The Moral Significance Of Worship

Though we commonly think of worship as being for God's benefit, humans are also uplifted through the action of corporate worship. In this article, written from a sociological position, the author explains that the regularity of worship serves to maintain the individual in a continual state of moral tension. In worship the filter through which one views the world is regularly challenged, amended, and revitalized.

Worship is a subject which religious educators often ignore. Perhaps the reason for this is that worship seems disconnected from the realm of moral experience. Indeed, such works as Peter Berger's early book, The Noise of Solemn Assemblies, reflects this sense of the hiatus separating religious rite and ritual from everyday life. In the pages which follow, however, I wish to argue that in spite of a viable critique that may be issued against the linkage between worship and moral experience, there is an important case to be made that religious educators should not ignore the vital role which worship experience may play in shaping the moral life. Worship: A Conservative Force? Undoubtedly one place to locate the historic origins of the ambivalence which religious educators have felt towards worship is within the framework of Emile Durkheim's assertion that the object of worship is society: its values and collective sentiments (Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life, trans. Joseph Ward Swain [New York: Free Press, 1965]). Obviously such a functionalist perspective casts worship in a very conservative role (i.e., baptizing the values of the dominant culture). It is, of course, also from Durkheim that the notion of a "?civil religion?" comes, followed in recent times by a number of commentators seeing in such a development a nonheroic, nonprophetic expression of religion. From another perspective worship has also been identified as conservative, and that is in the identification of worship with otherworldly mysticism. Although the mystics of the church have almost always denied the charge of narcissism (Cf. Evelyn Underhill, The Essentials of Mysticism [New York: Dutton, 1960]), critics have often viewed mystics as inward, devoid of any redeeming social role (however glorious their private ecstatic experiences may be). Countering the mysticism-narcissism conjunction, however, is the witness of numerous powerful figures who have combined the inner with the outer life: not the least of whom in the contemporary period are such "?saints?" as Thomas Merton and Mother Theresa [cf. Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (New York: Doubleday, 1971)]. Whatever negative perspective one may have on the moral significance of worship, one must acknowledge the widespread recognition by anthropologists and sociologists that rite and ritual are central to the unity and sustenance of communal experience, and therefore not to be lightly debunked (cf. Ronald Grimes, "?Ritual Studies: A Comparative Review of Theodor Gaster and Victor Turner,?" Religious Studies Review 2:4 (October 1976): 13–25; Hans Mol, Identity and the Sacred [New York: Free Press, 1976]; Sally F. Moore and Barbara G. Myerhoff, eds., Secular Ritual [The Netherlands: Van Gorcum, 1977]). Durkheim states that it is in the cult that one most clearly feels oneself to be a member of the collectivity. He likewise argues that every group has a need periodically to renew itself through collective rites and rituals (Durkheim, Elementary Forms, 240ff, 475). Without ritual assemblage, the autonomous individual lacks a feeling of union with the community. Hence, however cynical some commentators may be about worship experience, without rite and ritual religious institutions would not long sustain themselves. Although I do not wish to counter the accuracy of such commentators as Herberg, Berger, and others who critique religious institutions for the nonprophetic role which they often assume (cf. Will Herberg, Protestant-Catholic-Jew [New York: Doubleday, 1955]), I do, on the other hand, wish to argue in this essay that worship—on four different levels—potentially plays a positive role in the development of the moral life. First, moral identity is crafted in community. To the extent that every community is a "?moral community?" (cf. Emile Durkheim, The Division of Labor, trans. George Simpson [New York: Free Press, 1964], 26; Ernest Wallwork, Durkheim: Morality and Milieu [Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1972], 75–119), and to the extent that worship functions as the central incorporative moment within the life of the religious community, worship and moral identity are closely linked. Second, the drama or worship and liturgy serves to image in a variety of ways an ideal moral order in which symbols, metaphors, pictures, and stories potentially exercise a considerable role in providing an individual with a persuasive moral vision guiding lifestyle choices. Third, it is in worship that the individual potentially experiences the "?otherness?" that lends authority and legitimation to the moral vision thus proclaimed. Fourth, worship provides the structure, psychologically—through the rites of confession, absolution, and the announcement of "?new hope?"