For some, liturgy is important, but only in a secondary sense. The centre is doctrine and theology. Norwegian theologian Helge Fæhn, for instance, state that through liturgical reforms in the 1950s and 60s, more and more people started to acknowledge that liturgies and liturgical structures or forms, are “the Dogma and the Confession or Creed in practice.”1 While this was, in many ways, a step in the right direction, as it implies a link between liturgy, doctrine, and creed, it still say that doctrines and creeds have primacy (though the latter is, in many ways, part of the liturgy). But this sees the human intellectual and cognitive reflection as primary, and liturgy as secondary. And if liturgy is, principally, a human act, that can make sense. If, on the other hand, liturgy is first and foremost a divine act in which we, as humans, participate, liturgy must be primary. For liturgy, then, is the act of God, made manifest in the word, the sacraments, and in worship, while theology, including dogmas, is the church’s reflection on (and explication of) this. According to Norwegian theologian Knut Alfsvåg, “[a] Christian worship service is an encounter with the risen one,” and that this encounter “has a specific cognitive content, which is contained in the biblical writings and summarized in the creeds.”2 But this cognitive content and knowledge, says, Alfsvåg, “can never be abstracted from the way it is communicated”:
It can only be communicated through the story of Jesus and the concrete manifestations in baptism and the Lord’s Supper that Jesus, according to this story, has bequeathed to us. Therefore, the priority of liturgy before learning is not coincidental; theology always starts from the liturgy. Theology is reflection on the life of faith as it is lived.
Alfsvåg notes that part of the problem is that since “the study of theology has been focused on the academic context, theologians have tended to misunderstand this,” as they “have repeatedly, particularly under modernity, thought of theological learning as something that can be abstracted from the means of communicating it and studied separately.”3 He compares this to a musician learning music “only by studying the scores or by discussing the aesthetic value of Beethoven’s symphonies.” And though this may be important, “it does not in itself produce any music.”4 Doctrine is important, says Alfsvåg, but only in light of that on which it reflects.
The centrality of the liturgy relies on this, that it is not a human invention but something which has been bequeathed to us by Christ. In Lutheran theology, the central word used for the liturgy has been Divine Service (Ger. Gottesdienst), something we also see in the Eastern tradition, where they talk of the Divine Liturgy. This is also the case in the Church of Norway, through which I was ordained as a priest. But in my experience, many in the Church of Norway see this first and foremost as something we do, in service to God.
The most clear expression of this came is present in a document accompanying a 2008 trial liturgy, as part of the liturgical reform. This document stated that “the divine service is fundamentally seen as a series of acts that the congregation does together, more than specific words or formulas,” and that this “is especially expressed through the sacraments, Baptism and the Eucharist, but also the reading from Scripture, the sermon and the prayers must be seen from the point of view of action.”5 Here, liturgy is understood almost exclusively as the work of the people. But central Lutheran theologoians have maintained that the expression ‘Divine Service’ (Gottesdienst in German and gudsteneste in Norwegian), should be understood principally as a subjective genitive, as a divine act, not an objective genitive, as a human act addressed to God.6 Though the sacraments, for example, are celebrated by priests and bishops, together with the congregations, they are first and foremost divine gifts, as manifestations of the divine act.
We can see parallels to this in Christian Neoplatonism, especially with regards to theurgy. Briefly, theurgy (Gk. theourgía) is a divine work, made manifest in human action. As Peter Struck puts it: “Theurgy is a divine act, a θεῖον ἔργον, insofar as it is action, established by gods, put into use by humans, whose effect is to bring the material world (including that part of the celebrant which is material) into harmony with the divine order.”7 Theurgic Neoplatonists insists that though theurgy is made manifest in ritual, it is first and foremost a divine work. Those humans who perform a theurgic ritual, do so not on their own, but as vehicles of the divine. Theurgic Neoplatonists hold that theourgía (lit. ‘divine work’) should, like Gottesdienst, be understood principally as a subjective genitive. It is a work of the divine, and not principally a human act addressed to God or the gods.8 And according to Christian theology, the divine work of the liturgy is a divine gift to us which transforms us and the world. Alfsvåg writes:
The significance of the liturgy is that it takes us into the room where an incarnational spirituality unfolds. In worship, we encounter God in the shape of word and sacrament. This does not remove us from the world but renews our understanding of the world as the place where God is. From worship as fellowship centered on divine presence there is a path to fellowship with everybody and everything God has created.9
A side note is important here. This is correct, but I prefer the way Alfsvåg phrases it in his Norwegian original (translated by yours truly): “This does not remove us from the world but gives us back the world as the place where God is.”10 This better expresses, in my opinion, that through the celebration of the divine act, we are given back the created world as a divine gift, as that medium through which we experience the divine presence. As Paul Tyson notes, referencing C. S. Lewis, “the world of immediate experience is not “seen through” and then discarded, but rather that world as we experience it is the necessary medium through which we hear the music of heaven.”11 And when we understand all this, to the extent we can, we understand why liturgy, as a divine work, must have primacy over doctrine and theology, as the latter is a reflection on the former.
