
relationship between Christian rituals and the reality of
human life in all its forms. This includes the full range of
human emotions present within all of us at any given moment.
As those emotions are expressed in joy or in lament, in hope
or in fear, they too are offered to God and become redemp-
tive. Attempts to repress those emotions, however, or to deny
the reality of our own lives or the life of our world as we come
before God in worship, mean an acceptance of those cultural
values which stand in such sharp contrast to the ethical
demands placed upon us at our baptism. In such situations,
Gordon Lathrop writes:
'Christ crucified is made into a distant religious cipher, a
sacrifice. A little lament can be allowed, as long as it is imme-
diately consoled. Or, more usually, unanswered disorder and
unsolaced suffering are simply not admitted, overlooked in
the prayers and expunged from the readings. Secular rituals
can be wholly experienced as ceremony, allowing no presence
of the ambiguous or the contrary. Such a ritual practice, of
course, has the inevitable effect of supporting the status quo
 Worship and Society 189

in the social distribution of wealth and power, significance

and position' (Lathrop: 1993, pp. 208-9).

Conclusion
Far from maintaining the status quo, Christian worship
teaches us to live differently as a result of our liturgical par-
ticipation so that we become instruments in the service of
God's reign by welcoming the poor and the stranger. It is one
thing to teach this in a classroom, it is quite another thing to
act it out symbolically - to put it into practice within the litur-
gical assembly, allowing that service to flow into daily life. In
other words, questions concerning Christian ethics and the
shape of the moral life cannot be adequately grasped apart
from Christian worship. Communal praise and thanksgiving,
intercession and remembrance, form one organic whole and
offer us a vision of God's world. And the way in which we wor-
ship is inseparably linked to the way in which we live.
Emphasizing the fundamental role of the Holy Spirit in this
process of transformation, some liturgists have advocated an
imposition of hands over the liturgical assembly as well as
over the gifts of bread and wine. They suggest this manual
addition as an important means of linking the assembly with
the Eucharistic gifts of which it partakes, and of symbolizing
its empowerment for Christian mission in the service of others
through sacramental sharing in that ritual meal.
That empowerment moves from just worship to just serv-
ice of others in the reign of God. I entitled my book on the
U.S. Roman Catholic liturgical movement The Unread Vision
(1998) borrowing from T. S. Eliot's 'Ash Wednesday':
'Redeem the unread vision in the higher dream.' I chose such
a title to suggest that the socially minded vision of worship
that characterized the early liturgical pioneers has been
largely 'unread' and needs to be 'redeemed'. Or, where that
vision had been operative, we might say that it has been lost
190 Worship

and needs to be retrieved. In any case, the task lies before us

to forge ever-greater links between worship and society with
its inherent suffering and needs. It is not insignificant that
the Latin root for both mission and Mass is the same: 'to
send' or 'to be sent'. Thus, the traditional dismissal at the
end of the Roman Catholic Eucharist: 'Go, the Mass is
Ended' means, in effect, 'Go, you are sent.' Some churches
have further explicated that dismissal as in the traditional
Anglican command: 'Go into the world in peace.' However
one frames the dismissal, the challenge is clear: to go and be
sent, living as Christ's body and blood in the midst of daily
life and recognizing God's risen life in the sacramentality of
the world.
Thanks to the Second Vatican Council and the concomit-
ant renewal of the other churches, we have come a long way
from understanding worship simply as rubrics or something
that remains in the periphery of human society. But there is
still the impression in some circles that those engaged in the
field of liturgies are only concerned about aesthetics - using
fancy vestments and spending the church's money on artis-
tic externals. On more than one occasion I have heard it said:
'I'm not interested in liturgy. I'm into social justice.' The dis-
tinction implied, of course, suggests that those committed to
social justice are not interested in more elaborate or involved
worship, but might prefer something more informal - per-
haps a Eucharist celebrated in the living room of a home,
without vestments or music, and a minimal use of liturgical
symbols within the celebration. The fact of the matter is that
social justice needs liturgy and liturgy needs social justice. Or
we could say that advocates for justice need liturgists, and
liturgists need advocates for justice. The most beautifully cel-
ebrated liturgy in the world, enacted with elegant vesture
and ceremonial, glorious music and full participation, but
which fails to exhibit or embody that passion for justice
which the Gospel demands, is as anaemic and incomplete as
 Worship and Society 191

the haphazard 'coffee table' liturgy. The link between wor-

ship and human society is one and the same mystery, as Saint
Augustine would remind us. And dedication to integrating
those two realities is a non-negotiable.
Worship and the works of justice need not compete for our
attention. Indeed, their mutual success depends on their
inter-relationship. This integration was expressed most elo-
quently in January 2003 at the annual meeting of the North
American Academy of Liturgy. As we gathered in Indiana-
polis, Indiana, we were told that the immediate past-president
of that body, Gabe Huck, was unable to be present. He was in
Iraq with a larger group who travelled there to be in solidar-
ity with the Iraqi people, witnessing for peace as his own
country, the United States, prepared for war. Actions speak
louder than words and Huck's actions left no ambiguity
about his own socially oriented view of Christian worship.
The fact that a past-president of the most prestigious liturgi-
cal academy in the English world would travel to Iraq at such
a critical time speaks volumes. But our own liturgical ges-
tures and how we employ our symbols also communicate a
great deal about worship's relationship to society and our
vision of the reign of God. Only in Christian worship do the
poor become rich and the rich are no richer than the poorest
of the poor. Thus, Christian baptism becomes the great
equalizer. And while it does not alleviate human suffering or
economic caste systems which separate the 'haves' and the
'have nots', it leaves no room for preferential treatment
within the liturgical assembly - no room for 'first class' seat-
ing, no special deals for the more established. It is rather the
social order established by Jesus Christ that becomes opera-
tive because it is Christ himself who stands at the centre of
that worship.
As we consider the sacramentality of the world which is
offered back to God in Christian worship and as we recommit
ourselves ever-more intentionally to bearing Christ's body in
192 Worship

routine of daily life, perhaps the words of the late Anglican

priest and liturgical pioneer, Percy Dearmer, best summarize
the challenge that is set before us:
'All our meals and all our living
Make as sacraments of thee,
That by caring, helping, giving
We may true disciples be.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
We will serve thee faithfully.'
('Draw Us In The Spirit's Tether')
 8
Worship and the Future of
Christianity
Introduction

Since the 1930s, our world has undergone radical cultural

shifts, thanks to the process of globalization. These shifts
have been seen in art, architecture, and music, as well as in
literature, philosophy, and theology. We speak of this era as
'postmodern'. Architecturally, whereas the modern movement
emphasized organic integrity and functionality, evidenced in
the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, for example, architecture in
the postmodern period thrives on 'multivalence', blending
together various forms and styles, highlighting diversity and
pluriformity through a hybrid of architectural designs.
Implied in this rejection of modern architecture is a strong
critique against what is perceived as a dehumanized mass
production and unnecessary uniformity, helped by industry
and technological advances (Phan: 2003, p. 56).
Like postmodern architecture, art in the postmodern con-
text rejects the organic unity typical of modernity and argues
for a more heterogenous blending of forms and shapes, with
a preference for juxtaposing diverse and contradictory styles.
Indirectly, such juxtaposition calls into question the tradition
and validity of a single artistic creator, arguing in favour of
an eclectic mix of disharmonious styles and elements. Similar
plurastic developments can be observed in postmodern the-
atre, which emphasizes transience over stability and perma-
nence. Vietnamese theologian Peter Phan writes:
'Perceiving what it takes to be the repressive power of a
script and a director, practitioners of postmodern theatre
experiment with immediate performance without a script,
thus making each performance unique and unrepeatable,
194 Worship