—for personal moral transformation. The "?mental picture?" operant as a reference point in the discussion which follows is the liturgical form of worship practiced in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition. By electing this particular style of worship as a point of reference, I do not wish to preclude from consideration more nonliturgical styles of worship—indeed, I believe there is as much ritual (if not more) in the worship service of a Southern Baptist congregation, or a Pentecostalist church, as there is in a Catholic, Lutheran, or Episcopal church (the former may be outwardly less "?ritualistic,?" but the worship style itself conforms nevertheless to a highly structured "?ritual form?" as regards appropriate and inappropriate behavior, with drama being a not insignificant aspect of the entire experience), nor do I wish to imply that the position articulated applies only to the Christian context; I believe what I have to say holds equally true for the Jewish worship experience, as I have observed it and read about it. One further qualification is in order. Just as various forms of worship are not homogeneous, likewise the response to worship is not uniform. The key term in assessing the moral significance of worship is "?intentionality?" (cf. Maurice Natanson, Edmund Husserl [Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1973], 84–104). The effect and importance of worship to the individual is dependent, first, upon the frame of reference which the individual brings to worship, and secondly, upon the meaning which the individual imputes to his or her experience of worship. Nevertheless, what occurs in the context of worship itself is not unimportant, for "?reality?" is always created in the dialectical exchange between what is external to consciousness and the filter of expectations which are brought to an experience (cf. Alfred Schultz, The Phenomenology of the Social World, trans. George Walsh and Frederick Lehnert ([Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1967]), 45–96). The Incorporative Role of Worship Moral identity is not structured in social isolation (cf. Herbert D. Saltzstein, "?Social Influence and Moral Development: A Perspective on the Role of Parents and Peers,?" in Thomas Lickona, ed., Moral Development and Behavior [New York: Rinehart and Winston, 1976], 253–265). It is through interaction with particular individuals and through group associations that moral identity is formed. Morality is necessitated because man exists in a social world, and it is with other people that individuals negotiate their views of what constitutes appropriate social and personal relatedness. The significance of religious communities is that traditionally they have been the repositories and promulgators of specific value positions—membership in a religious institution implying one's commitment to an identifiable style of life and set of value commitments. In worship these values are announced and one is invited to join in their celebration and in the acknowledgment of the wellsprings from which they originate and by which they are sustained. Worship is certainly not the only context in which values are internalized, but for some individuals—for whom the religious community is a primary reference group—worship is the central moment in their lives for systematic moral challenge. And I would argue, that is as it should be. Participation in corporate worship brings one under the symbolic frame which governs communal existence, thus potentially influencing personal attitudes, dispositions, and proclivities toward action. In any assemblage there is a considerable incorporative power in the very presence of a group of people who are united in a common act. Studies in mob psychology demonstrate repeatedly the power of a group to enclose in its ranks those who are on the fringe or periphery. An individual may be standing watching a demonstration or rally, and before long someone has stuck a picket sign in his or her hands and he or she is shouting and marching with the throng, a convert to the movement. Something not unlike this process potentially happens in worship, to a greater or lesser degree. There is an incorporative power in the liturgy: in group confessions of faith, the singing of songs, corporate recitations, and so on—each of which invites the individual to be part of the community. As one participates in these acts, one may indeed feel oneself become more a part of the collectivity. Internally this feeling may be expressed as the sense: "?These are my people, my group, my tribe; this is where I belong.?" As part of worship there may be rather specific incorporative rites and rituals which signal to the individual and to the community one's decision to affiliate with the group. Baptism and confirmation rites are, of course, the most common examples within Christendom, and bar mitzvah within Judaism, although every religious tradition has its equivalent rites of passage (cf. Arnold Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, trans. Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee [London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1990]). These ceremonies are milestones in that they symbolically "?mark?" one as a member of a particular community. This stigmatizing act is important in that it provides one with a social identity. The collectivity into which one is initiated becomes a reference group to the individual, and individuals within the group function as "?significant others?" to the new member. In the act of membership the individual acquires specific reference points for personal behavior and development (cf. Robert K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure [New York: Free Press, 1968], 279–440). In short, in facing specific moral quandaries, the group (and individuals within it) potentially functions in an "?ideal observer?" role a guides to what constitutes an appropriate moral response. In addition to specific incorporative rituals, such as baptism and confirmation, there are other collective acts which serve to unify the individual with the community and with the tradition within which members of the community stand. One of these acts is the collective recitation of creeds. Within Christendom, to say the Apostles' or Nicene Creed is to affirm that there is a common symbolic core which all members of the community share. Even if this common symbolic is recognized as mythic, the impact of sharing a common story is unifying. In parallel fashion, Scriptures which are read—again regardless of whether or not they are interpreted as fact or fiction—elaborate the common ground of those who stand within the tradition. The importance of labeling oneself as belonging to a specific tradition or religious community cannot be underestimated. Morality is not cultivated in the private sphere so much as it is arrived at through one's interaction with others, through identifying oneself as being "?this?" and not "?that?" (cf. Bryan Wilson, "?Them Against Us,?" Twentieth Century 172:1017 [Spring 1963]: 6–17). The very act of typifying oneself as belonging to a particular group establishes an identity that carries with it certain expectations (cf. Alfred Schutz, On Phenomenology and Social Relations, edited and with an introduction by Helmut R. Wagner [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970], 116–122). Every group is organized around specific shared sentiments, and thus group membership necessarily implies one possesses (at some level) a "?moral identity?" insofar as every group is (at some level) a "?moral community.?" Moral Vision in Worship Theology and ethics, description and prescription, are almost always intertwined in worship (cf. Gene Outka and John P. Reeder, eds., Religion and Morality [New York: Anchor/Doubleday, 1978]). In everyday life, the so called "?naturalistic fallacy?" is regularly committed. Moral prescriptions flourish in great abundance in worship and most often times they are paired with statements about the nature of God, the nature of the human, what portends for the future, what has gone on in the past, and so on. One side of these prescriptions is inevitably stated negatively as prohibitions. But another, and perhaps more important dimension of the moral significance of worship is the range of positive images of what life can and should be. Worship services are often highly successful at conjuring affirmative images—of peace, love, justice and a host of other positive mental pictures of what social existence might be. Robert Bellah states: "?There is a natural movement from liturgy, which is communion, to brotherhood, to caring and curing, to social concern?" (Robert N. Bellah, "?Liturgy and Experience,?" in James D. Shaughnessy, ed., The Roots of Ritual [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1973], 217–234]. In the Christian community, Jesus is the symbolic form onto which moral virtues are projected and through which the Christian understands his ethical responsibilities (cf. H. Richard Niebuhr, The Responsible Self [New York: Harper and Row, 1963], 149–178). But Jesus is not the only symbolic form present in the context of worship. Not insignificant is the ambiance created through architectural forms: the beauty of symmetrical arches, the luminescence of stained glass windows, the smooth and worn feel of polished mahogany. Such architectural expressions share a congruence of spirit with the prodigious organ and choral works which fill these cavernous stone and wood forms. But perhaps central in many worship contexts is the focus on the verbal expressions present in the sermon. It is in the spoken word that "?mental pictures?" of specific moral ideals are imaged. Every religious tradition is filled with stories, parables, and biographies which admit to elaboration and revivification. The function of images in worship is predicated upon the assumption that man is a symbolic animal, one who understands himself through images, stories, and myths (cf. Ernst Cassirer, An Essay on Man [New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1944]; Susanne K. Langer, Philosophy in a New Key [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1942]). Although man's symbolic capabilities permit him to think abstractly and propositionally, man reflects largely in pictures and images (as indicated by the rich repository of images latent within every religious tradition). These pictures have evocative power, as opposed to simply rational persuasiveness. For