Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Glory to God in the Highest: The Decline of the Gloria In Excelsis, and a Plan for Recovery

I said in one of my earlier posts that the Sanctus might be the single-most ignored piece of liturgy -- that is, the liturgical unit most likely to be altered or replaced with a more recent hymn. While the Sanctus finds its roots in the fourth century and is pulled directly from Scripture, Luther was willing to shift the hymn (placing it after the Verba [Words of Institution]) in the Formula Mass and rewrote the piece for his German Mass. Growing up in the United Methodist Church, we (almost) never sang the Sanctus. I've been to a service where the unending hymn was always omitted.

Despite all of this, I have to revise my earlier statement. The Sanctus may be frequently ignored, but the Gloria in Excelsis is just as neglected.

Like the Sanctus, the Gloria can be traced back to the fourth century. Its inclusion within the Divine Service is attributed to Gregory the Great. By the elventh century, it had become the norm for Sunday and festival services. And, much like the Sanctus, the Gloria unites East and West (though certain Western Rites used in Milan, Spain, and the British Isles, the Gloria was not the only canticle employed after the Kyrie).

In its place, the Lutheran Book of Worship permitted the use of a new hymn, "Worthy is Christ," which is more commonly known as "This is the Feast."

And here I find myself torn. I truly love "This is the Feast." It is a great hymn which highlights the eschatological implications of the Eucharist. But, Pfatteicher points out, it was never intended to replace the Gloria in Excelsis. He writes:
The notes on the Liturgy give clear preference to the greater Gloria as the Hymn of Praise...".The Lutheran Book of Worship also has provided an alternative hymn of praise, especially appropriate for the Sundays of Easter, Christ the King, and All Saints's Day. [Emphasis added.]
What are we to do? "This is the Feast" has become such a part of life in many ELCA parishes that it would be impractical to abandon it. For those of us who have come to the Lutheran tradition since 1978, either through birth or conversion, "This is the Feast" is a staple of Lutheran identity. And it should be. It's a truly wonderful hymn, and I dare not dream of abandoning it.

But we should also not abandon the Gloria. Through it, we join the Church and the choirs of angels in praising the Triune God.

For the past year or so, I've been toying around with the idea of relocating "This is the Feast" from the post-Kyrie position to the Offertory. In its current place, "This is the Feast" undercuts its central thrust. We sing, "This is the feast of victory for our God," and then wait through several readings, a sermon, the Creed, and prayers before getting to anything involving food. However, if we place it at the Offertory, as the Service transitions from Word to Table, it makes sense to stress the shift towards festal language. Doing so would also underscore that the Offertory is part of the Eucharist -- that the collection is not about filling the parish's budget gaps but our offering to God in thanksgiving that we might more fully be the Body of Christ in and for the world.

Having said several critical things about worship at Synod Assembly, let me now offer some affirmation: on the first day, we used "This is the Feast" as the Offertory Hymn. It worked wonderfully. And immediately afterwards, we made Eucharist and partook of the Feast.

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I am deeply indebted to Philip Pfatteicher's Commentary on the Lutheran Book of Worship for the research in this post.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

The Church Is Not Glocal -- It's Catholic, Pt. III

Part Three of Three
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Savior of the World
One of my mentors, a pastor whom I greatly respect and admire, once passed off a change in denominational polity as "mere semantics." With all due respect to my mentor, semantics are vital to understanding who we are. The difference between different words is a difference in how we think about ourselves. Having bishops instead of presidents may seem inconsequential, but it is a mark which separates the Church from the Lion's Club. Having a diocese or synod rather than a region distinguishes the Body of Christ from a nation or a business.

Let me be clear. Bishops and diocese are not what makes us the Church. We are the Church because we are an in-breaking of the coming Kingdom of God, called and united by the Holy Spirit, baptized into Christ's Death and Resurrection, and upheld as the Body of Christ through the Blessed Sacrament. If our steeples crumbled, our vestments rotted, and our lexicon vanished, we would still be the Church. A rose by any other name, as it were.