and with improvisation, group authorship and audience partici-

pation. They reject modernity's "aesthetics of presence" and
advocate the "aesthetics of absence", which highlights the lack of
any permanent, underlying truth. Life, like the story performed
on the stage, is but an eclectic assemblage of intersecting, dis-
connected and impermanent narratives' (Phan: 2003, p. 57).
This juxtaposition can also be found in fiction, offering some
challenges to successfully identifying the real from the ficti-
tious character. Thus, it becomes difficult to distinguish
between reality and fiction, between permanence and change,
so that traditional certitudes and the security of truth can no
longer be taken for granted. This same series of contrasts is
also seen in postmodern film. The viewer is able to experience
as a unity that very thing which was a disunity both in time
and in space. This unity does not reflect the reality, of course,
but is edited accordingly so as to create the preferred image,
thanks to significant advances in computer technology. In
such contexts, Phan states: 'It is not possible to tell the real
from the fantastic, the historical from the fictional' (Phan:
2003, p. 58). When one considers the world of virtual reality
within the World Wide Web, the dividing line between object
and subject, reality and fiction, is further blurred.
The world of postmodernism could be characterized - at
least according to some scholars - as pessimistic, holistic,
communitarian, and pluralistic. Pessimism becomes a hall-
mark of this epoch as it underscores human fragility and
negates the Enlightenment's emphasis on 'inevitable
progress'. Holism is included in this description in its rejec-
tion of rationality and embrace of the emotions and intuition.
Communitarianism serves as a corrective to the individual-
ism so typical of modernity and advocates the community-
based search for truth. Pluralism articulates the diversity of
cultural traditions and the corresponding necessity of differ-
ent truths representing those communities. Thus, there is no
one truth, no one objective reality, no one way of negotiating
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 195

life in the real world. Rather, the world is a complex symbol-

ic system that relies more on subjective interpretation than
on absolute and demonstrable truth. Therefore, the universe
can never be objectively and fully described by science. Peter
Phan affirms this when he states that 'the universe not only
has a history but is a history that cannot be controlled and
predicted by scientific methods' (Phan: 2003, pp. 59-60).

The Cultural Challenges to Authentic Worship

Organized religion is not immune to these postmodern
effects. Indeed, we could apply postmodern principles to
Christian worship by way of evaluation and come up with
some interesting results. Critics of the liturgical reform
might highlight post-Conciliar Church architecture as conso-
nant with the minimalist objectives of postmodern thought,
emphasizing the plurastic communitarian search for truth
over discernible and demonstrable objective reality and pri-
mal truth. Others might point to the eclectic combination of
liturgical and non-liturgical elements in post-Conciliar wor-
ship that stand in sharp contrast to the predictable and tra-
ditional framework of the past. With mobility and change as
guiding principles in postmodernism, the transience indica-
tive of the New Capitalism's 'No long term' (described in the
last chapter) also fits well into this social construct. Tradition
itself is challenged as change is induced for the sake of
change, whether the topic is corporate restructuring, architec-
tural remodelling of homes, or the abandonment of responsi-
bilities and commitments in human relationships. Perfectly
good systems are replaced whether or not such replacements
are needed because transience is good in and of itself. Thus,
what is described in terms of art, literature, and theatre can
also be found in these other webs of human relationships and
in daily life. All of these cultural factors weigh quite signifi-
cantly on Christian worship, and not necessarily for the better.
196 Worship

We have seen how, historically, it was impossible for the

Church to worship outside of or apart from its cultural con-
text, and the postmodern Church is no exception as contem-
porary culture undergoes its own metamorphosis.
While he does not directly link the problems of Church
participation as contingent upon the effects of postmod-
ernism, one Roman Catholic bishop recently launched a seri-
ous attack on culture and how it is gradually eroding the very
heart and tenets of Christianity in his native Italy. Aless-
andro Maggiolini, the Bishop of Como in northern Italy, pub-
lished a book entitled La fine della nostra Cristianita ('The
End of Our Christianity'), wherein he laments the sad state
of affairs in the Italian church. He notes an overall malaise
regarding the practice of the faith, evidenced by a sharp
decline in church attendance, and general boredom and apa-
thy on the part of the young regarding worship in general
(participation or preaching music). The bishop perceives no
easy solutions to these escalating problems. Indeed, he is so
concerned about the future that he predicts Christianity's
eventual extinction in that region - at least Christianity as
lived and practised with active participation in parish life and
worship.
Maggiolini's fears merit attention. I live in Rome's historic
centre, which is full of beautiful churches. Those edifices are
rich in history and have been significant centres of faith over
the centuries. But today many of those churches are largely
empty. And when people are present for scheduled worship
services, congregants tend to be much older. Where are the
young? At first blush, one might explain the problem in terms
of demographics. Most young people cannot afford to live in
the city centre and so they find apartments on the outskirts.
Visits to those parishes in the periphery, however, generally
show no higher percentage of young adults. Suburban parish-
es do tend to be more vibrant than their inner-city counter-
parts, but those parishioners are young families or older
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 197

Catholics. The segment of the population between the ages of

twenty and forty is largely absent. And as Italy has one of the
lowest birthrates in Western Europe, reliance on young fami-
lies to sustain parish life also becomes a risky business.
After the Bishop of Como expresses his grave concerns
about the Italian Church's future in the first part of his book,
he proceeds to analyse those problem in search of answers in
the second. Maggiolini determines that, by and large, this
malaise exists because young people are no longer faithful to
the magisterium regarding Church teachings. They ignore
statements of the current Pope and the encyclicals of his
predecessors, choosing to go their own way in creating a self-
made religion tailored to their particular needs - not unlike
the kind of postmodern re-appropriation of tradition and
symbol systems mentioned above. While I can share some-
thing of Bishop Maggiolini's apocalyptic preoccupations
about the future of the Church (especially in western
Europe), arriving at the root of such liturgical and, indeed,
ecclesial discontent strikes me as far more complex than is
presented in his text. Of course, it is true that postmodern
culture continues to influence women and men (including
many Roman Catholics) to seek their own spiritual paths and
tailor them accordingly, worshipping or not worshipping on
Sunday as they are so inclined, and establishing their own
personalized set of rules to live by. But there is an even more
fundamental part of the problem that the Bishop fails to
address.
Is it not possible that part of the problem involves those of
us who are priests and bishops and our incapacity at times to
credibly and effectively communicate the gospel message? In
other words, is it completely the fault of young people who
are bored to tears on Sunday morning as they must endure
worship that fails to intersect with the joys and struggles, the
hopes and fears within their own lives? Some Italian friends
of mine tell me that they are absent from Sunday Mass
198 Worship

because they do not feel at home there; there is no connec-

tion. The preaching drags on endlessly, they complain, often
read from the written text and with no human communica-
tion skills evident. In some cases, the tone is negative while
in others, the preacher appears bored and lifeless himself,
giving little evidence of an enthusiasm or even a remote
passion for that Word which he is proclaiming. In such situ-
ations, there is no good news in the Good News. So these
individuals find the good news elsewhere: outside of the
Church. The current crisis in church attendance and liturgi-
cal participation is very complex indeed, and will offer an
ever-greater challenge to pastoral ministers of the future.

Liturgical Leadership and Service

What is central here is the question of liturgical formation
within seminaries: how are we preparing and training
church ministers to lead the Church and its worship in a new
millennium and a new century? How are we forming
presiders who are 'strong, loving and wise' as Robert Hovda
called for years ago in his writings and lectures? And do the
lives of those who lead the liturgical assembly integrate that
gospel call to service? Do those ministers live with a genuine
care and compassion for others, demonstrable in the way
they preside at the Eucharist and at other forms of worship?
Until we can adequately face up to such questions, little
progress will be made.
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Congregation for
the Doctrine of the Faith, has argued in his recent book The
Spirit of the Liturgy that one of the problems with the post-
Vatican II liturgy is precisely that the one presiding is too
central. In facing the assembly, the post-Conciliar president
potentially gets in the way of the worship. This was not so in
the Tridentine Mass when the priest, facing east, was more
focused on 'offering the sacrifice' and was less of a distrac-
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 199

tion. I would agree with the Cardinal that, in some cases, the
post-Vatican II presider has indeed become too obtrusive,
especially in the situation described above. But the solution
is not to go back to facing the east - the wall. That would be
too easy! Rather, the task of formators and seminary profes-
sors is to train their candidates to preside prayerfully with
transparency, with grace and ease, with the kind of focus and
spiritual maturity that one would expect of Church elders -
presbyters. This can be done and, in fact, has been done quite
successfully when presiders face the assembly. Ultimately,
the entire liturgical assembly - presiders and lay members
alike - will need to resist cultural pressures to entertain the
assembly. Lutheran liturgist Frank Senn frames it this way:
'Liturgy in the postmodern world must aim for enchant-
ment, not entertainment. Entertainment is a major facet of
our culture. But entertainment as a cultural model is inade-
quate to the mission of the gospel because it works best when
it leaves one satisfied with oneself and one's world.
Enchantment, on the other hand, casts a spell that leads one
from a drab world to another, brighter, more interesting world.
This may be accomplished more through processions, lights,
incense, chants and a visually rich environment than through
texts alone (although rhetorically elevated prose would be
more of a help in enchanting worshipers than the banalities
and rational discourse to which we are often subjected in so-
called contemporary liturgies)' (Senn: 1997, p. 704).
Thus, if presiders are to be effective instruments in the
enchantment of their congregations gathered together in
holy assembly, the churches will need to recognize the fact
that presiding is a craft to be learnt; it does not come with the
grace of ordination. The presider is first and foremost a
member of the assembly and its servant both in worship and
daily life. Effective presiding begins with profound prayer
and daily meditation on the part of the leader. Those who do
not take the time to pray privately will never effectively lead
200 Worship

