Ask Doug: American Flag and the Pledge of Allegiance in Church? from Canon Wired on Vimeo.
I could see a case for having every flag in the sanctuary, but then you would always leave some out and then ruin the whole point since you would leave out the ones that “don’t matter” and Jesus would be angry about that.
“Whereas it is ordained in this Office for the Administration of the Lord’s Supper, that the Communicants should receive the same kneeling; (which order is well meant, for a signification of our humble and grateful acknowledgment of the benefits of Christ therein given to all worthy Receivers, and for the avoiding of such profanation and disorder in the holy Communion, as might otherwise ensue;) yet, lest the same kneeling should by any persons, either out of ignorance and infirmity, or out of malice and obstinacy, be misconstrued and depraved: It is hereby declared, That thereby no adoration is intended, or ought to be done, either unto the Sacramental Bread or Wine there bodily received, or unto any Corporal Presence of Christ’s natural Flesh and Blood. For the Sacramental Bread and Wine remain still in their very natural substances, and therefore may not be adored; (for that were Idolatry, to be abhorred of all faithful Christians;) and the natural Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ are in Heaven, and not here; it being against the truth of Christ’s natural Body to be at one time in more places than one.”
via Black Rubric – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
So kneeling ” is well meant, for a signification of our humble and grateful acknowledgment of the benefits of Christ therein given to all worthy Receivers, and for the avoiding of such profanation and disorder in the holy Communion, as might otherwise ensue.” Interesting. What would Ezra say about how one might avoid “profanation and disorder in the holy Communion”?
And Nehemiah, who was the governor, and Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who taught the people said to all the people, “This day is holy to the LORD your God; do not mourn or weep.” For all the people wept as they heard the words of the Law. Then he said to them, “Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our LORD. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.” So the Levites calmed all the people, saying, “Be quiet, for this day is holy; do not be grieved.” And all the people went their way to eat and drink and to send portions and to make great rejoicing, because they had understood the words that were declared to them (Nehemiah 8.9-12).
It seems to me that N. T. Wright’s refutation of Purgatory also speaks well to the implicit disbelief in the Gospel (only an implication, not something anyone is really guilty of meaning) involved in this sort of posture at the table:
When the prodigal son put the ring on his finger and the shoes on his feet, was he being arrogant when he allowed his father’s lavish generosity to take its course? Would it not have been far more arrogant, far more clinging to one’s own inverted dignity as a “very humble” penitent, to insist that he should be allowed to wear sackcloth and ashes for a week or two until he’d had time to adjust to the father’s house? No: the complaint about the prodigal’s arrogance, I fear, comes not from the father, but from the older brother. We should beware lest that syndrome destroy our delight in the gospel of the free grace of God. We mustn’t let the upside-down arrogance of those who are too proud to receive free grace prevent us from hearing and receiving the best news in the world.
And, if Jesus has invited us as honored guest to eat and drink with him, how can we justify refusing to sit in the name of humility? “It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn?” (Romans 8.33b, 34a) And it is God who exalts. Who is to humiliate? If God treats us as friends, who are we to act as penitents? If God says for us to sit with him, who are we to kneel? He or she whom God has exalted let no one humble.
Augustine wrote that God has humbled himself and still man is proud. But human perversity is even worse so that God has now elevated man and man still wants to find a way to earn it. What else explains a value system that think God wants his accepted guests to grovel at meals with him?
I’m not sure I agree with Walter Marshall that “the Law” should be blamed, but psychologically he is exactly right:
By nature, you are completely addicted to this legal method of salvation. Even after you become a Christian by believing the gospel, your heart is still addicted to salvation by works. In your heart you still want to make the duties of the law come before the comforts of the gospel…You find it hard to believe that you should get any blessing before you work for it…This is the mindset you tend to fall into: You sincerely do want to obey the law of God. Therefore, to make sure you obey the law of God you make all of God’s blessings depend upon how well you keep his law…Some preachers even tell you that you had better not enjoy the blessings of the gospel! They tell you to diligently obey the law first, and that only by doing this will you will be safe and happy before God. Just keep in mind, however, that if you go this route, you will never enjoy your salvation for as long as you live in this world (The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, 1692).
Whether or not this method should be described as “legal,” Marshall is completely right that no one wants free pardon. Not until one has been humble enough. Not until one has groveled enough. Not until one has shown how thankful one is for blessings by showing that one is too good to actually enjoy them. Preachers who boast (there is no other word for it though they would never acknowledge what they are doing) in their faithfulness to the Gospel of free grace will not hesitate to promote this perverse values system from the pulpit. It is all cover for the worse sort of pride that refuses to actually receive the benefit. Don’t be fooled by “grateful acknowledgment of the benefits of Christ therein given to all worthy Receivers.” The benefit is to be sit with Jesus. Kneeling is a refusal of that benefit.
God restored us in Christ to 1) have fellowship with him, 2) serve him, 3) be of great joy. None of those things happen by insisting on staying on one’s knees.
One other point:
What difference does it make that “no adoration is intended“? Did Paul accept that reasoning from the Corinthians who thought they could participate in pagan worship feasts without being guilty of idolatry because they didn’t believe in the pagan gods? Just because one can commit idolatry in one’s heart does not mean one can eliminate idolatry in one’s hands or knees by what one thinks in one’s heart. Philanderers might think otherwise, but they are wrong: unfaithfulness is in the act, not the feeling or idea.
I don’t think kneeling for communion is direct enough to count as idolatry. It is not the same as bowing to the bread or wine. But either way intention is hardly relevant.
