Sexuality battles may dominate the denominational stage, but the biggest plot playing out in many congregations is the drama called “Worship Wars.” Combatants enlist into either the “traditional” or “contemporary” infantry corps and they engage in discord-to-discord combat. Most of the churches untouched by such wars are shrugging off a quiet exodus of congregational refugees heading to churches where the enjoyment factor runs high.
With ecclesiastical pride, we Presbyterians respond:
• “We worship with good music,”
• “We don’t sing those repetitive ditties,”
• “We’re more interested in glorifying God than counting heads,”
• “We’re into worship, not entertainment.”
Wake up. The day of the ditties is long gone. Most of those churches down the street are worshiping God, singing sophisticated music, expressing theologically substantial lyrics. They’re just not singing German chorales. They have dared tamper with the “approved” music of the ages.
Years ago an elderly pastor told me how the three-four time music signature had about it a “divine principle” — God’s approval. It had been ordained by God to teach Trinitarian theology. This wonderful saint was still in good voice, so he proceeded to walk me page by page through a hymnal he was pitching to publishers, in which a couple hundred familiar hymns had been rescored in three-four time. It worked great for “Amazing Grace.” Most others sang like a Strauss waltz accompanied by a calliope. They were awful.
What better theological justification could one give for preference of one musical style than to claim it has Trinitarian sanction? But the eclectic God appears to enjoy a broader variety of styles than just that one. From chants to African spirituals, from Latin beat to a cappella Psalms, from Iona to Taizé, from Bernard of Clairvaux to Fanny Crosby, from Bach to rock — God inhabits the praises of God’s people in worship, regardless of form.
We struggle to accept that and for good reason. We have experienced God’s pleasure, as the Flying Scotsman, Eric Liddell, testified in “Chariots of Fire.” When we gather for worship we want to experience that again.
How do we shape worship so as to experience the pleasure of God? The best way we know is to worship in the way we have worshiped in the past that has made us feel most connected to God. We may have experienced it during a choral presentation of Handel’s “Messiah.” Maybe it happened amid a handholding, round-the-campfire sing-along of “Kum ba Yah.” It may have resulted at a performance of the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir or at a Michael W. Smith concert.
But the way that’s touched us most deeply in the past is the same way we tend to think that everyone ought to be worshiping week after week. We promote such a style because we genuinely want others to experience the spiritual enrichment we think is most accessible. It’s worked for me; why not for others, too?
Add to that the fact that, for many Presbyterians, our connecting with God has stressed order over ardor, reverence over celebration. We know that worship ought not resemble a Mardi Gras.
It need not resemble Ash Wednesday either — at least most worship days of the year.
If we want to invite all to glorify God, if we really want a church as diverse as the world around, a church as welcoming as Jesus, we can start by inviting folks to worship in God-glorifying ways that will also invite them to enjoy God, indeed, “fully to enjoy” God, as the Larger Catechism teaches, both now and forever.
— JHH
