When our son Matthew was about three years old I heard him singing
the Agnus Dei at home. He was robustly
singing, “Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world; have mercy on us,”
again, and again, and again. The words
weren’t exactly in tune and at times it sounded more like “Wamb” than “Lamb,”
but the content was unmistakable. Now
that he is seven he has developed a beautiful singing voice. And on Sundays in the Divine Service you can
easily hear him singing out the Agnus Dei for the whole congregation to hear.
The liturgy of the Divine Service is drawn from the Bible
and it has been composed in a way that reflects the faith of the catholic (universal) and apostolic
Church. It is the Bible believed and
understood correctly. The liturgy
teaches us these things, and it does so by exposing us to these truths every
week. There is an old saying that “repetition is the mother of learning.” The repetition of hearing and singing the
words of the liturgy each week teaches us the catholic and apostolic faith, and
shapes and forms the way we think about the faith. This is a process that begins with the
smallest child and continues all throughout our life. It is not a process that ever ends or is
finished because the words and phrases, movements and actions of the liturgy invite
ever deeper understanding as we grow and mature as Christians.
The noted Lutheran church music historian and musician Carl
Schalk who taught at Concordia
University, Chicago has the the following insightful reflections on this topic in his
wonderful little book, First Person Singular: Reflections on Worship, Liturgy
and Children (St. Louis: Morningstar Music Publishers, 1998, 13-14):
“Tell me again,” children say, as we repeat a familiar
story for the hundredth time, “Tell me again!”
Some stories they know so well that they can say them right along with
us. Changing even a word or two brings
the instant response, “That’s not how it goes.”
How do children learn to throw a ball, to jump rope, to
tie a knot? Repetition! Not mindless repetition, to be sure, but
repetition which ultimately liberates them from concentration on the mechanics
and frees them to focus on the joy of doing whatever it is they are doing.
How do children learn to ride a bicycle? By practicing over and over, again and
again. Then suddenly – it falls into
place. They are riding! No longer consciously thinking about pumping
their legs, keeping their balance, or watching where they are going, all at
once it has come together – and they are riding! Free to enjoy the experience without thinking
about the individual actions that make it possible.
This is how all of us – children and adults alike – learn
to worship. Worship is best when the
actions of worship are second nature, when we don’t have to consciously be
asking ourselves, “What do we do now?”
As long as we are thinking, “What comes next?” or “Do we stand or sit or
kneel” we are not worshipping. We are
still learning to worship.
But what would happen if a child who has learned to move
the pedals clockwise, suddenly encounters a bicycle where the pedals work
counter-clockwise? Confusion,
frustration, and the prospect of having to learn all over again how to rise
that bicycle. That is why the Church
wisely uses the same basic forms and the same wording in its worship again and
again. Once learned, they become the
stable framework within which both children and adults are set free to
concentrate on what they are doing, saying, and singing.
When children – or adults – have learned that their
response to the Kyrie bids is “Lord, have mercy,” or that they answer the
petitions with “Hear our prayer,” they participate with confidence. When children – or adults – are confronted
each Sunday with new and different forms, there is bound to be confusion. They
don’t know what to say or do, or whether they should stand, sit, or kneel. In the attempt to fashion liturgies that seem
to adults to be more “interesting” or “meaningful,” we often place a
significant stumbling block in the way of truly meaningful worship.
Children – and adults as well – need a framework for
worship which is stable and unchanging.
Many so-called “creative” liturgies only foster confusion by constantly
changing what we do and how we do it.
What some promote as the way to greater participation in worship usually
serves only to diminish or squelch participation altogether.
So three cheers for doing worship in the same way week
after week. Rather than numbing monotony,
such repetition actually provides a framework within which both children and
adults are set free to give full attention to the content of the liturgy, and
to catch its fuller impact, significance, and meaning.
“Tell me a story,” children say. In the liturgy of the Church we do – the most
important story they will ever hear or learn.
And we tell it the same way – again, and again, and
again.
Thanks for this, Mark. I have a shut-in who suffers from advanced Parkinson's disease. She is generally unable to speak when I visit her...unless I'm leading her and her husband through the communion liturgy. Then she mouths the words to it. Repetition has prepared her for this point in her life.
ReplyDeleteYes, it is amazing to see how the liturgy prepares us to practice the faith, even to the very end of our abilities and life.
ReplyDeleteMy daughter, 5, sings the Sanctus...my son, 3, knows the Lord's Prayer and is learning the 10 Commandments...all from repetition. They both know the Christmas narrative and the Holy Week narrative. And that's from being responsible parents to tell the stories (share the faith) endlessly. Perhaps, it is because I'm a pastor...but, perhaps it is because that I grew up with learning the faith, via repetition, I would like my children to have the same future.
ReplyDeleteAnother good reason children should be in the service with their parents.
ReplyDelete