The dangerous work of worship
January 12, 2025 - March 2, 2025
Liturgy comes from leitourgia, an old Greek term that refers to work, or service, performed by the wealthy on behalf of “the people” or the state. It could also refer to the work of the priest on behalf of the people. But it has come to mean, colloquially, that liturgy is “the work of the people,” meaning that the congregation has a stake in worship, a part to play; their engagement is necessary for worship to... “work.” It can, then, feel very internal to the church’s life – something we do in here, with each other, not for public consumption. But what we do in here has radical implications for our way of being out there. In worship, through liturgy, we are telling and recapitulating God’s own story, and our story of with-God-ness, through word and motion and music and connection and ritual. And the church’s story is at odds with other stories the culture is telling. It’s subversive, radical, and even dangerous to tell our story just this way.
Arrive. King David, having recovered the Ark of the Covenant, dances his way home. He is essentially bringing God’s Presence back to Israel, and his enthusiastic showing-up dance is unnerving to some (his wife!) who wish for more decorum, more “demure”, in worship. But it matters how we arrive for worship – do we bring our whole (exposed) selves, or do we hold back? Additionally, there are many “Psalms of Ascent” in Israel’s hymnal, designated for climbing the temple mount in Jerusalem – meaning that our ancestors gave some thought to how we gather for worship. As do we. (parts of worship: video prologue, welcome, query)
Pray. Bowing our head, bending our knee, pledging our allegiance – this is the subversive work of prayer. Corporate prayer in worship is a stay against idolatry. We remember again that our time here is for the re-ordering of our lives: “God is God, and we are not. (And nothing else is God, either.)” The counter-narratives say that our lives depend on capitalism, work, the military, government, our own capacities. Even the simplicity of the Lord’s Prayer says otherwise.
Read Scripture. This is how we introduce “trouble” into the narrative of worship. The stories our ancestors told assert that “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” – i.e. that God gets everything God wants. It does not always appear to be true in our experience. And so every Sunday the text invites us to wrestle with tradition, promises made but not yet fulfilled. We let it trouble us, and sometimes let the tension stand, refusing the easy resolution that condescends both to us and to the text. (Also, sometimes scripture pisses people off.)