O God of grace and glory, help us to behold that which you are helping us to become ☩ in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
In the Church Year, today is known as Quinquagesima – that’s a fun word, isn’t it? Quinquagesima: it means that we’re approximately fifty days from Easter and that this is the Sunday before Lent begins. On these Sundays between the Epiphany and Lent, the sermons have been focusing on our worship – exploring what we mean when say that foundational to our identity is “intentional worship.” Our worship is intentional in that it is deliberately and prayerfully planned and led, and it is intentional in that it is done with a purpose in mind. Today, as this sermon series concludes, I want to consider that last bit – what is the purpose of worship?
First, a brief recap of the ground that’s been covered. First, I introduced the term “sacramental imagination,” as a way of describing how worship opens our hearts and minds to the reality of God’s movement in us and around us. And then over the next few Sundays, we considered the role of Scripture in our worship, the idea of holiness that undergirds the Eucharist, our Baptismal rootedness, and the centrality of forgiveness. And when we add all of this up, we are ready to think about what the purpose of doing all of this is.
Liturgy is the term that we often use to talk about what we do when we come to Church. I prefer the word “liturgy” to “worship” because it actually gets us closer to the purpose; but liturgy is a word that a lot of people think differentiates traditional worship from less formal styles. But that’s not the case. Liturgy is derived from the Greek word for a public works project – something done by a benefactor for the good of the community. So, in ancient Greece, a liturgist wasn’t someone who organized worship, they were a public servant or donor. Sometimes these liturgies were the equivalent of taxation – the wealthy were expected to use their money to fund things for the welfare of the city. Examples of liturgies were festivals, bridges, aqueducts, or rations for soldiers.
Somewhere along the way, there became a rampant mistranslation of liturgy as “the work of the people,” as a way of saying that worship isn’t about what the clergy do, but that all of God’s people have a role in worship – choir, acolytes, readers, ushers, and the faithful who add their voices and presence all “make” worship together. That’s a lovely sentiment, and I agree with the premise that worship is participatory and is about the whole people of God, not just the clergy’s leadership. But that’s not what liturgy means. And when we get that definition wrong, we misunderstand the purpose of the liturgy.
Which is why I don’t like the word “worship” as much. Worship implies that we come to do something for God, when it’s actually the opposite. In liturgy, God offers us the gifts of blessing and belonging. God does not need our attention, our affirmations, or our praises. God Almighty is quite sufficient without us – that’s part what it means to be God. Rather, it is we who need to have our attention aligned to that which is ultimately good, true, and beautiful. It is we who need to learn how to praise the true and living God instead of the idols that surround us. It is we who need to be shaped and schooled in the virtues of beloved community, forgiveness, and generosity. We need liturgy as it nourishes us from the riches of God’s gracious and abundant love. So, in this sense, liturgy is a gift that God gives to us.
It’s sort of like a young child who gives a gift to their parents. The parent drives the child to the store, drops a hint about what they might like, gives the child the money to give to the cashier, and then acts surprised when the gift is handed over. And, in a sense, the parent very much appreciates and cherishes that gift because of the love that is behind it. But the parent is also invested in child and wants them to learn the importance of connection and generosity. Sure, the parent could say “Thanks kid, but I’m self-sufficient and I don’t need to enact this ritual of taking you to the store when Amazon can deliver it by this afternoon.” But that would erode the relationship and not allow the child to learn how to give gifts. Liturgy is something similar – when we come to worship, we are more the recipients than the giver. Yes, God is pleased by the offering of our time, money, attention, and voices, but we need to give these things more than God needs to receive them. Because in bringing ourselves to church and offering these things, we are being shaped into the people God intends us to be – and that is the true purpose of worship.
St. Augustine once preached that in the liturgy, we behold what we are to become. He was speaking about Communion, the Body of Christ. We come together as the Body of Christ to receive the Body of Christ and thereby more fully become the Body of Christ through our union with Jesus and one another. It’s circular logic, yes, but a circle is a symbol of harmony and completeness, and that’s what liturgy is about.