But our language should further differentiate us. We participate in God's creative act by giving names, by altering the fabric of our culture.

Language is a key part of culture. It distinguishes one people from another. People I interact with know I am from Georgia because I occasionally slip out a "y'all" or an "ain't." When I visited London, they knew I was an American because I was surprised when my meal came with "chips" and not a bag of Lay's. In Germany, they knew I was an anglophone because I paused before ordering a Bratwurst, searching for the words.

Language not only differentiates between cultures but also frames the way we think about certain subjects. For instance, Oxford historian Chris Wickham once remarked that the christological debates which so occupied the East, with Greek's multiple terms for varying modes of being, made less sense in Latin, and so the West largely ignored the subject. Or, more broadly, think of the debates which rage over vocabulary choice and even punctuation. We make sense of each other and the world through our language.

To quote Toliken, "[E]ach langauge represents a different vision of life."

Wall Street has a term for the intersection of the global and the local, the universal and the particular: "glocal." Wikipedia offers this history of the term:
The term first appeared in the late 1980s in articles by Japanese economists in the Harvard Business Review. According to the sociologist Roland Robertson, who is credited with popularizing the term, glocalization describes the new outcome of local conditions towards global pressures. At a 1997 conference on "Globalization and Indigenous Culture," Robertson said that glocalization "means the simultaneity -- the co-presence -- of both universalizing and particularizing tendencies."
How does a multinational corporation succeed in a new market foreign to the corporation's origin? By commodifying the local culture. And so, at Dunkin' Donuts in South Korea, you see bean paste donuts. Next door at the McDonald's, you see burgers with kimchi.

Let me say here that this process is not inherently bad. One of the best Italian dinners I've ever had was at a culinary school in Daegu, South Korea. Some of the best barbecue I've ever had was a Korean-fusion place (with kimchi cole slaw) in an Atlanta suburb. The process can be reversed in which local businesses utilize new, international tastes rather than multinational companies taking advantage of local idiosyncrasies.

So if "glocalization" is not inherently bad, why do I resist the term so vehemently?

When we talk about the Church, we have a language for describing and making sense of what it means to be within the Body of Christ. We have a way of thinking that differentiates us from the international companies and non-profits and which sets us apart as the ecclesia. And so, when we talk about our concern for the local and the universal, we have a term for it. We are catholic. We confess to believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church -- not a glocal Church. We have our own way of thinking about what we do, and if we start borrowing from Wall Street, then we risk becoming a multinational non-governmental organization rather than the catholic Church.

Adopting business terminology to describe the nature of the Church means that we are letting business, rather than Scripture, the Tradition, or Jesus, frame the debate around what it means to be the Body of Christ and what it means to worship the Risen Lord.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

The Church Is Not Glocal -- It's Catholic (Interlude: Reconstruction)

Part Two and a Half of Three
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How might the catholic liturgy emphasize the multicultural character of the entire Church?

As I've mentioned in my previous two posts, the liturgy does this inherently. In the Divine Service, we read from the same Scripture, pray the same prayers, sing the same hymns,* confess the same Creeds, share in the one Baptism, and partake of Christ's Body, the same we have since the apostles (with, granted, some development, especially in the fourth through sixth centuries). The liturgy of the Church catholic transcends temporality, ethnicity, and linguistics.

But suppose a parish wanted to underscore this multiculturalism? What would I recommend instead of the "glocal" service we used at Synod Assembly?

Two suggestions:

First, if a parish is already multicultural or multi-lingual, then using the native languages and rituals of its members should already be the norm. At Candler, where we had students from various parts of Europe and Africa as well as a large number of South Korean students, readings and hymns were often done in the languages of our student body. Every week, the worshiping body was encouraged to pray the Lord's Prayer in their native tongue. O how marvelous it was to hear Portuguese, Korean, German, and countless other languages all at once! One of our Systematic Theology professors, a German Lutheran, frequently presided at the Eucharist during our Friday service. He would offer the Aaronic Benediction auf Deutsch. We all knew exactly what he was saying and could fully share in the beauty of this ancient blessing in a modern language.

