Alternative Worship In The Liturgical Traditions

St. Gregory Nyssen Episcopal Church draws from the rich worship tradition of the entire church, particularly the Eastern tradition and from various cultures around the world. In addition to Word and sacrament, this worship emphasizes community, space, movement, silence and meditation, and social concern.

Newcomers to St. Gregory Nyssen Episcopal Church in San Francisco, California (founded 1978), are often surprised to find diverse traditional sources supporting the worship of this contemporary American parish. The space seems exotically arranged with folk art from East and West; the congregation shares in much music, dance, and prayer from churches long divided. Yet this rich mixture feels authentic and joyous and welcomes each worshiper's progress in knowing and loving God. That progress was the passionate concern of Gregory Nyssen (Gregory of Nyssa), a fourth-century Greek bishop who wrote, "The one thing truly worthwhile is becoming God's friend." Without implementing Gregory's liturgical ideas (he wrote none down) or reconstructing the worship he knew (he discouraged historicist piety), worship at St. Gregory's Church follows him in affirming the whole human experience of God as a boundless progress in friendship, rich with gifts for Christ's people to share. The 1979 Book of Common Prayer embraces creative diversity, and we intend our work to serve all who find it useful, as Christians from several denominations tell us they have done. Our liturgical choices mirror our choice of Gregory for our patron. People from many places receive and celebrate God's word. And like the bishop of Nyssa, our chief early models are Eastern models, which underlie the longest and sturdiest traditions of vernacular congregational worship. They have figured in most historical Christian revivals, particularly Anglican reforms. They serve today's interest in participatory liturgy and the ecumenical hunger for a loving fellowship spanning ages and cultures. Architecture. Early Syrian Christian synagogues and Byzantine churches inspire our layout, a rectangle of two equal squares. The western square holds seats in rows facing each other across an aisle ("choir seating") and are used for the service of the Word. The aisle (solea) runs up to a platform (bema) at the end wall, holding a broad chair for the presiding presbyter (the chair is a handsome Thai elephant howdah), flanked by chairs for deacons and cantors, and bowl-shaped bells from Japan and Tibet. The bells produce a long ring that helps the whole congregation to fall into deep, reflective silence following each Scripture reading. They are already our most widely copied adaptation. At the aisle's other end, centering the building, a lectern rises with a standing censer before it, candelabra on either side, and a menorah behind it. A small forest of lacy brass Ethiopian processional crosses with their colorful cloth streamers at once close the square for the service of the Word and lead the eye eastward to the altar square. On the walls hang large Ethiopian, Russian, and American icons of Christ's birth, baptism, passion, and resurrection, and beloved saints whose lives exemplify his victory over sin and death. The eastern square is mostly open space. At a sideboard by the north wall, arriving worshipers place canned goods for the poor and food for the eucharistic meal—an adaptation of a Jewish custom underlying diverse church practices. At the center, alone, stands the table where the congregation will give thanks, feast, and dance together. We cover the table in eye-catching cloth from African, Asian, or Native American folk weavers and dyers, following a calendar scheme of richness rather than color. Our Table is D-shaped, like dinner tables in Jesus' day. The shape invites people to gather around, and enables the clergy to reach vessels easily from the Table's flat western side, as ancient servants naturally needed to do. Thus the clergy preside among the people, rather than opposite them, and face always east, unifying both gatherings in a common movement, greeting Christ in his eucharistic banquet. Music. We greet Christ with an ocean of song. Music is the most powerful element in worship, and the strongest agent for participation and renewal. Our musical fare includes plain and polyphonic chants, old and new, and metrical hymns from wide-ranging sources, including our own compositions and anonymous folk works. We sing in parts (improvising these when appropriate), usually unaccompanied or supported by hand instruments scattered through the crowd. Our music director fills the church's most prominent lay office, and shares equally with the deacon in running our liturgy. The job demands skill in choral conducting and in inviting people to join in, no matter what their musical proficiency. Entry. The opening sets any service's context, especially for newcomers. By adapting the popular entry from early Byzantine cathedral worship, we welcome and involve people from the start. The clergy and people gather in our open altar area, greet one another with the universal Christian shout, "Christ is risen!"/"He is risen indeed!" and rehearse music for the service. Then all pour into the seating area together, chanting a rhythmic Alleluia refrain and verses and lighting the menorah and lectern candles. This entry procession ends with a blessing that begins the liturgy of the Word, and the first censing. The deacon burns incense in the standing thurible as all sing a hymn—normally the early Christian morning hymn called Gloria in Excelsis. The president concludes the hymn with a morning collect—during most of the year, a classic prayer by Erasmus. Scripture. Recalling Jewish worship as Jesus knew it, we open the Scriptures by singing the Sh?ma and add two further readings from the Episcopal church's three-year Sunday lectionary, ending always with the Gospel. Lay people read all readings under the deacon's guidance, including the Gospel, which a soloist or chorus chants to one of several traditional melodies. Each lection leads to two full minutes' silence, begun and ended by deep bells (see above), followed by a song suiting the Scripture. Because popular liturgy thrives on familiarity, we sing some texts constantly with a few varying musical settings, the changeable procession and dance hymns serve for two or three weeks at a time. "Seasonal" changes are scarce and simple. (Our people joke that there are two seasons at St. Gregory's: Easter and Easter's Coming.) From Easter to Pentecost we borrow the lively eastern Orthodox custom of singing the Easter Troparion from Jerusalem repeatedly through the service, each time to a melody from a different ethnic heritage, sharing the musical gifts of every Christian people. Sermon, Response, and