Finally, I apologize for the rant nature of his post. Christians do disagree about serious issues without ceasing to be Christians on either side of the issue. Nor do I think kneeling is the worse liturgical sin. As one who has served grape juice as communion, God knows I have no possible personal moral high ground to stand on. I am not better than anyone but I am all too happy to be exalted by the grace of God, despite my sins and faults, with everyone who names the name of Christ.
RELATED: 5 things you are not allowed to do on a holy day of worship
One may see no vested priests or private masses being offered in chantry chapels, yet a lot in Evangelical worship today owes much to the un-Reformed habits of the late Middle Ages. I have been struck by this supreme historical irony as I visited many Evangelical churches in the past several years (the following comments are not aimed at any single congregation or denomination).
First, I encountered the extraordinary passivity of these congregations. Aside from usually standing to sing, the laity sit in silence for the entire service. They neither kneel nor stand to pray. Moreover, at the end of every prayer (offered by the minister alone), they are mute; most Protestant pastors must literally answer themselves with an audible “Amen.” Of course, levels of congregational participation vary among congregations, but the norm is amazingly passive. One would not be surprised to discover the laity bringing prayer beads like their medieval forerunners, just to have something to do during the service.
Second, as there is a paucity of participation, so there is often a scarcity of Scripture. While the biblical passage under consideration might be well expounded, the number of verses actually read is usually very small indeed. I have attended many services where a single verse was the extent of the lection for that Lord’s Day. Nor is there any compunction against reading exclusively from the New Testament. Sunday after Sunday may go by with no readings from the Old Testament during the main morning service. Is it possible that no one has ever heard of the Marcionite heresy? It does make me wonder.
Third, communion is administered infrequently, as in the late Middle Ages, so the faithful only receive a few times a year. And Evangelicals have found a new way to effectively deny the cup to the laity by avoiding the biblical element of wine. (Where is Jan Hus when we need him?) Against dominical command and the clear words of the New Testament, most Evangelicals persist in employing grape juice rather than wine in the sacrament. Paradoxically, those whose approach to Scripture might be deemed most literalistic choose to set aside Christ’s clear injunction.
Here, in a sense, is a modern Evangelical version of what the Anglican Thirty-nine Articles call a “work of supererogation.” Evangelicals may still reject the idea of accumulating surplus merit, but the implication of substituting grape juice for wine in the sacrament is that we know better than our Lord and can be more pious than Jesus. And some Evangelicals have an attitude toward alcohol that one could only describe as superstitious.
via Touchstone Archives: An Unlikely Window on the Medieval Church.
If memory serves, Berkof stresses that the sacraments only have reference to special grace, not common grace.
Let us define our terms:
Special grace is the grace of God which he gives unconditionally to whoever he chooses to inherit eternal life (for this post we will call them “the elect,” designating that they are chosen for everlasting life in Christ). This grace is always effectual in bringing about that goal.
Common grace is any grace that can in principle be given both to someone chosen to inherit eternal life–an elect person–and to someone passed over and allowed to, ultimately, remain in their sins (for this post we will call them “the reprobate”). Common grace is not always identical to universal grace. Both the elect and the reprobate can enjoy Hawaii but not all of either group (I presume) has enjoyed that blessing of common grace. All universal grace is common grace but not all common grace is universal grace. Indeed, some forms of common grace (an Olympic gold medal for example?) may be rare common grace. “Common” here designates that it is a blessing available or given to both elect and reprobate, not that it is plentiful or universal.
With that in mind, I think we need to be careful how we restrict the sacraments to special grace. The Gospel is about special grace. When we preach the Gospel we are presenting, inviting, and challenging hearers with the grace of Jesus in his incarnation, life, death, new life, and ascension. But our words aren’t only for the elect. The reprobate here them also. They are challenged by the same message. To their eternal loss and more severe punishment, they reject the message.
In the same way, it seems to me, the sacraments are an aspect of common grace. I believe I learned this from John Murray who got it from Dr. Herman Kuiper.
The best classification with which the present writer has become acquainted is that offered by Dr. Herman Kuiper in the work aforementioned. In classifying the various manifestations of grace recognised by Calvin he gives three groups. The first category is that of the “grace which is common to all the creatures who make up this sin-cursed world…a grace which touches creatures as creatures.” This Dr. Kuiper calls universal common grace. There is, secondly, the grace recognised by Calvin as “common to all human beings in distinction from the rest of God’s creatures…a grace which pertains to men as men.” This Dr. Kuiper calls general common grace. Thirdly, there is the grace common not to all creatures and not to all men but to all “who live in the covenant sphere…to all elect and non-elect covenant members.” This Dr. Kuiper calls covenant common grace.
The “covenant sphere” would include or be identical to the visible church. In the visible church all are recipients of the preaching of the Gospel and the visible church is marked out by sacraments.
Thus, it would seem to me that we need (and do in fact) recognize the sacraments as a kind of common grace. Those to whom God gives special grace respond in faith to the promises enacted in these sacraments just as they respond to the preached Gospel.
Back in the late eighties or early nineties, this essay from The Reconstruction of the Church really impressed me. Still does:
The following is a transcript, or at least a reasonably close version, of a series of conversations I had with Nathan, my seven-year-old, as we visited an evangelical church service on a recent Sunday evening. Although the discussion actually took place in several stages (ending late that evening at home), for literary purposes I have reconstructed the conversation as if it all happened during the service. I confess that a good portion of it did go on then, as I tried to explain evangelical worship to an impressionable youngster.
Nathan: Papa, this sure is a funny liturgy.
Papa: Well, it isn’t exactly a liturgy. They don’t believe in liturgy at this church.