In the context of Synod Assembly, then, this would mean inviting members from around the Synod to lead the liturgy in Swahili, Spanish, Korean, German, and the numerous other languages we utilize in worship -- not just for the readings (which we did), but for the prayers, blessings, the Sanctus, and the various other parts of the liturgy.

Secondly, for parishes which are less diverse, incorporate multiple languages into major feast days, especially for Pentecost.

At Pentecost, we celebrate the Holy Spirit's work among us, uniting us into the Church. Everybody on that day heard the Gospel in their native tongue, and the destruction caused at Babel was undone. How appropriate, then, to incorporate multiple languages in worship during this feast?

Here is my humble proposal, along with a few guiding principles:

First, ensure that readers are as near to fluent as possible for their assigned readings. Native, fluent, or at least conversant, is preferable. Small mistakes in linguistics can be funny or they can be horribly offensive.

Second, if feasible, unite with another parish which worships in another language. O swap pastors for the Sunday. If your parish hosts a community which worships in a different language, hold a single service. If there are multiple small parishes worshiping in different languages, try a common service. In doing so, the service actually becomes multicultural rather than multi-linguistic.

Third, never do something in a foreign language that leaves most worshipers out in the cold. Provide a translation. If you're going to read a text or preach in Swedish, make sure that the Korean church you've invited can actually follow what you're saying. The point of this service is to unite the languages, as at Pentecost, not to confuse them, as at Babel. Remember what St. Paul said about speaking in tongues.

Fourth, add a note in the bulletin which identifies each language and explain why it's being used. Why Spanish? Why Korean? Why Urdu?

As to the liturgy itself:

  • Invocation and Confession: Latin
  • Assurance of Pardon: Native language of most worshipers -- It is fitting that this part of the liturgy, the Good News of forgiveness and reconciliation, be understood by all in attendance. If the pastor is capable, repeat it in the native tongue of all in worship. If conducting a bi- or tri-lingual service, repeat in both or all three tongues.
  • Kyrie: If possible, in Greek or Latin. If not, petitions in the native language of most worshipers, response in Greek. Or, 
  • Gloria: Latin
  • Collect: Salutation in Latin (Dominus vobiscum and Oremus), prayer in native language of most worshipers
  • First Lesson: Prominent language in the area, with a translation for those in worship. In Atlanta, for instance, this might mean reading a text in any number of foreign languages. Other places, this might mean Spanish.
  • Psalm: Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, sung by the choir -or- a setting for the Psalm in a local prominent language
  • Second Lesson: Prominent language in the area, and again with a translation.
  • Gospel Lesson: Native language of most worshipers. If two or more parishes have come together for a multi-lingual service, then read the lesson in as many languages as are present.
  • Homily: Native language of most worshipers. I know of a small bi-lingual parish in Germany that translates the homily from German into English and provides a physical copy to those who need it. If there is someone capable of providing an accurate translation, then by all means, do this.
  • Nicene Creed: Invite each person to confess their faith in their native tongue.
  • Prayers of Intercession: Native language of most worshipers, but either a) respond with the Greek Kyrie eleison or invite each worshiper to respond "Lord have mercy" in their native language.
  • Offertory Hymn: An offertory hymn taken from another place, perhaps across the globe. Sung in its original language.
  • Eucharist: In the native language of most worshipers, with the Sanctus taken from another culture. There are many beautiful settings written in Russian, for instance. It is fitting that parish give thanks to God through the Eucharist as they are able -- in their native language.
  • Lord's Prayer: Invite each worshiper to pray in their native language.
  • Agnus Dei: Another language, perhaps the same one used for the Sanctus
  • Distribution: If possible, have those serving at table distribute the Bread and Chalice in their native tongue.
  • Distribution Hymns: Appropriate hymns taken from other cultures and sung as they were written.
  • Benediction: In its original language. If the Aaronic Blessing, then Hebrew. Others may be done in Greek or Latin. Or, a language significant to the parish and denomination. For instance, there are many Lutheran churches which were founded as Swedish, Norwegian, or German. A return to the parish's roots is more than appropriate.
  • Dismissal: Spanish. An odd choice, but as it is a descendant of Latin, it demonstrates the continued development of languages from the time after Pentecost to the present day. It underscores the continued development of the liturgy from the languages of the Mediterranean to the global diversity of the Church today.