the Church's worship. Rather, their presidency within the

assembly will come off either as haphazard or as theatre with
that leader at centre stage. On the contrary, prayerful pre-
siding flows out of a spirituality of prayerful living, and God
remains at the centre both in life and in worship. This is not
to suggest that the presider must appear overly serious or
take on the sort of pious mannerisms that make most people
run in the other direction. But he or she must be focused and
mindful that the liturgy does not belong to him or her. Rather,
it belongs to the Church and to God who is worshipped 'in
spirit and in truth'.
Poorly prepared homilies also enter into this equation as
most educated Christians can tell the difference between a
well-crafted preaching and one that is undeveloped. Here,
Roman Catholics have much to learn from their Anglican
and Protestant counterparts. In our contemporary society,
increasing numbers of participants at worship have come to
expect a level of professionalism in the clergy as concomitant
with what they encounter in law, medicine or other areas of
daily life. And they are less than amused at having to endure
homilies which appear to have been prepared as the preach-
er left the parish house that morning - or perhaps in the sac-
risty while vesting for the liturgy. Such homilies, lacking in
concrete images and any semblance of thought, will serve no
purpose, except perhaps to lull at least some congregants into
a peaceful rest until it is time to rise for the Nicene Creed.
The issue of liturgical presidency is intimately linked to
orders, and the sharp decline in religious vocations in the
Roman Catholic Church has brought this issue to the fore
with ever-greater urgency as increasing numbers of Catholic
communities are being denied the Eucharist.
Ultimately, the Roman Catholic Church will need to come
to terms with exactly what priority it gives to the Holy
Eucharist. That may sound flippant, but it is intended as
quite a serious question. As the clergy shortage becomes an
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 201

ever-greater reality (even in parts of Italy) the celebration of

Mass is being replaced by Communion Services led by
members of the laity These services closely resemble the
Eucharistic structure: Introductory Rite and Liturgy of
the Word (including a brief homily), Prayer of Thanksgiving
(bearing a vague resemblance to the Preface of the
Eucharistic Prayer), the Lord's Prayer, Invitation to
Communion ('This is the Lamb of God ...'), distribution of
Communion from the tabernacle, Concluding Prayer, and
Dismissal. But the structure appears so similar that the
distinctions between Mass and the Communion Service can
easily be blurred. Let me give an example. Back in the early
1990s, Kathleen Hughes RSCJ, currently U.S. Provincial of
the Religious of the Sacred Heart, did a study of Roman
Catholic Sunday worship in Canada and the United States in
the absence of a priest. As part of her study she conducted
numerous interviews with diocesan and pastoral leaders in
both countries and presented her findings in Dublin, Ireland,
at the 1995 meeting of the international Societas Liturgica.
On one of the returned questionnaires, an older woman
wrote: 'I like Sister's Mass better than Father's Mass ...',
Evidently, to that parishioner it was all 'Mass' and she was
unable to decipher the difference!
Even for those who do appreciate the difference,
Communion Services are an inferior substitute to the
Celebration of the Eucharist which Vatican II states is 'the
source and summit of the Christian life'. It was for this reason
that William McManus, the then retired Bishop of Fort Wayne-
South Bend, Indiana, voted against the proposed ritual for
'Sunday in the Absence of a Priest' at an annual meeting of the
United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. He did so not
because he opposed the idea of lay women and men leading
worship in Church, but rather because such rituals were merely
putting bandages over gaping wounds, instead of performing
major surgery in order to bring about lasting healing and cure.
202 Worship

Recalling the second-century testimony of Justin Martyr,

presidency at the Eucharist was intrinsically linked with
presidency of the community, especially its service of the
poor: its diakonia. To settle for lay presidency within the
Sunday assembly just because we choose to avoid the
thornier issue of ordination would appear to be a step in the
wrong direction.
Saint Thomas Aquinas maintains that Eucharist is and
must be the centre of the Christian life and our Church
structures and other sacraments relate to it in a most intrin-
sic way. Aquinas, of course, was not saying anything new,
but merely articulating what the Church had recognized as
its own tradition for centuries. At the dawning of the twenty-
first century, all the Eucharistically oriented Christian
churches but especially the Roman Catholic Church must
once again come to terms with what such centrality really
means. In other words, how high a priority does the Church
give to the Eucharist? If it is a secondary issue - if we are
content to settle for Communion services as standard fare
and Mass as the rare exception - then we can proceed with
business as usual, offering the Eucharistic celebration as
long as a sufficient number of male, celibate clergy remain
available. And when they are no longer available, then
Communion Services can be performed by lay leaders. This
is certainly an option and, indeed, is currently functioning
as the modus operandi in more and more regions of the
Catholic world.
If, however, the Roman Catholic Church wishes to serious-
ly reaffirm the centrality of the Eucharist as the very heart
and life-blood of its existence, then it will need to face some
serious choices. The most immediate and most obvious is the
ordination of married men. This is more urgent because it is
the usage of the Eastern churches and it is dogmatically
quite acceptable. The other question that continues to come
up is the ordination of women. There is obviously more diffi-
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 203

culty with this question because of the 2000-year tradition of

the Church. Paradoxically, the very usages of the Eastern
churches that sanction a married clergy inhibit the ordina-
tion of women. But the Church must face the fact that this is
increasingly read as discrimination by women, and con-
tributes significantly to what is read as hegemony of the mas-
culine in the Church. The Church has not yet found a way to
resolve this very complicated issue. This is not said in a spir-
it of progressive ideological banner waving but rather out of
great concern for the future of our Eucharistic Church.
Failure to adequately confront these very difficult issues will
result in a future Church that is no longer Eucharistic. And
that would be very sad indeed. It goes without saying that
the lowering of standards in seminaries just to perpetuate a
male-only priesthood at any cost will produce disastrous
results. In these post-Conciliar years, other Christian
churches have faced this issue of worship and orders square-
ly and not without great difficulty. Is it not time that Roman
Catholics come to terms with the problem as well? Our
Eucharistic future depends on it. It is that simple.

A New Sociological Reality for a New Millennium

As we move further into our liturgical future, we will need to
confront a new sociological reality as our context for worship
with a new set of problems to be addressed, if our corporate
prayer is to be authentic and credible.

Hospitality in the Liturgical Assembly

Recently, I participated in a press conference on the naming
of a new bishop. One member of the panel was asked by a
reporter which model would be appropriate for the new bish-
op to follow as he took office. My colleague paused briefly and
then responded: 'Not to be saccharine about it, but what
about the model of Jesus Christ? I don't think that would be
204 Worship

such a bad place to start. After all, he gave himself totally to

others in generous service, he led with extraordinary convic-
tion and was deeply in communion with God.' The room
broke into laughter because my colleague stated that which
should have been most obvious. I would proffer the same
response to the question of liturgical hospitality. What model
should presiders and other liturgical ministers - indeed the
entire assembly - employ in discerning the parameters of
hospitality within Christian worship? While Jesus did not
exactly leave us a blueprint for liturgical hospitality in 2003,
the example given in his earthly ministry provides more than
a clue as to how people are to be treated.
Two thousand years later, we profess that same Christian
faith, proclaim that same gospel as we share Christ's holy
meal - women and men called into friendship with God and
service of others, just as those early disciples were. But the
demographics and the sociological reality are radically differ-
ent and we are forced to deal with new situations that would
have been unimaginable even forty or fifty years ago. Indeed,
it is the same body of Christ gathered together in corporate
worship, but the names and faces have changed, and so has
the lived reality of those in the assembly. In Roman Catholic
communities that reality presents fresh challenges for pas-
toral ministry and liturgical hospitality. For example, today
there are increasing numbers of divorced and remarried
Catholics sitting in the pews on Sunday morning, along with
gays and lesbians and numerous others who find themselves
on the fringe of official Church teaching. These individuals
are all there on Sunday mornings at our common worship
and many live generous lives of service to their parishes and
in the wider secular community.
This might suggest that 'anything goes'. But if our cur-
rent statistics are any indicator, there will be fewer and fewer
Roman Catholics eligible to receive the Eucharist one hun-
dred years from now. Thus, the mandate of Jesus 'Take and
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 205

Eat, Take and Drink' will technically be able to be responded

to only by a select few. Or, like their Hispanic counterparts,
those individuals who live in what the Church considers
irregular situations will go elsewhere where they are wel-
comed and embraced as Christ. Again, as we analyse current
sociological trends vis-a-vis our corporate worship, we must
honestly ask ourselves: 'What would Jesus do?' At the very
least, we must admit that it is difficult to imagine this friend
of prostitutes and tax collectors reading a statement about
who should or should not come to Holy Communion.

