Obligation
While I was attending an old parish, I remember the priest informing the laity that they needed to be at the Epiphany service because it was a “Day of Obligation”, which meant that every Christian was obligated to be there, unless something serious and outside of their control prevented them, or else be in sin. I will be honest, it made me feel… weird. Putting aside some of the more Roman implications in the statement, I thought, people should be at church because they want to be, not because they are required to be.
As I have gotten older, my opinion has become more nuanced. Of course, I still think people ought to want to be at church to receive the sacraments and to enter into the beauty and participation of heavenly worship with angels and archangels. But maybe I was also misunderstanding what was being said and grasping onto the negative connotations of the word “obligation.”
As a rector, I want people to understand the liturgy and sacrament so well that they want to be at Church every time Holy Communion is offered, or at least on Sundays and High Holy Days. However, as witnessed in some of the modern updates to the liturgy across denominations, this focus on desire can also easily slip down into an unhealthy concern about how to attract people.
In his book, Being Human, Rowan Williams discusses why we should be careful to ask the right questions when thinking about the liturgy. The question that often leads many discussions is “how can we make this more accessible?” In a recent article by Simangaliso Magudulela, titled “Letting Liturgy be Liturgy”, he points out Williams’ important critique of liturgical revision: “The more our humanity falls in love with the idea of domesticating, absorbing, and controlling, […] the less human we actually become.” In trying desperately to explain the mystery of the liturgy away, making it more palatable or easier to understand, we actually diminish ourselves and the power of the liturgy.
Before I go further, of course instruction and catechesis are important. You should know why you do what you do; but the end of the instruction should lead you further into the mystery, not take it away. Know that when you cross yourself, you remind yourself of who you are and whose you are; let it enact a grace within you and lead you into pondering your baptism, where you were joined to Christ’s death and resurrection. Enter further into the mystery, not as its master, but someone looking to be mastered by it.
So, if questions about how to make the liturgy more palatable, shorter, or easier to understand lead to an impoverished view of the liturgy and a misunderstanding of it, what is the right question? Williams suggests that a better question is “whether the actions and the words performed convey any sense that something is happening that nobody there is doing.” Magudulela explains, “Liturgy is not our performance; it is God’s action. The words we speak and the actions we perform are not merely our own; they are the means by which the Holy Spirit works in and among us. Good liturgy conveys this sense of divine agency. It creates space for God to act. It does not insist on being the center of attention; it points beyond itself.” When we think of the liturgy, is it seen as a time of instruction and ends in our worship, or is it seen as the people’s work and worship, entering into the Divine Mystery and the work of God?
The word “liturgy” literally means, “the work of the people.” The point is not that our actions find an end in our worship; rather, our worship is the duty of each Christian to participate in the Divine work of God. Our liturgy has been passed down to us as a faithful way of receiving Christ in the sacrament and entering into the work that God is doing. It is by participating in the liturgy and worship of the Church that we not only join in on something greater than ourselves, but we are made human, because our end is not in ourselves but in God. So, when we think of the word “obligation,” we should think of an essential Christian duty. In this way, may we feel not just our legal obligation to worship God but also a participation in his mission and work, and be obliged to do so—though, you might note, you probably won’t hear me use this language frequently because of its vulnerability to misunderstandings. This shouldn’t, however, be about making you feel bad or be a judicial issue, but about the fullness of what it means to be human.
How then do we enter into the fullness provided in the mystery of the liturgy? Of course, by participating in it, even in the simple word “Amen”. Perhaps the most abundant and profound response in the service, this word joins each of us to the work that God is doing in our lives, at the altar, and throughout the world. Whether you are 1 or 100, it is the joyful duty, the task, of every Christian, every baptized person, to join their “Amen” to the chorus of the Church and the work of God. You may not always understand the words, or feel it within your emotions, but that is okay; the liturgy gives you the words you cannot utter, carries you along by the prayers of those around you, and a work is done in you and through you as you enter into the mystery and work of God.
Pax et Bonum,
Fr. Aaron