Now, Ite, missa est. Deo gratias.

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*I'm thinking of the Psalms, the Gospel Canticles, and the Sanctus and Agnus Dei. Other hymns, of course, demonstrate the great diversity of Christ's Church across history and varying cultures.

Monday, June 8, 2015

The Church Is Not Glocal -- It's Catholic, Pt. II

Part Two of Three
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Yesterday, I wrote about cultural commodification in the name of "multicultural" worship. Today, I want to think through the disservice we do to ourselves through the same process. In our attempts to incorporate new cultural material into the liturgy, we often replace important parts of the liturgy with something unrelated. It's as though Monty Python took over the liturgy...

The tendency is to remove specific parts of the liturgy, such as the Gloria in excelsis or the Sanctus (which might be the most frequent victim), and replace them with generic hymns. I've already mentioned the "Hispanic Creed." During the same service at the Assembly, we replaced the Sanctus with a similar(ish) Swedish hymn:
You are holy, you are whole.
You are always ever more than we understand. You are always at hand.
Blessed are you coming near. Blessed are you coming hear
To your church in wine and bread, raised from soil, raised from dead. 
You are holy, you are wholeness,
You are present. Let the cosmos praise you, Lord!
Sing hosanna in the highest!
Sing hosanna! Sing hosanna to our God!
At issue here is not the use of a Swedish hymn (though, again, sung in English) but substituting the Ordinary forms of the liturgy for that which is neither Proper nor, to borrow a term, Extraordinary.

Now, when I use the terms Ordinary, Proper, and Extraordinary, I am borrowing from the Rev. Dr. Clay Schmit's Sent and Gathered, a book on "missional" worship. In the catholic liturgy, the Ordinary is that which is used week in and week out in the Divine Service. Certain things never change:

  • We gather in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
  • We begin the Eucharist with the Sursum Corda and sing the Sanctus.
  • We follow the Eucharistic Prayer with the Lord's Prayer.
  • We sing the Agnus Dei.

Then, there is that which changes based on the season or given feast/fast -- the Proper. That is, parts of the liturgy are proper to the day and the season:

  • We pray a Collect based on the themes of the liturgical calendar.
  • We read different lections based on the time of year.
  • The Preface in the Eucharistic Prayer changes based on the same calendar.

Rev. Schmit adds to these basic categories that which is proper to a given place -- the Extraordinary. For instance:

  • Various paraments and vestments might reflect the symbolic language of a given culture -- we see these distinction between East and West.
  • Certain rituals may be idiomatic to a local parish or group. Ed Philips told my Intro to Worship class once of a parish where the congregants sat after the dismissal and watched the acolyte extinguish the candles. There was nothing particularly theological about this act at first; it was just a way of appreciating the child's service in worship.
  • Musical settings are entirely culturally dependent. Instrumentation, rhythm, and other aspects are determined by local influence.
And here is the rub. Adopting various Extraordinary forms of worship from other cultures may emphasize the inherently multicultural nature of catholic liturgy (again, assuming that we do so in cultural sensitive and informed ways). But we must also keep in mind the Ordinary. (I must admit, I likely have a broader definition of the Ordinary than Rev. Schmit.)

Catholic worship does certain things. In the Creed, we confess a common and shared faith. In the so-called "Hispanic" creed, we confess what a handful of authors believed and forced on us without warning. There is no time to reflect on what we are being asked to affirm, and we are being asked to confess something which is not held in common with the entire catholic Church. If we were to confess the Apostles' Creed in Spanish, we would be affirming the Christian faith as handed down from the earliest Church. Instead, we are confessing an incomplete (though, thankfully not heretical) quasi-faith.