The purpose of all things – Creation, faith, and liturgy – is union with God. This is the trajectory of Genesis through Revelation, the story of how we are created in the image of God and how God intends to be fully united with us. It would take a whole sermon series to explore that idea further, but the basic idea is that God’s intention in Creation is for all things to be united in and by God’s love through Jesus Christ.
Different traditions have talked about this union with God in different ways – theosis, glorification, deification, sanctification, transformation. Whatever we call it, the idea was put succinctly by St. Athanasius in the 300s: God became human in Jesus so that humans might become one with God through Jesus. This culmination of what we are to become is expressed at the final section of the final book of Scripture, Revelation, which says “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with us; we will be his people and God himself will be with us.”
Intentional worship, or liturgy, is how God is preparing us and shaping us for this destination. In liturgy, we receive glimpses of this glory that we are intended for. It’s a glory that all of the readings this morning point are pointing us towards. The passage from Luke, which is the focus of one of our large icons, is known as the Transfiguration, when Jesus is glimpsed in the fullness of his glory. And, yes, of course, the passage is a clear demonstration of the divinity of Jesus as he appears on the mountain top just as God was revealed to Moses on a mountaintop in the burning bush.
But the Transfiguration is not only a glimpse into who Jesus is, it’s also our beholding that which we are to become. St. Paul gets at this in the passage we heard from Second Corinthians: “And all of us, seeing the glory of the Lord, are being transformed” (and that word is the same as “transfigured,” so we could say that we are “being transfigured”) into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” Or, as one of the hymns of the Church puts it, we are “changed from glory into to glory till in heaven we take our place.”
Undergirding this idea of our transformation and total union with God is Baptism, which we have the joy of celebrating today as Eliel and Sunday are joined to the Body of Christ. In Romans, we read that “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life;” in Galatians we hear, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ;” and Colossians puts it as “your life is hidden with Christ in God.” The point is consistent – Baptism is the liturgical and ritual enactment of our union with Jesus and anticipates our final belonging in God.
When we come to worship, we are reminded of this ultimate purpose and destination of our lives – to enjoy the love that we have been given as we grow further in the knowledge and power of that love. Liturgy helps us to rehearse our belovedness and deepen our roots in this soil of grace. And this is why our regular participation in worship helps us. This is not about shame or guilt, but a question of what is forming us, setting our priorities, and making up our minds. Just like the gymnast who wants to make the Olympic team practices more than a few times a month, or the person who wants to learn Spanish or play the piano has to practice more than occasionally, the more we invest in liturgy the more rehearsed we will be in faith and the more clearly we will be able to behold and imagine the glory that we are becoming.
Liturgy does this holy work in three ways, all connected to the brightness of the Transfiguration’s light. And this idea of light is why the Church uses candles. Thanks to lightbulbs and electricity, candles are no longer needed. We don’t just keep candles because we’re old-fashioned, but because they are symbolic of this light that shines on and through us.
As an image for how liturgy works, first, liturgy is a light upon our path. Through Scripture, sermons, and the intentional flow of our liturgy, we are being shaped and guided as God’s people. Secondly, like a flame, liturgy provides warmth. In liturgy, we are comforted with God’s promises, nourished with the love of God given to us at the Eucharist, gathered together in beloved community, and are given hope and joy even in the challenges of life. And thirdly, like a fire, liturgy can purify and refine us – in particular, this is what the prayers after the Creed are all about: opening our eyes to the needs of the world, confessing our sins, and relying on God’s mercy.
Starting last Sunday, we pray the Prayer attributed to St. Francis before the final blessing. The intention behind this is that those are words that we need to plant in our souls so that they might bear the fruit of the Gospel in this contentious time. Part of the glory that we are becoming is to be instruments of God’s peace, and it is my intention that God will use that prayer to do just that with us.
As St. Peter said on that mountaintop, indeed, “it is good for us to be here.” For one, it is always a good thing to gather in beloved community. Today, it is a great joy to celebrate the Baptisms of Eliel and Sunday. It is also good to be here because when we come to liturgy, we catch a glimpse of the glory that we were made for in the beauty of this space, in the assurance of our forgiveness, in the tasting of the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. It is good to be here because through intentional worship we are guided, warmed, and shaped by the light of Christ. It is good to be here because by God’s gracious love for us, we are being changed from glory into glory.