Nathan: How can you not believe in liturgy? Isn’t a liturgy just what you do in Church?
Papa: Yes. But what I mean is that they don’t believe in having the service written down in advance.
Nathan: Why not?
Papa: They think that if they read something that’s written down, they won’t really mean it.
Nathan: But all they have to do is think about what it means, and agree with it, and then they’ll mean it, won’t they?
Papa: Sure. But they don’t believe that.
Nathan: But somebody around here must believe it, because we all sang from the same hymnbook. Don’t they mean it when they sing the hymns?
Papa: Sure they do. But they think prayers are different.
Nathan: You mean that they can agree with a song that they read, but they don’t know how to agree with a prayer that they read?
Papa: Something like that.
Nathan: Then why don’t they just memorize the prayers?
Papa: Because they think they wouldn’t mean those, either.
Nathan: Can they memorize songs and mean them?
Papa: Sure. But they think music is different. You can read or memorize a song and still mean it. But if you read or memorize words without music, you won’t mean them.
Nathan: But don’t they teach their children “politeness liturgies”? Like “please” and “thank you” and “you’re welcome ,“ and ‘yes, sir,” and ‘yes, ma’am”? And don’t they teach them to mean it?
Papa: Yes, but –
Nathan: And what about Bible verses? Do they memorize Bible verses?
Papa: Of course they do.
Nathan: But they don’t mean them?
Papa: Yes, they do.
Nathan: Without music?
Papa: Sure.
Nathan: How?
Papa: Can we change the subject?
Nathan: OK. Why didn’t we confess our sins when we began the service?
Papa: This church doesn’t believe in it.
Nathan: WHAT? !
Papa: Shhh. Keep your voice down. I mean they don’t think the Church needs to do it.
Nathan: Don’t we need to be forgiven?
Papa: Sure. They just don’t think it should happen in Church.
Nathan: What about the Creed? Why didn’t we say the Creed?
Papa: Well, partly because it’s liturgical. They think they won’t mean it if they say it.
Nathan: We could sing it.
Papa: They don’t know how.
Nathan: Oh – they haven’t been Christians very long, huh? Let’s teach it to them.
Papa: Let’s not.
Nathan: Why not?
Papa: Because they won’t want to do it anyway. Because it’s liturgical.
Nathan: Why are they so afraid of liturgy? We could explain that it isn’t hard to mean it when you say it.
Papa: But they won’t want to do it anyway. They want to be different every week.
Nathan: Really? Different every week?
Papa: Yes.
Nathan: What do they do differently? Do they sometimes take the offering at the end of the service instead of in the middle?
Papa: No. That’s always at the same time.
Nathan: Do they sometimes have the preaching at the beginning?
Papa: No, that’s at the same time too.
Nathan: Then what do they do that’s different?
Papa: They sing different songs.
Nathan: So does our church.
Papa: Well, it really comes down to the fact that they don’t have prayers and responses for the congregation to read.
Nathan: Why not?
Papa: They think that reading prayers and responses keeps people from worshiping.
Nathan: Really? What do they think the people should do in- stead?
Papa: Just sit there and do nothing.
Nathan: That’s worship? Doesn’t it get boring?
Papa: Not if the elders keep things exciting enough on the stage.
Nathan: Elders? What elders? You mean those men up there on the platform are elders?
Papa: Sort of. But they don’t always call them that.
Nathan: Why aren’t they wearing robes and collars so you know what they are?
Papa: They say elders shouldn’t wear special clothes.
Nathan: Why not?
Papa: They think that there’s nothing special about clothing.
Nathan: Policemen and soldiers and judges wear special clothes.
Papa: Well, they think clothing isn’t special for elders. They think elders should look like everybody else.
Nathan: Then why is that elder wearing a maroon suit with a blue shirt, a green tie, and a white belt?
Papa: Well, it’s still a suit. The point is, he can wear anything he wants.
Nathan: You mean an elder could wear a robe and a collar if he wanted?
Papa: No. He can wear anything but a robe and a collar.
Nathan: So they do think clothing is special!
Papa: Well. . . .
Nathan: There! Someone did it again!
Papa: Did what?
Nathan: He said “Amen.” See? That’s why this place needs a liturgy book. Half the people don’t know when to say things.
Papa: I told you. They don’t do a liturgy here.
Nathan: Some people do. Hear that? Somebody just did it again. If we had a book, we could all say it together. That would keep some people from getting it wrong and saying it while somebody else is talking.
Papa: But Nathan, I’m telling you. There’s no liturgy. People just say “Amen” whenever they feel like it.
Nathan: WHAT? Where does the Bible say to do that?
Papa: It doesn’t.
Nathan: Then why do they do it? Aren’t they afraid?
Papa: Why should they be afraid?
Nathan: Because it’s a vow, a covenant promise. Doesn’t it mean that we agree with God, and that if we don’t keep this promise we are asking God to destroy us? Isn’t it even a special covenant name for Jesus?
Papa: Sure. But they don’t know that. They think it means something else.
Nathan: What do they think “Amen” means?
Papa: They think it means “I feel good.”
Nathan: Look at that!
Papa: What?
Nathan: There are people raising their hands!
Papa: So?
Nathan: In our church, the elders raise their hands to God when they pray. But in this church, everybody else does it, whenever they feel like it. And they make up their own liturgy as they go along, You know what I think?
Papa: What?
Nathan: I think that in this church everybody is an elder-–except the elders.
Papa: That may be the best description I’ve heard yet.
Nathan: You know, Pa, those elders are tricking us.