Likewise, when we replace the Sanctus with something else, we are no longer joining in the hymn of the entire Church and the hosts of heaven. The Sanctus, as it has been received, echoes the cries of the angels Isaiah saw around the heavenly throne and the shouts of those who greeted Jesus in the streets of Jerusalem. Even when we make small changes (such as "blessed is the one who comes in your name,") we are steering away from that which the Church holds in common and, despite our best intentions, actually becoming less inclusive.

The hymn becomes less inclusive because it cease to be what it is: the hymn sung by Christians across the generations. The hymn shared between the Church and the celestial choirs. The cries of the angelic hosts ministering to God in Heaven. The shouts of Judaeans greeting the triumphal Davidic King and Messiah. The hymn which has been utilized by the Church for this purpose since the fifth century. The hymn which unites us all.

And so the hymn we sung instead of the Sanctus, while a decent enough hymn in its own way (if not a bit cheesy), and more than adequate for use in worship, is not up to the task of replacing the Sanctus.

By way of example, imagine two scenarios:
You are at the Olympics, and your nation's athlete has just taken gold. The athlete approaches the podium and she is handed your nation's flag. They place the gold medal around her neck and begin to play...a national folk song. Now, this song is not necessarily bad. In fact, it might even be quite beautiful. But it is not the anthem of your nation -- not the song that unites people from every corner of the land, the song that you grew up singing before sporting events and on national holidays. It serves a different purpose and undermines the moment of national unity during the medal ceremony.
Or...
You are at a parish council meeting and the session is about to begin. The council president suggests that the meeting should open with the Lord's Prayer, printed on the agenda. And so everybody reverently bows their head, looks down at the agenda, and begins to pray, "Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open...." Again, this is not a bad prayer -- quite the contrary. But it is not the Lord's Prayer, that which Christ commanded the disciples to pray.
Our liturgy has taken on a specific shape and has a certain narrative flow to it. The various elements serve specific functions which contribute to the overall narrative of the liturgy. After the readings and the homily, when we stand to confess our faith, it is the common Christian faith of the entire Church catholic which we are affirming. When we join in that glorious unending hymn, it is the common song of angels and humans that we are singing. In various tongues, rhythms, and styles, these elements must remain catholic.

There is room for change and development in the liturgy. There is room for freedom. But this freedom must be acted upon carefully, deliberately, and intelligently. Even within the Eucharistic Prayer, that most vital and sacred of Christian traditions, there is room for variety and change. But these changes must be acted upon with great care. The Anamnesis, our remembrance of Christ's Passion and Resurrection and our stated reason for offering our thanks and praise, can be re-worded or expanded, but it can never be for anything less than God's salvific acts culminating in the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection of our Lord Christ.

The Creeds may be re-translated, spoken, sung, or chanted in a variety of different languages. But they must remain the common confession of faith handed down across the years and held in common by the entire Church.

The Sanctus may be set to a different tune, the language may be updated, it can be translated in to different languages, but it can never be anything less than the unending hymn that the Church shares with the host of heaven.

So, if we are going to utilize languages and songs from various cultures, we must do so in a way that is sensitive -- both to the culture from which the material is lifted and to the catholic liturgy into which it is being placed.

The Church Is Not Glocal -- It's Catholic, pt. I

Part One of Three (Probably)
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I just spent the weekend at Synod Assembly: three full days of Lutherans, workshops, and worship.

Synodical/diocesan/conference meetings can serve as wonderful testing grounds for new hymns, prayers, and liturgical settings. The assembled clergy and (involved) laity provide fertile soil for broadening the Church's "tastes." Prayers and readings in foreign languages, folk hymns from other cultures, and a wide variety of musical settings can emphasize that the Church is truly universal.