Ecumenism
Increasing numbers of couples find themselves in what the
church calls 'mixed marriages' where one spouse is Roman
Catholic while the other belongs to a different church. In
such ecumenical families it is not uncommon that the non-
Catholic spouse is present at the Roman Catholic Sunday
Mass. The situation is especially poignant at weddings and
funerals where non-Roman Catholic family members are
painfully denied access to the Eucharist as they witness the
marriage of a child or the burial of a loved one. But the situ-
ation can be equally awkward at the Sunday Eucharist when
children ask their non-Catholic parent why he or she is not
joining them at Communion. The situation is particularly
acute when a parent is Anglican or Lutheran, representing a
liturgical tradition so close to that found within Roman
Catholicism.
At the end of the day there is infinitely more which unites
us than divides us and as we move into the future we must
do so more and more liturgically as one body of Christ. Few
will forget that moving image during the Jubilee year of 2000
when Pope John Paul II knelt and prayed side by side with
the Archbishop of Canterbury and an Orthodox Patriarch
before the Holy Door of the Basilica of Saint Paul's 'Outside
the Walls' - the same place where Paul VI had given the ring
206 Worship

to Michael Ramsey. After they opened the Holy Door togeth-

er, an Ecumenical Service of the Word followed which opened
the Week of Prayer for the Unity of Christians. We need
many more such experiences of common worship if our cor-
porate Christian witness is to be credible in a new century
and a new millennium. There is infinitely more that unites
us than divides us, but too often in the past - and even in
the present - we have focused negatively on our divisions,
ignoring the common ground that we share and the ecu-
menical progress that has been made. The time has come to
move forward, and we must do so together as Christ would
have us do.

Changing Roles for the Laity

As we have seen in the history of the early Church, the laity
were full and active participants in their Christian commu-
nities through baptism. This is a demonstrable fact as we
consider the role that they played, together with their clergy,
in the selection of bishops. That voice of the laity waned over
the centuries, however, and was only recovered at the
Reformation and then again at Second Vatican Council for
Roman Catholics. Forty years after that Council we have a
laity that is more and more theologically astute and prepared
for leadership roles and various ministries in the Church.
Like their forebears in the early Church, these individuals
are asking for a greater participation in the Church's life and
worship. Despite the Council's best efforts, however, some
parishes or dioceses continue to view such offers of greater
lay involvement as a threat rather than a gift. Effective litur-
gical renewal in the future will need to take the role of the
laity more seriously. Failure to do so will mean a further loss
of credibility for the Roman Catholic Church's mission and
also for its worship.
The issue of women within the Church is an important
part of this discussion. A recent Gallup poll (March 2002)
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 207

entitled 'Religion and the Sexes' indicates that more women

than men consider religion an important part of their lives.
The study learned that 68 per cent of women consider reli-
gion Very important' while only 48 per cent of men agreed.
Only 39 per cent of men said that they attend church or syn-
agogue every week as opposed to 48 per cent women. 43 per
cent of women read the Bible weekly; but only 29 per cent of
men said the same. Nearly three quarters of women inter-
viewed believe that religion can answer today's problems as
compared with 59 per cent of men who agreed with that affir-
mation. Polls and statistics are hardly infallible tools to
gauge the truth, but they do offer some indication of current
and future trends. This particular poll would seem to suggest
that women take their spirituality and religious practice
more seriously than their male counterparts. Yet in Roman
Catholic contexts, when they participate in worship the
extent of their participation is limited and inferior, despite
the fact that Christian baptism makes no such distinctions
between male and female (National Catholic Reporter:
January 10, 2003, p. 6).

Challenge of Islam and Interreligious Dialogue

The sad events of 11 September 2001 have opened old
wounds of religious rivalry and provoked new waves of reli-
gious discrimination and oppression. Despite the richness
and diversity of Islam - which is as rich and diverse as
Christianity or Judaism - many Western Christians continue
to associate Islam with terrorism, or with such groups as
Hamas or Al Quaida. Meanwhile, Muslim extremists label all
Christians as 'evil' and are bent on destroying them. Most
Muslim parents want the same good things for their children
as Christian parents. They take their children to the mosque
on Friday mornings. They teach the faith to their children at
home by their example. Yet there remains a great divide
between these two major religions especially when we gath-
208 Worship

er for worship. In most Christian assemblies, it remains

uncommon to pray for Muslims at Sunday morning worship
in any fashion. This is so even during the holy time of
Ramadan when Muslims engage in an intense period of
prayer and fasting, not unlike the practices of self-abnegation
that many Christians practise during Lent. The future of
Christian worship will need to be open to further dialogue
with and prayers for our Muslim neighbours, if our worship
is to remain contextualized and in touch with the real world.
Quite simply, Islam is on the rise and the number of
Christians continues to diminish. Consider the statistics.
Back in 1980, Muslims constituted about 18 per cent of the
world's population. That number is expected to reach 30 per
cent by the year 2025 and to continue rising. Conversely, the
number of Christians continues to decline. Having reached
its peak at 30 per cent in the 1980s, the number of Christians
is expected to count for only 25 per cent of the world's popu-
lation by the year 2025. The world's religious future is clear-
ly not with Christianity, thus it is all the more crucial that
Christian worship be open to an ever-greater dialogue with
other religious traditions.
One of the greatest leaders in this regard has been Pope
John Paul II himself in his visits to Rome's synagogue early
in his pontificate, and more recently to Egypt, Israel, and
Palestine, where he kissed the Koran in a mosque and prayed
movingly with Jews in Jerusalem at the Western Wall. The
interfaith experiences of prayer held at Assisi (most recently
in January 2002), desired and insisted upon by the Pope him-
self, bear further testimony to his convictions about the
importance of worship that opens out to the world. Those
gestures and interfaith moments of common prayer play an
important role in fostering healing and unity among differ-
ent religions and cultures. Such encounters need not be lim-
ited to papal trips or high-profile meetings, however.
In September 2002, I participated in a moving interfaith
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 209

worship service held at the Catholic Mission in Ulan Bator,

Mongolia, to celebrate United Nations Day and the call to
world peace. Along with a number of ambassadors from dif-
ferent countries and different religious traditions were
Buddhist and Hindu representatives, and Muslim and
Jewish delegates, each of whom had a particular role to play
within the worship. These diverse groups and traditions
came together easily for worship because they knew one
another outside of the worship hall. They collaborate on pro-
jects of community organizing and social outreach. Thus, the
dialogue expressed ritually that evening was part of a much
larger dialogue lived daily in that capital city.
Similar developments can be found elsewhere. Last year, I
participated in the second Tenrikyo-Christian Dialogue held in
Japan at Tenri University (near Kyoto). This Japanese religion
has three million members worldwide and was founded only in
1838, so it is both new and relatively small when compared
with the world's major religions. But their commitment to dia-
logue is immense, and the search for links in our common
emphasis on worship has been at the heart of our dialogue
both in our first meeting in Rome and the second at Tenri.
Like Christianity, Tenrikyo observes the daily rhythm of
morning and evening prayer. Moreover, at the monthly service
held in Tenrikyo centres throughout the world, twelve psalms
are chanted by the liturgical assembly along with movement
and gesture practised by the participants. Tenrikyo has rituals
that resemble Christian Baptism, Confirmation and the
Anointing of the Sick. Our religions, of course, are very differ-
ent indeed, but Western Christians have much to learn from
Tenrikyo worship, especially regarding the seriousness with
which their rituals are celebrated, the attention to the sym-
bolic - to gestures and movement - and the emphasis on
silence in worship that evokes the transcendent.
Indeed, we have much to learn from one another. But such
dialogue will necessitate our willingness to be open to a vari-
210 Worship