example, in Christendom, to talk about being "?like Christ?" clearly has meant to imitate the mental "?picture?" one has of the earthly Jesus. The idea of a Messiah, or of a coming Kingdom, have equally obvious evocative power as a result of the image which each conjures. The importance of these images is that they potentially become the "?guiding line?" (what Alfred Adler called later in his career "?fictional goals?") (Alfred Adler, The Individual Psychology of Alfred Adler, edited and annotated by Heinz L. Ansbacher and Rowena R. Ansbacher [New York: Harper and Row, 1964], 76–100) by which individuals make life style decisions. They give direction to life. They provide ideals for which one may strive. They impact life style choices insofar as they picture holistic models of what it means to be truly human. There is a sense in which propositions about what is bad, wrong, or prohibited do not give the same overarching direction to life as do exemplary biographies or utopian social images (e.g., the "?picture?" of the faith of Abraham, or the "?image?" of the lion lying down with the lamb). In the parables and stories of almost every religious tradition one finds dramatized the universal conflicts of life. One sees in picture form the battles between good and evil and the struggle of individuals to contend with themselves, God, and those around them. Such images permit personal identification in the present with these historic personages and their problems—and the resolutions they found to them—and hence such stories perform an important role in providing universal paradigms (known collectively by those in the community, and thus enabling a common moral discourse) upon which one may project one's personal struggle. The achievement of the worship experience is contingent upon the degree to which it allows one to view the world differently as a result of participating in the drama of the liturgy. Within worship one is invited to look upon life with different eyes. One is invited to see "?God's hand?" in the events which greet one in reading the morning newspaper. One's personal existence is said to have meaning beyond the pragmatic problem of survival. A cosmic perspective is superimposed upon the everyday world and one is encouraged to respond to the world as the creation of God. To so perceive the social and physical world (as God's creation) is to imply a particular moral response, one in which the task of life is to live according to the divine will, rather than one's own. A Legitimating Presence On the level of purposeful intention, many individuals would state that the express reason for worship is to praise and glorify God. In the discussion heretofore our attention has focused primarily on the latent, as opposed to express, functions of worship. It would be inappropriate, however, to lose sight of the expressly theological dimension of worship as experienced by those who engage regularly in worship. People come to worship, to praise God, to "?sit?" in his presence, to beseech him, to celebrate what he has done in the community and in their own lives. Furthermore, individuals report that they feel God's presence while worshiping. The ways in which such experiences of the divine may be understood are, of course, subject to manifold interpretations, but I believe it is important to be both phenomenological as well as pragmatic at this point; if an individual feels that he or she experiences God, then God is real to them, and his or her life is correspondingly affected. The importance of the experience of the mysterium tremendum in worship (cf. Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy [London: Oxford University Press, 1950]; Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane, trans. Willard R. Trask [New York: Harper and Row, 1957], 8–13ff) is that its "?otherness?" lends authority, or one might say a "?legitimating presence,?" to the ethical vision which is presented in worship. The moral demands presented in the liturgy and the sermon are potentially subject to objectification: perceiving these pronouncements to be of nonhuman (godly) origin, and, therefore, possessing ultimate authority (cf. Peter L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy [New York: Doubleday, 1967], 11ff). A behavior-istically inclined psychologist might view this process as conditioning through "?paired association,?" where because the individual's experience of "?otherness?" is associated in time and space with a particular moral vision and set of pronouncements, both become imbued with a sacred quality. In other words, the worshiping individual maybe likely to associate his entire experience within worship as participating in the realm of the sacred, thus also baptizing the moral pronouncements announced in worship with a certain otherworldly facticity. It is outside the sociologist's or psychologist's purview as to whether or not what the individual experiences is to be identified as real; subjectively it is real to the one who claims it to be, and consequently it affects his or her behavior in a corresponding manner. The moral significance of one's experience of the sacred within worship is that potentially one "?sees?" things differently (to the extent that one believes there is