Notes:
Helge Fæhn, Messe med mening: Praktisk-liturgiske refleksjoner (Oslo: Luther, 1998), 21 (No. “…dogmet og bekjennelsen i funksjon…”).
Knut Alfsvåg, Divine Presence: An Introduction to Christian Theology, Kindle version (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2021), 177, cf. 175-180. For the Norwegian original see Knut Alfsvåg, Det guddommelige nærvær – en innføring i kristen teologi, 2nd ed. (Stavanger: VID/MHS, 2021), 116, cf. 115-118.
Alfsvåg, Divine Presence, 177-178.
Alfsvåg, Divine Presence, 178.
Liturgi – Bokmål: Forslag til Ny ordning for hovedgudstjeneste i Den norske kirke (Bergen: Eide/Kyrkjerådet, 2008), 15 (my translation). The original text says that “gudstjenesten grunnleggende sett betraktes som en rekke of handlinger som menigheten gjør sammen, mer enn bestemte ord eller formularer,” and that this “kommer særlig til uttrykk i sakramentene, dåp og nattverd, men også lesningen fra Skriften, prekenen og forbønnene må ses under synsvinkelen handling.” See Kjetil Kringlebotten, Liturgy, Theurgy, and Active Participation: On Theurgic Participation in God (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2023), 170-171. For my extended critique of the reforms, see pp.164-193.
See John T. Pless, “Six Theses on Liturgy and Evangelism” (Conference on Liturgy and Outreach, Concordia College, 1987), 6 (under thesis V): “It is the word of the Lord that brings men and women to faith, not the power or personality of the evangelist. Likewise, in worship God is at work to serve His people with His Word and Sacraments. Evangelical worship is Gottesdienst (subjective genitive), Divine service.” Also see Burnell Eckardt, “Correcting Some Anti-Antinominanism” (Gottesdienst: The Journal of Lutheran Liturgy, 23rd August, 2017).
Peter T. Struck, “Pagan and Christian Theurgies: Iamblichus, Pseudo-Dionysius, Religion and Magic in Late Antiquity” (Ancient World 32:2, 2001): 30, cf. John F. Finamore, Iamblichus and the Theory of the Vehicle of the Soul (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985); Gregory Shaw, Theurgy and the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, 2nd ed. (Kettering: Angelico Press/Sophia Perennis, 2014), 1-20. For a quick primer on what theurgy is, read this post.
Kringlebotten, Liturgy, Theurgy, and Active Participation, 9-10, 149.
Alfsvåg, Divine Presence, 177.
Alfsvåg, Det guddommelige nærvær, 116. Original: “Det tar oss ikke ut av verden, men gir oss verden tilbake som det stedet der Gud er.”
Paul Tyson, Returning to Reality: Christian Platonism for our Times (Cambridge: Lutterworth, 2015), 25.
Lex orandi, lex credendi: liturgy shapes the soul, but liturgy is at its worst when it is didactic. I don’t know what it’s like in Norway, but the worst excesses of Common Worship in the Church of England happen when committees redesign or “augment” liturgies to explain themselves to the ignorant our unchurched (my sights are set on the revised baptismal liturgies). The result is that everything what is explained is more or less explained away. Allegorical allusions to little-known parts of Scripture, which nowadays basically includes the entire Old Testament, are omitted. Compare this to the unexplained richness of the 1662 rite and you see straight away what is going on: though, to be fair, it probably started with Cranmer’s decision to strip away what he judged “needless” repetitions.
In any case, I entirely support your conviction that the liturgy is the divine work, the Opus Dei, albeit offered by the hands of the priestly people of God. It is the participation in His divine work that moulds is to His will. Even the sermon at the Mass is meant to exhort us to deeper participation in the Mystery, rather than act as a standalone Bible study or platform for the preacher’s political convictions. But all too often, the sermons have nothing to do with the Eucharist at all. Perhaps clergy suppose that their words will teach the people better than the act bestowed on them by the Word Incarnate and Great Teacher. Then again, given the way His action has been attenuated by the Procrustean bed of modern liturgical committees, maybe speaking in His place is their last resort.