ety of critiques that other faiths may offer about our own
experience of worship in a spirit of mutual admonition.
Gordon Lathrop writes:
'Muslims and Jews may say we do not take seriously
enough the transcendence and unity of God, nor do we suffi-
ciently attend to the ethics that flow from worship. Buddhists
and Hindus may say that we act as if we know too much and
do not keep enough silence. The Gbaya of Western Africa or
other practitioners of small traditional religions might say
that our symbols are not sufficiently powerful and available,
nor are they exercised by the laity. Seekers in our midst, par-
ticipants in Wicca or in the phenomena of the 'new age', may
say that we care nothing for the earth nor for any strongly
experienced encounters with holiness. Voices from among all
of these people may point out that a crisis in religious sym-
bols, in order to bring the mystery and mercy of God to
expression, is not found only among Christians, but belongs
to the wisdom of many traditions' (Lathrop: 1993, p. 224).
Lathrop continues that Christians who love the Church
need not be threatened by such criticisms, but should listen to
them and be willing to acknowledge the truth of what is inher-
ent in the critique. The call to ongoing renewal in the Church
and its worship involves a continual critique of our religious
practices and we should not be afraid to hear such admonition
as it comes to us from outside our own religious tradition.

Conclusion
How to navigate these troubled waters? I would suggest sev-
eral things. First of all, we need to live worshipful lives of
honesty and integrity and that must begin with the leaders
of worship - presiders and preachers - who tell the truth and
celebrate that truth ritually. Writing on the subject of litur-
gical preaching, Timothy Radcliffe, former Master of the
Order of Preachers (Dominicans), has this to say:
 Worship and the Future of Christianity 211

'We have to be seen to speak truthfully, to tell things as

they are. Do people recognize their lives in our words? Our
congregations include young people struggling with their
hormones and the teachings of the Church, married couples
wrestling with crises of love, the divorced, old people facing
retirement, gay people feeling on the edge of the Church, sick
and dying people. Does their pain and happiness find some
space in our words? Do they recognize the truth of their expe-
rience in what we say?' (Radcliffe: 2003, p. 140).
Telling the truth in our preaching and presiding leads to a
second point. Before, during, and after our worship church
ministers and leaders of worship need to hear the truth as it
is spoken to them by those in the assembly. The Second
Vatican Council spoke of this reality when it spoke of the
Christian community as 'a pilgrim Church'. Whenever we
speak of pilgrimage we are speaking of travellers who learn
from one another as they walk the road together. In other
words, despite professional training or positions of leadership
held within the Church, there are no 'experts' - only learn-
ers. Of course, we have trained theologians and pastors, pro-
fessionally trained music directors and artists, but in the
reign of God there are no experts, only pilgrims, learners.
Together, whether bishop or unwed mother, we share a com-
mon mortality and as long as we live on this earth, we share
a common fragility and weakness as well. There are no
exceptions. Our worship must express this fundamental
truth symbolically from the moment we enter the liturgical
assembly until the moment we leave that building to go
home. Together, we are graced sinners, thus we who are bish-
ops and priests must 'listen to what the Spirit is saying to the
churches' as it is communicated by all members of the
Church, not just the ordained.
At his first public Mass on 15 December 2002, just a few
days after being appointed the interim leader of the
Archdiocese of Boston, Bishop Richard G. Lennon said this in
212 Worship

his homily: 'We must hear what is being said by those who
love the Church.' Indeed. As he preached, protestors
remained outside the Cathedral with picket signs just as they
had done all through the past year. Following the Mass, how-
ever, Bishop Lennon put his own preaching into practise. As
he passed through the doors of that church, still fully vested
and with his episcopal staff in hand, he descended the stairs,
broke the picket-line and proceeded to greet and speak with
the protestors, some of whom themselves were victims of cler-
ical sexual abuse. That simple and humble gesture disarmed
the crowd and broke down some significant barriers.
Together they spoke and the Bishop listened. As we face the
future of Christian worship, we will need to 'hear what is
being said by those who love the Church' if our worship is to
be honest and credible. And that is our challenge and our call.
 Conclusion
Christian worship always concludes with some form of send-
ing forth since it is in the missioning that the Gospel of
Christ takes to the streets and is made incarnate for others.
And the worshippers become the worship just as the dancers
become the dance. When worship becomes a lived reality in
daily life - when Christians take on the flesh and blood of
Christ's body in the workplace and the health club, at the
market and in the pub - then the Church is linked with the
rest of the world. Over the centuries we have done a fairly
good job of separating those worlds, but the challenge at this
moment in our history is to reconnect those separated enti-
ties. This was fundamentally the vision of the Second Vatican
Council, but forty years later we are still finding our way.
Allow me to suggest several areas of exploration that need fur-
ther attention if we are to move forward, so that our own profes-
sion of faith expressed in common worship will be taken seriously.
First, we will need to retrieve that sense of the Church as
Christ's mystical body. When I say 'the Church' I mean the
whole Church of Christ - Anglican and Lutheran, Methodist
and Baptist, Roman Catholic and Russian Orthodox - all of us
together. The issues here are quite complex in the various ecu-
menical dialogues currently taking place. At the very least, how-
ever, even as we await full communion with at least some of the
other churches, we need to be doing much more together in
areas of non-Eucharistic common prayer and social outreach
than is currently taking place. It is not enough to come togeth-
er annually during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity or for
an ecumenical service on Thanksgiving Eve (in Canada or the
United States). Happily, in some places, ecumenical clergy asso-
ciations are strong and there is even a weekly session on shared
homiletic preparation for the following Sunday. Now that we all
214 Worship

proclaim the same Scriptural lessons on Sunday morning, that

task is much easier. But we need to see one another as knitted
together in Christ's body both in prayer and service of others.
The social dimension of membership in the body of Christ
will need special attention and intentional commitment.
Individualism prevails and this link we share with others is
not always so easily perceived. If we take Christ's mandate
and our worship seriously, then we must recognize our con-
nection to the homeless person in the railway station or the
elderly person bent over and shuffling with a cane in the
supermarket. And we are connected with the Iraqi people,
and with Jews in Hebron, and even with Muslim funda-
mentalists in Pakistan. This is not an option as we leave the
Sunday morning assembly. It is a gospel imperative.
Second, we will need to recover that sense of awe and won-
der so that the full range of our emotions can be called forth
as we worship the Triune God. At the heart of this recovery
is our symbolic system - worshipping in such a way that our
symbols communicate with us as they are intended to do.
This means that we need to attend to silence in a world that
is full of words and endless commentaries. Good symbolic
communication explains itself by its very nature and needs
no further explanation. Abundantly sprinkling the congrega-
tion with baptismal water at the Sunday Eucharist needs no
prior explanation about why water is important in daily life.
When the entire congregation is reverenced with fragrant
incense and a profound bow, they know that they are being
reverenced as the body of Christ. However, when leaders of
worship insist on introducing or explaining every aspect of
the ritual before it is enacted, awe and wonder flee.
Third, liturgical formation will need to be a priority for
clergy and laity much more so than it is at present. This is
especially needed in Roman Catholic parishes. Of course,
there are dioceses, parishes, and seminaries where it is a pri-
ority and the results are palpable, but in too many places the
 Conclusion 215

converse is true. I would add that Catholics have much to

learn from Anglicans and other Christians about congrega-
tional participation. Too many Roman Catholics limit their
understanding of the Sunday Eucharist to obligation. In
other words, they go to Mass every Sunday because they are
required to. If that is one's operating principle for liturgical
participation then we should not be surprised that too many
Catholics still leave the singing to the choir, read the parish
bulletin during the homily, and exit the church after
Communion before the final prayer and hymn.
Last autumn, I attended an American football game during
my sabbatical in Boston. The fans around me were wild with
enthusiasm, screaming out and shouting in support of their
team as touchdown after touchdown was scored. During the
second half of the game my neighbours became even more
enthusiastic and began gyrating, jumping up and down in
their places as they chanted their praise. I began to laugh as
I looked around and wondered: 'Why can't the crowds on
Sunday morning be even one third as enthusiastic as this?'
Here were fathers and sons, brothers and friends, not at all
uncomfortable with their shouting and participating fully in
their football chants. The difference, of course, is that chant-
ing and yelling at football games is socially acceptable. But
there is an underlying suspicion among Roman Catholic men,
it seems to me, that real men don't sing in church - or at least
they don't sing loudly. And they certainly don't sing all the
verses of the hymn! Some have suggested that post-Vatican II
has become overly feminized as evidenced in some contempo-
rary liturgical music or in certain gestures such as holding
hands during the Lord's Prayer, which leave men feeling 'out-
side the loop'. That critique merits further study. Nonethe-
less, wherever the malaise originates, there does appear to be
a certain male bias against Tull and active liturgical partici-
pation'. With such cultural resistance and with attendance at
Sunday worship based solely on obligation, it not difficult to
216 Worship