Papa: How’s that?
Nathan: They really do have a liturgy for their prayers. They keep saying the same thing over and over again.
Papa: Really?
Nathan: Sure. I don’t know what they mean, but there are two special words they keep using in all their prayers.
Papa: What words?
Nathan: Well, the first one is “just.” They keep saying it. “Lord we just thank you for just being so just special.” Stuff like that. They must have it written down,
because they all do it.
Papa: What’s the other word?
Nathan: It’S not really a word. It’s a special sound, like a little clucking noise: “Tsk.”
Papa: What?
Nathan: Tsk. Tsk.
Papa: What are you talking about?
Nathan: Listen. It goes like this: “Lord, tsk, we just, tsk, we just, tsk, we want to, tsk, thank you, tsk, Lord, for, tsk, for just, tsk, being just so, tsk, special, tsk.” Right?
Papa: OK, quiet down and listen to the special music.
Nathan: Wait. What’s that guy doing? He looks weird.
Papa: Shhh. He’s just singing.
Nathan: Yeah, but he’s shaking all over the place. He looks like he’s going to fall down.
Papa: Well, that’s the way the “special music” singers do it in this church. He’s just trying to rock to the beat.
Nathan: Why? It looks dumb.
Papa: Let’s figure it out. Why do we have a choir in our church? What do you think they’re doing there?
Nathan: It’s part of our worship. They help us worship God.
Papa: OK. Now, why do you think this church has people sing?
Nathan: Well, I guess they’re trying to worship too. But it seems more like they’re trying to look like they’re on television.
Papa: Sort of like MTV?
Nathan: Not that bad. It just looks like they want people to notice them instead of praying. Unless — Do you think maybe he’s just kind of sick?
Papa: We’ll talk about it later. It’s time for communion now.
Nathan: What’s this?
Papa: Shhh! It’s bread.
Nathan: Come on, Pa. What is it really?
Papa: It’s bread, honest. It’s a little, tiny cube of bread.
Nathan: Looks like a piece of cracker to me.
Papa: Well, sure. It is a piece of cracker.
Nathan: Should we give them some money so they can afford bread?
Papa: They can afford it. But they want to do it this way.
Nathan: Why would anybody want to eat this? Do they like the taste?
Papa: Probably not.
Nathan: Then why would they eat something they don’t enjoy–especially at Communion? We’re supposed to be happy when we eat with God.
Papa: Be quiet. It’s time to drink the cup.
Nathan: OK. Yuck! What is this stuff?
Papa: Um, it’s. . . .
Nathan: Tastes like grape-flavored Kool-Aid.
Papa: Grape juice, probably.
Nathan: Doesn’t taste very good. Did they forget to buy some wine?
Papa: No. They don’t drink wine here.
Nathan: WHAT?!
Papa: SHHH!
Nathan: Why don’t they drink wine?
Papa: They don’t believe in it. They think it’s wrong.
Nathan: But it tastes good.
Papa: Well, tasting good isn’t everything.
Nathan: But God made it for us to drink, especially at Communion. It makes us happy, and it makes God happy too.
Papa: That’s right.
Nathan: Does the Bible say it’s wrong?
Papa: No.
Nathan: Then why do they say it is? And why do they drink this yucky juice? And eat those crummy little cracker pieces? No wonder they’re so sad!
Papa: What?
Nathan: Well, look at them. Look how sad they all are. They don’t look like they’re enjoying this, do they?
Papa: Well, no. . . .
Nathan: Well, they aren’t enjoying it a bit. But didn’t you tell me that Communion is a special dinner with Jesus?
Papa: Yes.
Nathan: And when we come to Communion, the whole Church is coming up to heaven, right?
Papa: Right.
Nathan: And when we go to heaven to be with Jesus and have dinner with Him, we’re supposed to be happy, aren’t we?
Papa: Sure.
Nathan: Well, why aren’t these people happy? Do they think heaven is a sad place to be?
Papa: I think they’re sad because they’re thinking about their sins.
Nathan: But they’ve been forgiven, and now they’re in heaven! They’re supposed to be thinking about Jesus!
Papa: Oh, they’re thinking of Him, too. They’re sad because they’re thinking about Him dying on the cross.
Nathan: But He’s not dying anymore. The whole reason we’re doing this is that He came alive, right?
Papa: Right.
Nathan: Well, I don’t think they could be sad about Jesus. I think they’re sad ‘cause they had to eat those icky crackers and drink that dumb old Kool-Aid.
Papa: Grape juice.
Nathan: Kool-Aid. Hey,
Papa. Why are those people looking at me funny?
Papa: Um . . . it’s because you took Communion.
Nathan: So? Everybody else did.
Papa: Not the kids.
Nathan: Why not?
Papa: Because they aren’t allowed to.
Nathan: WHAT?!
Papa: SHHH! They only let grownups take Communion at this church.
Nathan: Why? If you’ve been baptized you can take Communion, right? Even babies can take Communion, because Jesus feeds them, too. Children need Communion as much as grownups.
Papa: But these children haven’t been baptized.
Nathan: WHAT?!
Papa: Shhh. It’s true,
Nathan: Why don’t they want their children to come into the Covenant?
Papa: Well, they do. They just don’t believe that children can be Christians until they get older.
Nathan: That’s dumb. God can make anybody a Christian.
Papa: Well, I mean that they don’t think He will make their children Christians. Until they get older.
Nathan: But Jesus wants little children to come to Him. Even babies. He said so, didn’t He?
Papa: Yes.