another reality beyond that of one's everyday consciousness). The altered vision in which one, for example, "?sees through the eyes of Christ?" is contingent upon affirming that there is another dimension (or perspective) which potentially transfigures the purely material conception of everyday activities. In his Report to Greco, Nikos Kazantzakis tells of the words spoken to him by a monk at Sinai: "?One morning you will rise and see that the world has changed. But you will have changed, my child, not the world. Salvation will have ripened in you.?" H. Patrick Sullivan states that the "?fall?" of man was the move into a divided consciousness in which he was no longer able to see the rootedness of all things in the sacred. In worship this dividedness is potentially transcended as the individual experiences a union between himself and what he perceives to be the very ground of his existence. The Rites of Transformation Within worship the potential for transformation of personal consciousness is related to three moments within the liturgy: confession, absolution, and various affirmations of "?new life.?" Psychologically, these three occasions in worship form a perfect triumvirate as regards moral change: first, the individual admits to the moral transgressions and failures of the past; second, the individual is freed through absolution (or forgiveness) from the guilt of these failures; and finally, one is offered a vision of hope for a new direction in life. For worship to deal with any of these areas without the other two circumvents the complex unity of this psychological process. Moral transformation implies "?death?" to the old ways in order that "?birth?" may be given to a new way of life. Absolution, however it is experienced, is the central moment standing between confession and a vision of new possibilities in the future. These three moments in worship, of course, have their parallel in the transformative process of psychotherapy. The patient (or client) "?confesses?" to the therapist or psychiatrist the failures of his past; the therapist "?absolves?" him or her by accepting these confessions in a nonjudgmental fashion; finally, the therapist works with the patient to build a new, hopefully less destructive, pattern for the future. In one sense, there is nothing novel about psychotherapy: the therapist is repeating the priestly function with few changes except for a modernized vocabulary, and a couch rather than a pew. The power of worship lies in its regularity. Week after week one is confronted with the occasion to recognize both those things "?which one has done?" as well as "?those things which were left undone.?" Week by week one is granted forgiveness. And week by week one is invited to a new wholeness of being. Although it is possible that such recitations are done unthinkingly, by rote, it is also possible, and for many individuals a reality, that the regularity of worship serves to maintain the individual in a continual state of moral tension. In worship the filter through which one views the world is regularly challenged, amended and revitalized. As the "?real?" and the "?ideal?" face each other in worship, the occasion for symbolic reordering is provided. Old images are discarded in order to give way to new images; past ideals are replaced with new models. Within this framework, perhaps the transformative power of the "?Confession of Sin?" (The Book of Common Prayer, 1979) can be appreciated.

Almighty and most merciful Father,

we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep, we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts, we have offended against thy holy laws, we have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.

These words are followed by a statement of absolution. The impact of making such a confession, however, is surely to place the recitator in a state of moral tension, reminding him or her of the disparity between what he or she affirms mentally and what he or she practices. The various "?Collects?" likewise function to remind the individual that he does not live unto himself. Note, for example, the "?Collect for Guidance?" (The Book of Common Prayer, 1977).

O heavenly Father, in whom we live and move and have our being: We humbly pray thee so to guide and govern us by thy Holy Spirit, that in all the cares and occupations of our life we may not forget thee, but may remember that we are ever walking in thy sight; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

What is important in such a statement is the implication that life operates on more than one level. If one elects to be a part of this particular religious community, whatever it might be, then one does not live on the purely pragmatic plane; one lives "?in God,?" and "?through Christ?"—however this experience may be symbolized in one's consciousness. In conclusion, I have attempted to articulate—from a somewhat phenomenological perspective—the possible moral significance of worship. As related to religious education, my primary point has been to emphasize the central role which worship may play in shaping moral identity. The cognitive—teaching dimension—is important in the educative experience, but not to be ignored is the affective experience obtained in worship.