understand why those same individuals would find worship's

social responsibility to be incomprehensible. Forty years after
Vatican II, there remains a tremendous amount of work to be
done in the area of liturgical catechesis.
Fourth, the area of liturgical inculturation will be of para-
mount importance as our new century unfolds. It is already of
great significance in India and in most African countries, but
it will need greater attention throughout the rest of the world.
This will be especially crucial as the multicultural dimension
of parishes in London and Birmingham, Dublin, New York,
Vancouver, and Melbourne becomes an ever-greater reality.
Predictions about future demographics are particularly strik-
ing in the United States. Nathan Mitchell writes: 'By the year
2080, the proportion of whites will fall from 74 percent to 50
percent; the rest of the U.S. population will be 23 percent Latin
American, 15 percent black, and 12 percent Asian (Mitchell:
1999, p. 181). Clearly, our liturgical future will be multiracial
and multiethnic. Just as Roman worship of the fifth century
reflected the cultural context and life of those who celebrated
it, so too must Christian worship of the twenty-first century be
equally contextualized. Of course, the importance of dialogue
with other religious traditions is implied within this multicul-
tural framework. In his keynote address at the Tenrikyo-
Christian Dialogue last year in Japan, Archbishop Michael
Fitzgerald, President of the Pontifical Council for Interreli-
gious Dialogue, noted the surprising religious diversity that is
changing the face of urban life around the world:
'One can meet Buddhists in Birmingham, U.K., Christians
in Calcutta, Hindus in Helsinki, Muslims in Marseille,
France, and Tenrikyo in Los Angeles and Paris, and even in
Rome. Dialogue and cooperation would seem to be the way
forward in the contemporary world.'
So our work is cut out for us. The challenge may seem
daunting but is well worth our efforts. The credibility of
Christian worship is at stake - and its future - and ours.
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 Index

Acts of the Apostles 13, 36, 38, Augustine of Hippo 15, 21, 41,
127 50-1, 65, 127, 167
Ad Gentes 131 City of God 51
Ad Limina Apostolorum 142 Augustinians 98-9
Adam, Adolf 16-17, 65
Advent 76, 111 Babette's Feast (film) 10-11
Africa 120, 122, 184 baptism 36, 45, 49, 67-8, 85,
agape 37 107, 158, 164
AIDS 184 bar mitzvah 6
Alcuin Club 89 Barney, George 124
All Saints Day 52 Barth, Karl 23
Ambrose 49, 50 Basil the Great 14
Anabaptists 73 Basilica of Saint John Lateran
anamnesis 25, 26, 27 47
ancestor worship 81, 82, 141 Basilica of Santa Maria
Anglicans 3, 17, 22, 115, 135, Martyres 52
171-2 basilicas 47-8
Camden Society 86 Baumstark, Anton 94
Episcopal Church 106, Beauduin, Lambert 91-2, 170-1
115, 173 Becker, Ernest 187
Oxford Movement 85-6 Beckwith, R.T. 72
Annan, Kofi 184 behaviour and worship, see life
anointing 6, 37, 40 and worship
anthropology 5, 6, 8, 117, 123 Bell, Catherine 6
Apostles 35, 36, 128 Benedict Xiy Pope 82
Apostles Creed 71 Benedictine Liturgical
'Apostolic Constitutions' 37 Conference 103
'Apostolic Tradition' 45-6, 49 Benedictines 89, 98, 100, 101,
Archbishop of Canterbury 205, 102, 103
206 benediction 63
Arrupe, Pedro 125 Berger, Teresa 97
Ash Wednesday 139 Bernini, Gianlorenzo 78
Assisi 105-6 Bibel und Liturgie (journal) 98,
Associated Parishes Movement 99
173 Bible 2, 3, 28-9, 41
226 Index

Bishop, Edmund 52, 100 Christ, see Jesus Christ

bishops 46-7, 48, 55, 105, 167 christening, see baptism
Bohm, Dominikus 95 Christening of the Pantheon 52
Book of Common Prayer 17, 52, Christianity
70, 71, 72, 73, 85, 115 apostolic period 36-46, 165-6
Borromeo, Charles 79, 108 Jewish influences 33-5,38,127-8
Bradshaw, Paul 45 legalization of 43, 46, 141
Breviary 62, 75, 76, 93, 104, and mystery cults 39, 40, 94,
107 129
Bruno, Giordano 67 and non-Christian religions
Bucer, Martin 69, 70, 71 81-2, 119, 207-10, 216
Buddhism 11, 210 Christmas 5, 38, 51, 63, 76, 111
Bugnini, Annibale 106 Chupungco, Anscar 132-3, 148-
9
Caeremoniale Episcoporum 77 Church
Callistus, Pope 165 architecture 42, 43, 47-8, 77-8,
Caloen, Gerard van 92 79, 95, 96,195
Calvin, John 23, 69, 70-1, 73, as body of Christ 12-13,15-18,
74 21-3, 86-7, 170-5, 184, 213
Candelaria, Michael 150 local and universal 20,105,183
Canisius, Peter 67 church attendance
Cantual of Mainz 81 demography and social
Caronti, Emanuele 101-2 trends 133, 204-5, 216
Casel, Odo 94, 97, 98 recent decline 196-8, 204-5
catacombs 42, 141 Church of England, see Anglicans
Catechesi tradendae 125 Cicognani, Gaetano 105, 106
catechumenate 49, 110 Clement Y Pope 143
Catherine of Siena 67 Clovis 56
Catholic Worker Movement Cluny, France 61
171 Code of Canon Law 14, 16
Centre de pastorale liturgique Collection of Psalms and
101 Hymns 85
Chair of Saint Peter 51 Common Lectionary 115
chant 5, 88-9, 92 Common Worship 115
Chant (CD by Benedictine Communion 55, 69, 83, 135,
monks of Silos) 5 136,205
1
Chantry priests' 65 lay participation 5, 62-3, 64,
Charlemagne 58, 59, 168 70-1, 81, 93, 110
Chaucer, Geoffrey 142 scriptural origins 36, 38
Chinese Rites Controversy The see also Eucharist
81-2, 119 communion of saints 141, 183
 Index 227

Communion Services 201, 202 Damasus I, Pope 41

community 21, 46, 87, 152-9, Day, Dorothy 97, 171
163-6, 175-80, 183-6 De Zan, Renato 29
care for the poor 165-8, 183, deacons and deaconesses 166
202 Dearmer, Percy 192
Compline 144 death, attitudes to 186-8
confession 17, 68 Decentius, Bishop of Gubbio 55,
Confirmation 6, 49, 110, 164 56
confraternities 64 Dedication of the Temple 35
Confucian tradition 81-2, 141 Devotio Moderna 66
Congregation for Divine diakonia 26, 44, 55, 166, 202
Worship 76, 111, 126, 146-7 Didache 37, 38
Congregation of Sacred Rites Didascalia Apostolorum 46
77 Dies Irae 187
Congres national des ouvres Discipline of the Sacraments 76
catholiques 91-2 Divine Office 77, 110
Congress of Ems 84-5 Divino Afflatu 93
Constantine 43, 47, 141, 167 Dix, Gregory 100
Consultation on Common Texts Dolger, Franz 94
114, 115 Dominicans 82
Cooke, Bernard 60 doxology 25, 34
Corinthians 115, 36 Duffy, Regis 169
Corinthians II 35, 165-6 Duploye, Pie 101
corporate worship 21, 152, 164- Dura Europas 42
5, 173 Dutch Liturgical Federation
and individualism 4, 12-13, 100
30, 152, 175
Corpus Christi 63, 81, 143 Easter 34, 38, 50, 76, 111
Council of Braga 59 Easter Vigil 50, 55, 84
Council of Rouen 63 Eastern churches 14, 26, 58-9,
Council of Trent 1, 67, 73-80, 202, 203
93, 109, 111, 145 Ecclesia in Africa 120
Cranmer, Thomas 65, 70, 71-3, ecumenism 1, 2, 3, 106, 114-16,
73 205-6, 208, 213
Crichton, James D. 101 Edict of Milan 43, 46
culture 117-20 Egan, John 173, 174
see also inculturation Egeria 54, 142
Cunningham, William 156 Eliot, T S. 31
Cyprian 41 Ellard, Gerald 103
Cyril 129, 130 Emmaus 36
Cyril of Jerusalem 49 Emperor Otto I 57
228 Index