Nathan: Look. These people have families, right? Don’t they feed their babies? They don’t make their kids sit in a corner and wait till they’re grownups before they can eat. So why shouldn’t God feed His children, too? It must be sad for the kids to watch the rest of the family eating without them.
Papa: But they don’t think their children really are God’s children.
Nathan: But they teach their children to pray, don’t they?
Papa: Sure.
Nathan: Who do they pray to?
Papa: “Whom.” Objective case. And don’t end your sentences with prepositions unless you have to.
Nathan: Do their kids call God “Father”? Like in the Lord’s Prayer? Wait a minute. You aren’t going to tell me they don’t believe in the Lord’s Prayer, are you?
Papa: Sure, they believe in it. And many of them teach it to their children.
Nathan: Well then. If they teach their children to say “Our Father” then that means they think their children are God’s children, too. Right?
Papa: Uh . . . sort of. But–
Nathan: But they don’t baptize them into Jesus. So how can they be God’s children unless they’re in the Covenant?
Papa: Right. That’s why they don’t give them Communion.
Nathan: Is this as confusing to them as it is to me?
Papa: It might be if they thought about it much.
Nathan: Well, how are their kids supposed to become Christians, if their parents don’t bring them to be baptized?
Papa: When they get older, they’re supposed to makeup their own minds.
Nathan: About whether or not to obey God? That’s pretty dumb. Do they have to wait till they’re older to decide if they want to obey their parents, too?
Papa: Not usually. But they want their children to wait until they’re old enough to love God.
Nathan: But I love God. I always have. And the Bible says that people can know God even when they’re in their mama’s tummy, doesn’t it?
Papa: Well, these people think you have to wait until you are older and smarter, so that you understand what it’s all about.
Nathan: You mean you can’t have dinner with Jesus until you understand what it means?
Papa: That’s the idea.
Nathan: Papa, do grownups understand everything about what Communion means?
Papa: Some people probably think they do.
Nathan: I don’t think these people understand much about it. If they did, they’d bring their children into the Covenant and let them have dinner in heaven with them. And anyway, how are the kids supposed to learn what it means without doing it? That’s like trying to get nutrition from reading a recipe, instead of eating the food.
Papa: Not bad. I’ll have to remember that one.
Nathan: OK, so how can a kid get Communion in this church?
Papa: Well, when he gets older–say, around twelve or so–he asks Jesus into his heart.
Nathan: Papa, don’t be silly. This is serious.
Papa: I’m not being silly. They tell you to ask Jesus to come into your heart.
Nathan: I’ve never heard that. Is that in the Bible?
Papa: No. But they think it is. It’s just an expression someone made up that means becoming a Christian. They also call it “receiving Christ,” which is a little more Biblical.
Nathan: But Jesus is in heaven, and we receive him every Sunday–every time we eat His body and drink His blood.
Papa: Uh, keep your voice down, willya? They don’t talk like that around here.
Nathan: But Jesus talked like that.
Papa: I know. But they don’t know that.
Nathan: Let’s tell them.
Papa: Let’s not, OK? Not right now.
Nathan: All right. Let’s get back to how kids can become Christians and have Communion. When they get older they ask Jesus “into their hearts,“ right? So do they just go ahead and do it when they get to be twelve?
Papa: Not exactly. The grownups have to be sure the kids really mean it.
Nathan: How can they know that?
Papa: The kids have to cry when they do it.
Nathan: Cry? Real tears? How do they make themselves cry?
Papa: Well, some churches spend lots of time practicing. But, basically, they just have a preacher get up and tell real sad stories, so sad that they make people cry. So then the kids cry, and they walk up to the front of the church and ask Jesus to come into their hearts. Sometimes this happens during the summer. The kids go to a special camp where they listen to people preach at them. Then, on the last night, they all stand around a campfire and —
Nathan: And listen to scary stories?
Papa: No. Sad stories.
Nathan: Aw, shoot.
Papa: Then they cry, and throw little twigs on the fire, and ask Jesus into their hearts.
Nathan: Why do they throw twigs on the fire? Do they think they have to do that to come into the Covenant?
Papa: They think that’s how you have to do it if you’re in the mountains. It’s part of their Summer Camp Liturgy. But if you’re home you don’t need to.
Nathan: Then do they get Communion?
Papa: No. They usually have to wait, and go through a class to learn what it means to be a Christian.
Nathan: Wait. What have they been doing while growing up? Haven’t they already had plenty of classes? Does a kid ever get Communion around here?
Papa: Sure, eventually. After he gets out of the class he can have it whenever everybody else does.
Nathan: Every Sunday.
Papa: No. Every month or so.
Nathan: Why not every Sunday? Don’t they go to church every Sunday?
Papa: Yes. But they don’t have Communion every Sunday.
Nathan: But what do they do, if they don’t have Communion? Isn’t that why we go to Church–so we can go to heaven and have dinner in Jesus’ House?
Papa: Well, they sing songs and listen to a sermon.
Nathan: But that’s part of the Liturgy of Communion. Communion is what the Church service is all about, isn’t it? We’re supposed to worship God, and then He feeds us with His food. Why do they go to church? Don’t they go to meet God?
Papa: Sure. But they think they meet him by just listening to a sermon and getting excited about what the preacher says, if he’s interesting enough to listen to. If he isn’t a good speaker, then they think they haven’t met with God.
Nathan: Look. Don’t these people know that Communion makes them strong for living the rest of the week? How is anyone supposed to go without food for a month and still have any energy to do his work?
Papa: Well, they think that if they have Communion every week it won’t seem special.
Nathan: It doesn’t seem like it’s very special to them anyway. I think it would be lots more special if they had it every week and gave it to their children. Maybe then even the grownups would understand what it means.