Prayers. Following the Gospel and a second two-minute silence, the president preaches on the day's Scripture, sitting among the people as before, holding the Gospel book open for reference, and drawing always on personal experience. Then a third silence, and the congregation share their own experience in response. This is no time for questions or argument, but rather for fulfilling the sermon by allowing the Spirit to speak from our church's own life. Visitors have likened this conversation to Quaker meetings, from whence in fact it comes. Soon the preacher thanks everyone and shoulders the Gospel book, carrying it around the church while a cantor chants psalm verses. The people sing Alleluia refrains, pressing forward to touch and kiss the Gospel as it passes by—a warm Jewish and Ethiopian Christian ceremony enabling all to express their love for the Christ who speaks to us in Scripture. Announcements follow; then the people's prayers. We adapt the Lord's Prayer, likely used in New Testament times, for starting and guiding the congregation's prayer. All sing the Lord's Prayer (without doxology for now), and add their own spoken petitions and thanksgivings freely in a litany, as the congregation respond to each free petition. The deacon prompts these occasionally until prayer is offered for all the prayer book's recommended subjects. Then the president concludes with the prayer book's collect for the day; and all sing the Lord's Prayer doxology at the last. This method allows both fixed and free intercessions, and wraps each worshiper's prayer in the prayer of Christ. In conjunction with the prayers we may also welcome new members, or baptize using a portable font set on the bema platform where all can see. Dance and the Kiss of Peace. Congregational dance is a powerful primitive medium that European churches kept until modern times and that the Ethiopian church—the largest Eastern church—still keeps. Twice each Sunday, and for an hour on Easter, St. Gregory's people dance to hymns accompanied by Ethiopian sistrum rattles and African and native American drums. Our first dance follows the prayers, as the clergy lead the whole congregation to the table for the eucharistic banquet. Hands on each other's shoulders, we sing and march the simple tripudium step (three forward, one back—a fourth century step still used in Liechtenstein for this purpose). The procession circles the Table, censing it with belled Ethiopian thuribles, and then all exchange a moving kiss of peace. Our children have followed their own service of study, play, and prayers in Sunday school. They join us during the hubbub. And while the peace continues, the deacon takes bread and wine from the sideboard, setting them out on the Table, at last calling everyone's attention for the preface and great thanksgiving prayer. Thus our "offertory" involves the whole congregation, in the earliest style, as the people move directly from prayers to peace to preface to feast, not stopping to watch clergy handle donations until after Communion. Eucharist. The president blesses the congregation and summons their hearts heavenward. All stand round the table praying with hands raised high—the favorite early Christian prayer posture—while the president sings the entire great thanksgiving prayer (this normally follows an ancient Jewish Passover melody, now widely adapted). The people sing traditional response and acclamations. The president prays simply, without manual acts of any kind; the deacon attends to turn pages and shoo flies. Beside the prayers in The Book of Common Prayer, we often pray thanksgivings we have composed as the prayer book recommends. Following an early Syrian format, the thanksgivings recite salvation history in the light of the Scripture readings and end with the congregation singing the Sanctus and Benedictus hymns. During the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) hymn—another Syrian composition—the deacon brings extra vessels. The clergy divide the bread and wine for Communion, then raise these gifts, inviting all to eat and drink. Following Eastern custom, we give the Eucharist to each person by name, and all including the president receive from a fellow Christian's hand. The clergy give bread to each worshiper; the lay people administer chalices to each other, while lay ministers see to it the wine reaches everyone. As the remaining bread and wine return to the table, the president recites a prophecy from Baruch, promising salvation for all God's lost or oppressed people—a theme dear to Gregory of Nyssa. Then in thankful response to all God has given us, we gather money for the church's work and food for the hungry and lay these on the table with the remaining eucharistic gifts. Our second dance, the carol, follows the collection. Singing a hymn again, the people join hands and spiral around the gift-laden table, dancing a repetitive Greek step that matches the hymn rhythm, and accompanied again by drums and sistrums. Greek steps supremely suit this moment, for they move gently sideways, affording dancers a sensous experience of the community moving together. Six easy Greek steps will fit nearly half the hymns in the Episcopal Hymnal of 1982. The oldest of these steps were certainly known to New Testament Christians. The carol ends in one last congregational songburst as the deacon leads us singing "God grant you many years!" to people celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, to new members, and to our occasional guest preacher. Coffee and cakes now join the other gifts on the table, and the feast continues until the congregation have consumed the bread, wine, coffee, treats, and each other's company to satiety. Thus the one eucharistic table centers and supports our whole community life. Easter. We also offer other services in differing styles, including weekly Taizé meditation and the "Feast of Friends," an informal combined Eucharist and church supper following the second-century Didache text. But our chief variant, indeed the chief event of our congregation's life, is Easter. We keep this feast at night, as early Christians did, combining the ancient candlelight vigil of readings with a tumultuous Russian-style Easter party lasting until morning. After first experiencing the celebration, one member decided, "This is an Easter church; most churches are Christmas churches." A liturgy professor once told his students, "You have just had the closest possible experience to fourth-century Christian worship." We do aim to share the early church's experience. But churches share one living, growing heritage from those great missionary times, which we can use to bring our world into God's boundless friendship. That is always and everywhere the church's purpose: to build the one thing truly worthwhile.