English Language Liturgical festivals 5

Commission 116 pagan elements 51, 52
environment 182 First Vatican Council, Dogmatic
Ephemerides liturgicae 89 Constitution of the Church of
Ephesians 36 Christ 87
epiclesis 25, 26, 27 Fischer, Balthasar 99
Epiphany 51, 153 Fitzgerald, Michael 216
Episcopal Church 106, 115, 173 foot-washing 26, 40
Eucharist 44-5, 55, 165-6, 169, France 82, 83, 87-9, 96
182, 202 Solesmes 88, 89, 92
adoration and elevation of Franciscans 62, 63, 82
host 63, 64, 65, 79, 80, 81, Franco-Germanic liturgy 57,
143 58,59
institution of 26-7, 36, 38 funerals 187, 188
miracles 64, 65, 143
participation of the laity 4-5, Gallagher, Michael Paul 117-18,
50-1, 62-3, 68, 73, 74, 75, 121
93, 110 Gallen, John 114
Presence of Christ 2, 16, 19, Gallican rites 57, 58, 59, 82-3
21, 53, 70, 79, 81, 91, 112, Garcia, Samuel Ruiz 155
143, 191 Gaudium et Spes 131-2
in Protestantism 3, 67, 68, 70, Gbaya of Western Africa 210
85, 86, 168-9 Geertz, Clifford 117
Eucharistic Prayer 26, 27, 28-9, Genesis 120
44, 45, 46, 48-9, 53, 63, 72 Geneva 70, 71
consecration 26, 27, 28, 64-5, Gennep, Arnold van 5
71 Germany 81, 84, 85, 86
Evangelii nuntiandi 149, 150, Tubingen 86, 87, 170
160 Giruado, Cesare 26
evangelization 121, 124, 129 Gloria 81
Evening Prayer 22, 54, 72, 73, God
110, 128 as creator 24-5, 182
Evensong 22 dialogue with God 23-4
experimental worship 112-13 'distancing of God' 60-1, 62
Extraordinary Synod of Bishops immanence and transcendence
(1985) 125-6 27-8, 113, 183
Trinity 24-5
feast days 54 Gospel 122, 123, 124, 126, 127,
Feast of Tabernacles 35 186
feminist scholars 24 Gray, Donald 175-6
fermentum 55-6 Greek 41, 42, 127
 Index 229

Gregory of Nyssa 43 incarnation 120, 121, 125

Gregory Y Pope 58 incense 5
Gregory VII, Pope 61, 63, 67 inculturation 41-2, 48, 121-30,
Gregory XII, Pope 77 136-8
Gregory XVI, Pope 14 in multicultural contexts 132-6
Grimes, Ronald 6 Second Vatican Council 130-2
Guadalupe 154-5 India 135
Guardini, Romano 4, 94, 95, 96 initiation ceremonies 6, 7-8, 39,
Gueranger, Prosper 87, 88, 89, 40, 49-50, 164
93 Innocent I, Pope 55, 56
Gy, Pierre-Marie 101 Innocent III, Pope 62
Innocent X, Pope 82
Hammenstede, Albert 95 Institut Superieur de Liturgie 101
Hebert, A. Gabriel 172, 173 intercessory prayers 18-20, 73,
Hebrew words used in worship 110, 185
128 International Commission on
Hebrews 13 English in the Liturgy 114
Hellriegel, Martin 21, 103 International Consultation on
Henry Bradshaw Society 89 English Texts 114, 115
Henry II 58 Iraq 18-19
Herbert, A. Gabriel 163, 172 Islam
Herstelle 97, 98 and Christianity 207-9, 210
Herwegen, Ilefons 93, 94, 97, Hajj 11, 141
98
Herwegen Institute for the James 37
Promotion of Liturgical Jansenism 82-3, 84, 109
Studies 99 Japan 209
Hillenbrand, Reynold 103, 183 Jerusalem 34, 54
Hindus 135, 209, 210 Jesuits 77, 78, 82, 101, 119,
Holy Spirit 25, 26, 36, 122, 189 124, 125
Holy Week 54, 64, 144 Jesus Christ
house churches 42 central to liturgical worship
Hovda, Robert 173, 174, 175, 183
198 and culture 121, 123
Howell, Clifford 74, 80-1, 101 life and teaching 33-5, 163
Huck, Gabe 191 priesthood of 107, 158, 203-4
Hughes, Kathleen 201 as revealer of God 24, 25
hymn-singing 2, 3, 4, 54, 81, 85 see also Church; Eucharist
Jewish-Christian relationship
iconoclasm 112-13 14, 42, 100, 210
Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch 37 Joan of Arc 66, 67
230 Index

John the Baptist 51 Lennon, Richard G. 212

John Chrysostom 14, 49 Lent 3, 38, 50, 53, 54, 76, 111
John Paul II, Pope 120, 125, Lenz, Dom Desiderius 89
132, 205, 208 Leopold II, Grand Duke of
John XII, Pope 61 Tuscany 84
John XXIII, Pope 102, 106, 108, Lercaro, Giacomo 111
188 liberation theology 147, 151,
John's Gospel 35, 127 156
Judaism 1, 13, 25, 38 life and worship 18-21, 116,
Jewish origins of 163-4, 168-170, 172, 181, 189
Christianity 33-4, 128 see also community; social/
Jungmann, Josef Andreas 99 political concerns
Justin 43, 44, 45, 202 Lincoln, Abraham 18
litany 58, 59
Kassiepe, M. 96 Liturgiam authenticam 115,
Kiesgen, Agape 98 116
Kilmartin, Edward 26 'liturgical acculturation' 117
Kiss of Peace 50 liturgical calendar 51, 53-4, 76,
Klosterneuburg 99 77
Kurth, Godfried 92 liturgical congresses 105
Kyrie Eleison 58 liturgical history
Council of Trent 73-80, 93,109
La Maison-Dieu (journal) 101 early Church 13-14, 37, 39-46,
LaCugna, Catherine 24 129
language 9, 39 fourth century developments
Last Supper 35, 69, 100 46-56
Lateran Palace 54, 61 Medieval period 56-66
Lathrop, Gordon 182-3,188, 210 Reformation 67-73, 109
Latin America 149-159 seventeenth-nineteenth
Latin American Episcopal centuries 80-9
Conferences 149, 160 The Liturgical Movement 1-3,
Latin and vernacular 2, 6, 41-2, 15, 91-116
87, 101, 106, 107-8, 109, 129 Austria 98-99
and the Reformation 68, 69, Belgium 91, 92, 93, 98, 171
71, 72, 74, 75 Brazil 102
Lauds 128 France 96, 101
laying on of hands 34 Germany 93, 94-5, 96
leadership in the Church 198- Netherlands 99-100
203, 211 Second Vatican Council 3, 9,
Lectionary 28, 53-4, 62, 111, 15-16, 17, 19-21, 106-14,
114 130-2, 198-9
 Index 231