Papa: You’re probably right.
Nathan: Wait a minute. I think I just figured out the real reason why they don’t have Communion very often.
Papa: Why’s that?
Nathan: ‘Cause it’s crackers and Kool-Aid.
“No Christian should come to God’s house thinking anything else but that everything necessary for life and for happiness and for satisfaction and for fruitfulness is given to him or her in this worship service.”
via Rayburn on the sufficiency of worship… « Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam.
When people say that the sacraments are “like” the word, or the word made visible they typically mean like an abstract message. Baptism somehow teaches something like “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son so that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life.”
But while this is a great message, it falls short of what sacraments are for because it falls short of what preaching is for.
Paul doesn’t write to churches that God loves the world so that believers will benefit from this love. He writes things like:
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge— even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you— so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
When you preach to a Christian congregation you get to tell them things directly about themselves for them to believe about themselves.
If you have a pardon for sin in your worship service, then the pastor gets to assure the congregation from the pulpit: “God forgives you all your sins.”
And this is how the sacraments are “like” the preaching of the word. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper say something about the grace of God to each participant. “You are my friends who will sit at thrones at my table (because that is what you are doing now, pew design notwithstanding).” “You are my son whom I love.”
Finally, a side-question: where does this “made visible” idea come from? A blind person participates in the Lord’s Supper no less than a seeing person. You do communion with your mouth, not your eyes. And baptism is the Word made wet. Visibility is non-essential.
I am astonished to find so few discussions on the temple ritual, not only in connection with the Revelation, but also in connection with the Palestinian background of the New Testament generally. The recent advance in this study has concerned itself with the eschatological literature, and the oral teaching of the Rabbis; it has neglected the temple, its priesthood, and worship. But in the New Testament period the temple system was central; after its destruction the Rabbis organized a new Judaism on enlightened Pharisee lines. But it was a new religion, not the old. The old religion died in the year A.D. 70, and gave birth to two children; the elder was modern Judaism without temple or priest or sacrifice; the younger was Christianity, which was proud possessor of all three. What links Hebrews with Revelation is its insistence on this fact. Christianity is the true heir of the old faith. To it have been transferred the priesthood and the sacrifice.
Read the rest in An Introduction to Reformed Worship.
While I’m looking forward to the Solomon Kane movie, other Puritan effects on culture “coming in December” are not so attractive. So here’s what I wrote in Seminary to defend the holiday from the Charge of being unpresbyterian.
Originally posted here. I stripped out the endnotes in this post.
CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE
‘Tis the season to be informed–sometimes in gentleness, often with vigor–by a variety of Christians claiming that it is wrong to celebrate Christmas. I have no desire to force anyone to celebrate Christmas against their will. Indeed, it would be insulting to the high holiday to pretend that it needs enforcement. It offers to Christians an opportunity for praise and thanksgiving for Christ’s incarnation, good music, family fellowship, the giving and receiving of gifts, and a great many other blessings. What more could anyone want? Taste and see that the Lord is good! (This doesn’t necessarily apply to the fruitcake, but you can participate in the thanksgiving without that!) If anyone, for reasons of conscience, wishes to abstain from the festivities, that is his or her right. But I am not willing to let go unanswered the all-too-common assertion that celebrating Christmas at home or in Church is somehow sinful and unreformed.
What is a Christian committed to the Reformation Tradition to make of the objection to Christmas and other aspects of the Church calendar?
The Westminster Confession
According to Chapter 21, “Of Religious Worship and the Sabbath Day,” in addition to “ordinary religious worship of God” on the Lord’s Day, there are also “solemn fastings and thanksgivings upon special occasions, which are, in their several times and seasons, to be used in an holy and religious manner” (emphasis added). One of the prooftexts for this statement is Esther 9.22: “As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning into a good day; that they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending portions to one another, and gifts to the poor.”
Now how, pray tell, could one say more plainly that, in addition to the Lord’s Day, the Church may also set aside other days, as seem appropriate, to celebrate certain aspects of redemption? Is it not entirely proper, according to this paragraph, for Christians to observe a certain day for the celebration of and thanksgiving for our Lord’s incarnation as especially manifested in His birth to the virgin Mary?
Of course, we all know–and if we didn’t, we would soon learn, for we are incessantly reminded–that the Westminster Directory for Public Worship banned other festival days beside the Lord’s Day. But that is entirely irrelevant. No major presbyterian body in America ever included the Directory in their doctrinal standards, probably precisely because doing so would have made them beholden to such notions. What is conspicuous when comparing the Directory to the Confession is that the statements banning Christmas and other holidays are obviously missing from the latter document. The Confession does not ban Christmas, but considers it a viable exercise of religious liberty to observe it. Those who would appeal to the Directory insist that the statement in question is only supposed to give the Church the authority to call for single times of thanksgivings in response to special acts of providence. But the word, “seasons,” in its context, simply will not dictate such a restriction. Invoking original intent only evades the issue. If the correct answer to a question on a test is 1867, and I know the correct answer but write 1967 without realizing it because of habit (it is the year I was born), then my answer is wrong. I will lose the point because words and numbers have an objective meaning apart from intention (Otherwise, it would be impossible for a person to be put under an oath, since he could later maintain that his words only meant what he intended them to mean). In unclear cases, original intent matters. But when the meaning is clear, we cannot overturn what is said by our reconstruction of what the Divines would have meant to say. Otherwise, the Westminster Confession ceases to be our standard and we are left to the mercy of Church historians and whatever records they dig up. Words mean things and possess an objective force over against the ones who speak them as much as anyone else.
