One of the issues I’ve most frequently bumped up against in my relatively young ministry is that of the use of ritual in worship. To clarify, the arguments against ritual have normatively been aimed at use of specific liturgical elements—responsive readings, recited creeds, written prayers, et cetera (rarely, if ever, has anyone groaned about lighting candles, processing the Bible, or offering a benediction at the conclusion of worship—though these are ritual too). All the same I’m sympathetic to those who are hesitant to embrace ritual, because I’ve been there. I’m well aware that it can feel cold, rigid, or uninspired. I realize that, at times, it seems like dropping formalities in favor of extemporaneity can facilitate a feeling of “Spirit-led” worship.
Yet the problems so many Christians have with ritual stem, in my opinion, from a lack of understanding about what it is. Ritual is, in reality, just a particular way of doing something. It’s a customary practice. But we hear the term, and our minds often gravitate toward the Catholic or Orthodox churches (or to some pockets of mainline Protestantism) and the formatted, regimented styles of worship they typically employ. But the fact is that most every congregation of any denomination has a set way—even if very generalized—of doing what they do. Can you count on the pastor coming by to shake your hand before the service starts? If it always happens, it’s ritual. Do you know when the offering is going to be collected? That’s because it’s ritual. Are a certain number of songs going to be sung? Again, ritual.
And ritual isn't confined to the Church; it can be found in myriad spheres of human existence. From commencement ceremonies to military funerals to NASCAR races, life is lived in ritual. Graduates must wear special garments, walk across the stage in a certain direction, and then turn their tassels; soldiers follow a mandatory order in folding, saluting, and presenting Old Glory; and race car drivers know it’s time to go when the cry goes forth to “start your engines” and time to stop when they see the checkered flag. Simply stated: ritual has a way of ordering life. It has a way of marking particular moments. And it has a way of helping us to know when and where we’re going. For these reasons, it’s important.
Considering this, we see that ritual can be important in the life of the Church as well. Ritual can steer us. It can point us toward the truths that are greater than us: those things that our finite minds struggle to adequately express or explain. It doesn’t necessarily give us the answers, and isn’t an answer in and of itself—but it does have remarkable potential to help us see the One in whom our answers lie. Because in the rituals of the Church, particularly liturgical practices, we tell and re-tell God’s story: a story of the creative and redemptive grace that draws all things to God’s self. In the baptismal rite, for example, we speak of God’s gracious initiative that incorporates us into the body of Christ. And when we gather at the Table, we speak of the sacrifice of Christ which redeems and nourishes us––making all things new. Rituals like these don’t effect our salvation. But they do re-present the loving acts of a loving God who more than anything desires life in abundance for the whole of God’s creation.
The question, then, is really about the necessity of ritual. That is: Must one observe certain rituals in certain ways and at certain times in order to faithfully communicate the good news of God’s love in Christ? Surely the answer is no, because no two people understand their faith in exactly the same way. If that be the case, why must they approach their faith in exactly the same way? Truly, they shouldn't.
Rather, one must move toward an understanding of who God is (and who one is in God) in a way that nourishes one’s own spirit. For some, this means highly structured worship wherein everything has a place and time. For others, this means less formality and greater flexibility. For still others, it’s something in between or elsewhere. And it isn't our job to say which is correct. What falls to us is to remember that God’s equally present in every scenario, and to be grateful that God speaks to each of us in ways that we can understand.
May we open our hearts to listen, and to worship in spirit and in truth.
Rather, one must move toward an understanding of who God is (and who one is in God) in a way that nourishes one’s own spirit. For some, this means highly structured worship wherein everything has a place and time. For others, this means less formality and greater flexibility. For still others, it’s something in between or elsewhere. And it isn't our job to say which is correct. What falls to us is to remember that God’s equally present in every scenario, and to be grateful that God speaks to each of us in ways that we can understand.
May we open our hearts to listen, and to worship in spirit and in truth.
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