and popular religion 145-7 Maria Laach 89, 93, 94, 96, 99,
worship and culture 117, 123 100, 102, 105
Spain 102 Mark 14
Switzerland 96 Mark's Gospel 34, 36, 127
United Kingdom 100-1 Marsili, Salvatore 148
USA 98, 102-3, 171 Martindale, C. C. 101
Liturgische Zeitschrift (journal) Mary 58, 63, 144, 152
98 Mass 1-2, 35, 65-6, 74, 75, 76,
Liturgisches Leben (journal) 98 95, 145, 190, 201
liturgy dialogue Mass 96
definition 13-17 funeral Mass 187
Scriptural basis 13, 29 'hearing' Mass 80-1
Liturgy Constitution, see Masses for the dead 65, 66
Sacrosanctum Concilium private Masses 56, 62, 63, 110
Liturgy of the Hours 29, 64, 88, as sacrifice 64, 68, 76
111 simultaneous Masses 83, 110
Liturgy, Life and Worship Tridentine Mass 198
(journal) 101 see also Eucharist
Liturgy of the World 180-1 Masson, Joseph 123
Lohr, Aemiliana 97 Mathis, Michael 103
Lonergan, Bernard 118 matrimony 6
Lord's Supper, see Eucharist Matthew 34, 35, 36, 127
Lugano 105 Maximos iy Melkite Patriarch
Luke 9, 36, 127, 157 of Antioch 108
Luther, Martin 23, 67-68, 70, Mediator Dei (encyclical) 15,
74, 109, 143-4, 168-9, 185 104
The Babylonian Captivity of Medieval popular religion 142-5
the Church' 68 Medjugorje 146
Lutheran Book of Worship 115 Meister Eckhart 66
Lutheran World Federation Methodists 85
132, 133 Methodius 129, 130
Lutherans 106, 132, 135 Metz, Johannes Baptist 25
Metzger, Fritz 96
McElligott, Bernard 100 Mexico 154-5
Mclntyre, James 2 Meyer, Hans Bernard 167
McManus, William 201 Micah 170
Maggiolini, Alessandro 196, 197 Michel, Virgil 102, 103, 170,
magic 66 171, 173
Magnificat 9, 157 Michler, Martinho 102
Malachi 37 Middle East 19
Maredsous 89, 92 Milan 79
232 Index

miracles 64, 65 ordination 6, 45, 68

Missal 45, 62, 75, 76, 104 ordination of women 202-3
missionaries 81, 82, 119, 124, Ordo Romanus 153
125, 129
Mithras 39, 129 Palm Sunday 139
Mohlberg, Cunibert 94 Parish Communion Movement
Mohler, Johann Adam 86, 87 171, 172
monastic reforms 61 parishes 56
Mont Cesar 89, 91 Parsch, Pius 99
Montserrat 102 participation of the laity 3, 113,
Morning Prayer 21, 54, 72, 73, 142, 152-3, 206-7
110, 128 at Communion 4-5, 62-3, 68,
Moser, Karl 96 73, 74, 93, 110
music 80-1, 92, 107, 113 Passover 5, 24, 35, 36
Music and Liturgy (journal) Pastoral Letter: Economic
101 Justice For All 180
Muslims, see Islam Pastoral Liturgical Center,
mystery 27, 28 Barcelona 102
mystery religions 38-9 Patristic tradition 2, 3, 88
Mystici Corporis Christi Patterson, John 106
(encyclical) 15, 87, 104 Paul 15, 35, 36, 127, 165, 166
Paul VI, Pope 9, 108, 109, 111,
Nairobi Statement on Worship 149, 205
and Culture 132-3 Peace of Constantine 43
Nativity of Mary 58 Penance 16, 79, 82, 142
Neander, Johann August Pentecost 34, 35, 122
Willhelm 86 Perret, Auguste 96
Neunheuser, Burkhard 66, 95 Phan, Peter 134, 135, 193-4
'new age' 210 Pharisees 34
New Capitalism 177,178,179,195 Philip 36
Nicea 38 pilgrimages 11-12, 80,141-2, 146
Nicene Creed 58, 200 Pinsk, Johannes 96
North American Academy of Pipin the Short 59
Liturgy 3, 114, 191 Pius y Pope 62, 75
Northern Ireland 18, 156 Pius VI, Pope 84
nuns and the liturgical move- Pius X, Pope 92, 93
ment 97-8 Pius XII, Pope 15, 87, 106
Pontifical 62
Odilienberg 105 The Pontifical Biblical
Orate Fratres (journal) 2, 3, 97, Commission 29, 125
98, 103, 171, 172 Popes, immorality of 61
 Index 233

popular religion 20, 20-1, 63-4, Roman Martyrology 77

83, 139-50 Roman Pontifical 77
Latin America 149-59 Roman Rite 6, 52-53, 54, 55,
Middle Ages 142-5 56-9, 61, 129, 130, 132
and political power 154-7 Roman Ritual 77, 131
postmodernism 193-5, 196, 199 Romans 13
preaching 2, 76, 85, 110, 200 Romero, Gilbert 159
presbyters 48, 55 Roncalli, Angelo, see John
Presentation in the Temple 58 XXIII, Pope
processions 54-5, 64, 80, 143, 144 roodscreens 63, 78
Prosper of Aquitaine 164 rosary 2, 64, 140
Protestantism 1, 2, 3, 67-73, rubrics 1, 74
115-16, 145 Rule of Saint Benedict 40
psalms 54, 64
Tseudo-Hippolytus' 45 Sabbath 34, 38
Puritans 6 Sacra Tridentina synodus 93
Sacramentary 62, 111
quincinera rituals 6 sacraments 14, 16, 68, 83-4, 94,
Quinonez, Francisco 76 110
see also under specific names
Radcliffe, Timothy 210-11 e.g. baptism
Rahner, Karl 137, 181-2 Sacred Congregation of Rites 75
Ramadan 5 Sacred Heart 83
Ratzinger, Joseph 94, 126-7, 198 Sacrosanctum Concilium 15,
Reformation 2,14, 67-73,109,168 16, 17, 20, 109-11, 130-1,
English Reformation 71-3 145, 147
Reinhold, Hans Anscar 96-7 Sailer, Johann Michael 86, 87
Revelation 27 St Peter's Basilica 78
Ricci, Matteo 81, 119 saints, cult of 68, 141, 142, 143,
Ricci, Scipione 83, 84 151, 159
Rite of Christian Initiation of Saliers, Don 184, 185
Adults 111 salvation 23, 24, 25
'rites of passage' 5, 6, 8 Sanctus 81
ritual 4, 5-13 Sartore, Domenico 139, 148
Ritual ofAlet 82 Savanarola, Girolamo 67
Rivista liturgica (journal) 101 Schillebeeckx, Edward 25
Roguet, M 101 Schott, Dom Anselm 89
Roman Canon 48-9, 72, 76 Schuster, Ildebrando 101
Roman Curia 62, 75, 107 Schwartz, Diobald 70
Roman Empire 167-8 Schwartz, Rudolf 95
Roman liturgy 52-5, 56 Scriptures, see Bible
234 Index

Searle, Mark 6 Thomas a Kempis 66

Second Vatican Council 3, 9, 15- Thomas Aquinas 202
16, 17, 19-21, 106-14, 130-2, Timothy I 27, 37
198-9 Timothy II 37
and popular religion 145-7 transubstantiation 68
worship and culture 117, 123 Trier 99
semiotics 6 Trinity 24-5
Senn, Frank 73, 199 Trolese, F 140
Sennett, Richard 177, 178 Tubingen School 170
September 11, 2001 155-6 Turner, Victor 5
Septuagint 13
Sergius I, Syrian Pope 58 Underbill, Evelyn 172, 173, 179
Shorter, Alyward 121
Skelly, Michael 181-2 Valenziano, Crispino 125
Slavs 129-30 veneration of ancestors 81-2
social sciences 6, 8, 8-9, 119 Vespers 22, 89, 128
social/political concerns 19-20, vestments 2, 35, 69
152-7, 171-80, 190, 214 Victor, Pope 41
Societas Liturgica 3,100,114, 201 Vietnam 134-135
Spellman, Francis 107-8
Stational Liturgy 48, 53-4, 55, Wagner, Johannes 99
57, 167 Week of Prayer for Christian
Strasbourg 70, 71 Unity 206, 213
Studia Liturgica (journal) 114 Wepion 98
Sunday worship 43,44,47, 70, 76, Wesley, John 85
80,83,85,110-11,167,197,215 Wesley, Charles 85
Surtees Society 89 Wessenberg, Ignaz Heinrich
symbols 3-5, 10, 11, 16, 28 von 85
Synod of Clermont 59 White, James 112
Synod of Frankfurt 129 Wicca 210
Synod of Pistoia 83, 84, 85, 109 Wintersig, Athanasius 97
Wolter, Maurus and Placidus
tabernacles for the reserved 89
sacrament 79 women 97-8, 157-9, 206-7
Taft, Robert 129, 136, 137 World Council of Churches 126
Tenrikyo 209 Worship (journal) 2, 3, 103, 175
Tertullian 40, 41 Wright, Frank Lloyd 193
Theatines 77
Theodore of Mopsuestia 49 Zairean Rite 133
Third German Liturgical Zwingli, Ulrich 69-70, 74
Conference 4 'Canon of the Mass' 69