He was no fan of Catholicism, but he gave us our due. “We of the nonliturgical churches tend to look with some disdain upon those churches that follow a carefully prescribed form of service,” wrote A.W. Tozer,
one of the leaders of American Evangelicalism in the middle of the last century.
He writes about worship at the beginning of a book called God Tells the Man Who Cares. A lot of the liturgy “has little or no meaning for the average participant,” he writes. But then he adds: “This not because it is carefully prescribed but because the average participant is what he is.” He’s too harsh, but he’s not unfair, because he proceeds to say something similar to his own people.
“Our familiar impromptu service, planned by the leader twenty minutes before, often tends to follow a ragged and tired order almost as standardized as the Mass,” he writes. “The liturgical service is at least beautiful; ours is often ugly. Theirs has been carefully worked out through the centuries to capture as much of beauty as possible and to preserve a spirit of reverence among the worshipers.”
He does not accept the usual reasons Evangelicals gave for their “spontaneous” and “Spirit-led” way of worshiping. “Ours is often an off-the-cuff makeshift with nothing to recommend it. Its so-called liberty is often not liberty at all but sheer slovenliness. … There is neither order nor Spirit, just a routine prayer that is, except for minor variations, the same week after week, and a few songs that were never much to start with and have long ago lost all significance by meaningless repetition.”
It’s a useful passage for Catholics who suffer Evangelicals telling them that our religion is all rote, and that we think we can get into heaven just by going through the motions. “You guys do the same thing” isn’t the best apologetic argument, but it can be useful, especially when paired with Jesus’ warning about the beam in your eye. It can let you get a word in edgewise.
I bring it up, though, because Tozer, a very serious Christian, half-saw something important. Sinful, slothful, worldly human beings do sink into routine. We do go through the motions. Even the people, like the Evangelicals, who may believe they’re avoiding routine by avoiding set liturgies.
He knew too that we can also rise. He writes to urge other Evangelicals to do better. What he didn’t see was that the liturgy is the best way to rise. You can go through the motions like checking off the items on a to-do list. But you can also go through the motions because the motions are the way to do what you want to do.
As I say, Tozer half-saw this. “In the majority of our meetings,” he observed, “there is scarcely a trace of reverent thought, no recognition of the unity of the body, little sense of the divine Presence, no moment of stillness, no solemnity, no wonder, no holy fear. But so often there is a dull or breezy song leader full of awkward jokes.”
I can’t dance, but if I were going to learn to dance, I’d learn by following the steps, literally going through the motions. I’d have to pay close attention and practice a lot. But eventually (in theory) I’d learn the steps so that I danced without thinking about it. I’d still be going through the motions, but the motions would now be natural.
Tozer wanted holy fear, beauty, stillness, solemnity, wonder. He wanted the Mass. He just didn’t see it, because he didn’t understand how we learn to worship.
DAVID MILLS has edited Touchstone and First Things magazines and now writes columns for several Catholic publications.