Furthermore, the Westminster Standards are compromise documents. The formulas we have are the ones which attracted the most votes. Indeed, they were formulas sometimes agreed upon between parties who disagreed over the theological issue. Thus, the Confession is intentionally vague on the question of supralapsarianism versus infralapsarianism, for example. To expect a monolithic authorial intent is totally unjustified. We know the Scots found themselves at war with traditional English Christianity in their desire to ban Christmas and other holidays. Some of the Divines agreed with the Scottish commissioners, but there is no reason to think all of them did.
Finally, Purim was an annual festival established by Mordecai and Esther, as recorded in Esther 9.22. Granted: the prooftexts themselves have not been adopted as part of our Standards. But if the meaning of the statement in question is to be interpreted by anything, the product of the Westminster Assembly which has been continually reprinted by the Presbyterian Churches along with the Confession and Catechisms certainly has more weight than the Directory for Public Worship.
All parties to this debate admit that the Church has the authority to call for special thanksgivings. What the “Scottish” party insists is that such authority is restricted to mere one-time celebrations, not annual festivals. Now, readers are invited to read the arguments for this restriction and see for themselves how much question-begging and special pleading is involved By what principle does the Church have the authority to make up ad hoc holy days and not establish regular ones? The “Lord’s Day only” principle should eliminate both. It is simply ridiculous to pretend that some wide gulf of principle separates the two cases. If calling for a special worship time is some sort of horrible infringement on Christian liberty then the occasional thanksgiving is no less immoral than the yearly “season.”
Francis Turretin’s Institutes of Elenctic Theology
In commenting on the Fourth Commandment, Turretin asks:
Fifteenth Question: Festivals
Whether it belongs to the faith in the New Testament that besides the Lord’s day there are other festival days properly so called whose celebration is necessary per se and by reason of mystery, not by reason of order or ecclesiastical polity only. We deny against the papists (Philipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian & Reformed, 1994, vol 2 p. 100).
Got that? It never crosses Turretin’s mind to say it is wrong or even unprofitable to observe a festival. He simply wants to be clear that this is a deliverance of Church authority, not a matter of the Faith per se, as is the Lord’s Day. In fact, the very way Turretin frames the question shows that he takes it for granted that it is within a Church’s lawful authority to establish a festival, as long as they don’t make it essential to the Faith.
He further elaborates:
The question is not whether anniversary days may be selected on which either the nativity, or circumcision, or passion, or ascension of Christ, and similar mysteries of redemption, may be commemorated, or even on which the memory of some remarkable blessing may be celebrated. For this the orthodox think should be left to the liberty of the church. Hence some devote certain days to such festivity, not from necessity of faith, but from the counsel of prudence to excite more to piety and devotion. However, others, using their liberty, retain the Lord’s day alone, and in it, at stated times, celebrate the memory of the mysteries of Christ… …we deny that those days are in themselves more holy than others; rather all are equal. If any sanctity is attributed to them, it does not belong to the time and the day, but to the divine worship. Thus, the observance of them among those who retain it, is only of positive right and ecclesiastical appointment; not, however, necessary from a divine precept (p. 101).
Turretin acknowledges some Reformed Churches do not observe any day but the Lord’s Day. I assume he means the Kirk of Scotland, which was always quick to pretend to being the most Reformed Church in the universe. Unlike Turretin, the Scots did not hesitate to demand that Christmas be banned in England, during the time of the Westminster Assembly. Thus, I can’t help wonder if Turretin doesn’t have the Scots in mind when he writes:
Hence we cannot approve of the rigid judgment of those who charge such churches with idolatry (in which those days are still kept, the names of the saints being retained), since they agree with us in doctrine concerning the worship of God alone and detest the idolatry of the papists (p. 104).
Now, Francis Turretin (1623-1687) is acknowledged as the master of Reformed Theology in his time. I suspect it is precisely because of such judicious determinations as the one I quoted above that he earned his reputation. He taught in the Academy of Geneva and was considered the guardian of the Reformed Faith in Europe, if not the world. By what right do people take for granted that the examples of the Scottish Kirk is determinative forever after of what constitutes the Reformed Faith?
Perhaps this all seems beside the point as far as Christmas is concerned. But I don’t think it is. Frankly, I question whether the anti-Christmas spirit depends on an argument from Scripture as much as a desire to he “more reformed than thou.” Or, to put it in a more general light, how much of the anti-Christmas spirit is spurred on by an all too common quest to be as radical as possible in one’s Christianity? Of course, if this entailed a desire to be radical for what the Bible actually teaches, it would be laudable. But to follow man-made rules instead, and consider these rules as the criteria for true commitment, will not lead to true maturity. Whatever the case, the invocation of an ostensible Reformed tradition seems heavily involved in the anti-Christmas spirit and seems worth examining in it’s own right.
The Second Helvetic Confession (1566)
The Festivals of Christ and the Saints. Moreover, if in Christian Liberty the churches religiously celebrate the memory of the Lord’s nativity, circumcision, passion, resurrection, and of his ascension into heaven, and the sending of the Holy Spirit upon his disciples, we approve of it highly (pp. 291-292).
Composed by Heinrich Bullinger (1504-1575), this confession was the most widely received among the Reformed Churches. The Scots took exception to the above statement, but no one else had any problem with it. Clearly, Christmas is highly approved in the Reformed Churches.