Within the ELCA, we have started using the term "glocal" to describe the intersection of global and local cultures within the contexts of worship and mission.  (It accompanies a shift in "missional" practices -- but more on that later.) One of this movement's stated goals is to, "Learn to lead inviting worship that includes global voices." Surely, this is a worthwhile goal.

Unfortunately, several major problems exist within this movement. We are going about it all wrong.

The first two are closely related and rather ironic: cultural blindness and appropriation -- dare I say, imperialism.

At Synod Assembly, we utilized a "Hispanic Creed" that reads as follows:
We believe in God, the Father Almighty,
Creator of the heavens and the earth;
Creator of all peoples and all creatures;
Creator of all tongues and races. 
We believe in Jesus Christ, his Son, our Lord,
God made flesh in a person for all humanity,
God made flesh in an age for all the ages,
God made flesh in one culture for all cultures,
God made flesh in love and grace for all creation. 
We believe in the Holy Spirit,
Through whom God incarnate in Jesus Christ
Makes his presence known in our peoples and our cultures;
Through whom God Creator of all that exists, gives us power to become new creatures;
Whose infinite gifts make us one people: the body of Christ. 
We believe in the Church Universal because it is a sign of God's reign,
Whose faithfulness is shown in its many hues
Where all the colors paint a single landscape,
Where all tongues sing the same praise. 
We believe in the Reign of God --
The day of the Great Fiesta
When all the colors of creation will form a harmonious rainbow,
When all peoples will join in joyful banquet,
When all tongues of the universe will sing the same song. 
And because we believe, we commit ourselves:
To believe for those who do not believe,
To love for those who do not love,
To dream for those who do not dream,
Until the day when hope becomes reality.
Amen.
Ignoring the theological issues with this creed (such as the fact that it doesn't mention Christ's Passion or Resurrection, nor does it mention the Resurrection of the body), the question still remains: why? The Apostles' and Nicene Creeds both translate into Spanish. The ELCA even publishes a Spanish translation of our liturgy for the Divine Service. In fact, there was a sample copy of this liturgy on display just outside the plenary hall.

Instead, we recited the above. The above creed isn't particularly Hispanic -- except for the reference to the "Great Fiesta," nor did we recite it in Spanish. So, praytell, what makes this a "Hispanic" creed?

Likewise, one of the "Glocal" musicians, a middle age white woman, ended every verse of several hymns by yelling "Yai yai yai yai yai!" Is that sound indigenous to the culture from which we are borrowing the music? If so, when is it used and for what reason? Or, as I suspect, is she adopting a (mildly offensive) stereotype in the name of appearing multicultural?

The problem here is not "borrowing" songs, readings, and prayers from other cultures. The Synod to which I belong has members who speak Telugu, German, Swahili, Korean, and Spanish as their native tongue -- and who worship in these languages every week. In the context of corporate worship, it is indeed right, our duty, and our joy to read from Scripture, to sing songs, and pray in those languages and to be lead by members of those parishes. Though, at this point, it's not that we are "borrowing" anything. Instead, we are simply worshiping with our brothers and sisters in their native tongues.

Instead, the issue is that we are reducing these cultures to a commodity. We are ripping them from their unique settings and turning them into a product to be swapped. We don't understand what we are doing -- or for that matter, what we are saying. Anyone who has ever compared a translated hymn to its original text knows that translators often go off in a completely different direction. When we sing: "Amen, bawo," and you tell me it means "Amen, amen," I can tell you're lying. You are asking me to use a language without knowing what it is I'm singing or why I'm singing it, you are asking me to be an accomplice in cultural commodification.

In an attempt to be multicultural -- which I firmly believe the Church should be -- we have done violence to the cultures we are trying to embrace. We have become cultural  raiders, burning down that which we don't understand and plundering anything with a catchy melody.

The irony here is that we do this to replace a liturgy which translates into any language. The Church's historic liturgy transcends time, space, culture, ethnicity, and
language. That is, catholic worship is by its very nature multicultural.