It is worth mentioning what leads up to the above-quoted paragraph. First of all, the Lord’s Day is given primacy as the time set aside for worship and rest “ever since the apostles’ time” (p. 291). After this affirmation of the Lord’s Day and before the affirmation of “the festivals of Christ,” we find the following paragraph:
Superstition. In this connection we do not yield to the Jewish observance and to superstitions. For we do not believe that one day is any holier than another, or think that rest in itself is acceptable to God, Moreover, we celebrate the Lord’s Day and not the Sabbath as a free observance (p. 291).
Thus, the churches receiving this confession did not simply assume that Romans 14.5, Galatians 4.10, and Colossians 2.16 refer to days in general, but rather to the religious calendar of the Mosaic economy, especially as perverted by the Pharisaic Judaizers who had infiltrated the Galatian church.. They rejected the notion that there was a divinely mandated cycle of annual festivals for the New Covenant age. But there was nothing in that rejections which made it a sin to set aside certain days for the “memory” of certain events in the life of our Lord.
The Synod of Dordt (1618-1619)
Unlike the Westminster Assembly, which was purely a national council (the six Scottish Commissioners were invited to join but decided they could have more influence if they worked solely as advocates of Scottish interests), the Synod of Dordt was the closest thing there ever was to a Reformed Ecumenical Council. Not only did the Synod rebut Arminianism in the five Canons of Dordt (from which we get our famous TULIP acrostic), but they also approved the Church Order of Dordt. This Church Order not only lacked any condemnation of Christmas, but decreed that their churches would celebrate it. Thus we find it has been passed down to the conservative Canadian Reformed Church as “Article 53. Days of Commemoration”:
Each year the churches shall, in the manner decided upon by the consistory, commemorate the birth, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Lord Jesus Christ, as well as His outpouring of the Holy Spirit(Book of Praise: Anglo-Genevan Psalter rev. ed. [Winnipeg, Manitoba: Premier Printing ltd., 1984, 1995], p. 670).
Again, if those who condemn the celebration of Christmas as sinful have some sort of clear argument from Scripture, then all of the above is superfluous. After all, if the Bible is against Christmas than all the statements in favor of it are altogether worthless. But, as I’ve said above, in my experience the alleged tradition of the Reformation is strongly invoked to generate plausibility for the banning of Christmas and other parts of the Church calendar. Thus, it is worth pointing out that such a tradition is neither the position of the Westminster Standards as received in the PCA, nor the product of the universal consensus of the Reformed Churches.
What Is Really the Issue?
In this debate, all parties are agreed that the Lord’s Day is the primary day of worship and rest in the New Covenant era. All parties are also agreed that the Lord’s Day is not the only day of rest and worship. The church has the right to worship on other days of the week.
Furthermore, there is nothing approaching a rational argument that proves it is wrong to regularly devote certain Sundays to certain subjects. Indeed, one of the most famous Reformation documents, the Heidelberg Catechism, is broken up into 52 sections so that it can be preached through annually. Even if the majority of Christmases were somehow barred by this principle, none of the Sunday holidays are the least bit questionable. For example, the whole cycle leading up to Easter is completely untouched by the “Lord’s Day only” claim.
Some will, in the name of the Reformed Faith, condemn Christmas because of the man-made hymns involved, or the lighting of candles. But these are questions about exclusive psalmody and whether lighting a candle violates the “regulative principle of worship.” They ought not be confused with the question of the Calendar itself. If there is something wrong with what is included in the worship of God on Christmas day, then those things should be corrected; but the question here is whether or not it is immoral per se to worship on December 25 as an annual celebration of the birth of Christ.
Another distraction is the anti-“papist” myth that Christmas comes from the Roman Catholic Church. If Christmas comes from “Romanism,” then so does the Trinity, Church marriages, and the doctrine of double predestination. The fact is, whatever the history of the holiday, it is Christ, not the pope, who is the reason for the season. To attribute Roman Catholic sympathies to Evangelicals who celebrate Christmas is to violate the Ninth Commandment, which, according to question 145 of the Larger Catechism, prohibits us from “misconstructing intentions, words, and actions.”
Ultimately, then, as I said above, the issue boils down to whether the Church can only call for emergency thanksgivings on the other six days of the week or if it has the authority to call for annual festivals. The question has already been answered admirably by the Westminster Confession and it’s prooftext! The book of Esther contains no mention of God, let alone a revelation from Him prescribing a new feast. Yet Mordecai and Esther do not hesitate to establish Purim.
Conclusion
More could be said on this issue, and I’m sure much more will be. My objective here was simply to point out that the Reformed Faith is much broader than the anti-Christmas contingent within it, and to show that accusing those who observe Christmas of sin is prima facie a groundless charge. We need better evidence from the Bible (if there is any) and better arguments, if we are going to avoid slandering brothers and sisters in the Lord
From James Hastings Nichols, Corporate Worship in the Reformed Tradition, p. 59.
The twentieth-century Protestant Church locked six days a week has no precedents in the Reformation. All the Reformed churches of the sixteenth century conducted weekday services before and after working hours. We have noted the Geneva schedule. In Strassburg there was a weekday service of “morning prayer” with sermon in the parish churches at four or five o’clock in the morning. The service consisted of the general confession, the reading of Scripture and an exhortation based upon it, a suitable pause for private prayers, closed by the minister with a collect and blessing. For late risers there was also a daily sermon at eight o’clock in the cathedral. The cathedral, again, was the scene for daily evening prayer with sermon. In this fashion provision was made for virtually everyone to attend worship with Biblical sermon twice daily either in the cathedral or in parish churches. Each series of services would follow its own systems of Bible readings , the Communion services on Sunday normally using the Gospels, the other services other portions of Scripture.