Jonathan Landry Cruse speaks about worship. Cruse has written What Happens When We Worship (Reformation Heritage Books). Many churchgoers assume that worship is inherently boring, something we need to make exciting. But Cruse seeks to demonstrate that churchgoing only seems monotonous and mundane because our eyes are blinded to the supernatural wonder that is taking place all around us. In this conversation, we discuss the significance of worship and the elements that comprise it.

Rev. Cruse is pastor of Community Presbyterian Church in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Participants: Camden Bucey, Glen Clary, Jonathan Landry Cruse

Glen Clary speaks about the biblical basis and covenantal context of the call to worship and benediction. These elements of worship are rooted in Christ’s work on behalf of his covenant people.

In the call to worship, God calls his people to have covenant communion with him in his heavenly temple. He calls us to enter his house—to draw near to him—to have communion with him.

The benediction is the bestowal of the covenant blessing by the successful probationer. Had Adam obeyed, he would have received for himself and for all his posterity the covenant blessing. The covenant blessing would be given to those whom he represented in the covenant of works on the basis of his obedience. Now, Christ as redeemer and mediator of the covenant, the obedient federal head (successful probationer) receives and bestows the blessings of the covenant.

Participants: Camden Bucey, Glen Clary

Thank you to everyone who visited reformedforum.org/donate throughout the year. We are tremendously grateful for your generous support. Be assured that we’re setting the stage for another big year as our board continues to think and pray about our next steps.

We’re looking forward to another full year of Christ the Center. January 25 marked our 10th anniversary. Jeff, Jim, and I recorded that first episode during my first year in seminary—three homes and three children ago. Things have changed over the years, but our goal has stayed the same. Our mission is to present every person mature in Christ (Col. 1:28).

Episodes

• 524 — Marcus Mininger, Uncovering the Theme of Revelation in Romans 1:16–3:26
• 533 — Michael Kruger, How the Second Century Shaped the Future of the Church
• 540 — The Nature of Apostasy in Hebrews 6
• 542 — Bill Dennison, Karl Marx
• 551 — The Impeccability of Jesus Christ
• 555 — Darryl Hart, Still Protesting
• 556 — The Deeper Protestant Conception
• 566 — Glen Clary, The Liturgies of Bucer, Calvin, and Knox
• 570 — Danny Olinger, Geerhardus Vos: Reformed Biblical Theologian, Confessional Presbyterian
• 571 — Cory Brock and Nathaniel Gray Sutanto, Bavinck’s Philosophy of Revelation

Participants: Adam York, Bill Dennison, Camden Bucey, Cory Brock, Dan Ragusa, Danny Olinger, Darryl G. Hart, Glen Clary, Jared Oliphint, Jeff Waddington, Jim Cassidy, Lane G. Tipton, Marcus Mininger, Michael Kruger, Nathaniel Gray Sutanto

History of the Genevan Liturgy¹

By Bard Thompson²

Edited by Glen Clary

The first Reformer to arrive on the Genevan scene was the fiery Frenchman, William Farel, a fearless campaigner for the Word of God. As soon as he had gotten the Reformation underway (c. 1534), Farel replaced the Roman Mass by a liturgy, called La Maniere et fasson, which he had written some years before.³ His simple, wordy, but ardent services constituted the first evangelical book of worship in the French language. It was Farel who persuaded the retiring young Calvin to quit the scholar’s cell and get his hands into the difficult business of transforming Geneva into an evangelical community. Working side by side, they used the plain services of La Maniere when they conducted worship. In April of 1538, the two ministers were expelled from Geneva, having exceeded the patience of the magistrates by their program for a disciplined community. Calvin spent his exile in Strassburg, where he enjoyed the Christian wisdom of Martin Bucer, the Reformer of that city, whose influence upon the Reformed churches has never been fully appreciated. While he lived among the Germans of Strassburg, Calvin was pastor of a congregation of French refugees. For their sake, he appropriated Bucer’s German liturgy; and when he had gotten it cast into French, he revised it measurably and used it to lead his people in worship. That was the original edition of The Form of Prayers. We ought not say, as many scholars do, that it was a mere copy of the German rite of Strassburg. Actually, Calvin kept the best of Farel’s primitive liturgy and contributed much of his own spirit as he refashioned the words of Bucer. Calvin was recalled to Geneva in 1541. In place of Farel’s liturgy, he introduced The Form of Prayers, which he had brought along from Strassburg. Though the magistrates were glad enough to have him back, they could not accept some of the liturgical ideas which were written deeply into that liturgy. Chief of these was Calvin’s lifelong insistence upon having the Lord’s Supper every Sunday: “It was not instituted by Jesus for making a commemoration two or three times a year … Christians should use it as often as they are assembled.” The magistrates feared of such an innovation; they would not even entertain Calvin’s concession of having the Supper once a month, but insisted upon the schedule of quarterly Communion which had been proposed by Zwingli, the Reformer of Zurich. Even by the end of the sixteenth century, the Zwinglian method prevailed over a large segment of Protestantism and brought about the flattening-out of Reformed worship, which came more and more to be dominated by the sermon. The Genevan liturgy stood opposed to that drift. Despite the scruples of the magistrates, it remained a unified service of Word and Sacrament; on those days when the Lord’s Supper was not celebrated, the portions of the liturgy pertaining to the Supper were simply omitted. But Communion Sunday or not, the whole service was conducted from the Lord’s Table, except when the Minister mounted the pulpit to proclaim the Word of God. The two great symbols of Reformed worship—pulpit and Table—were thereby drawn together in common expression of the God who speaks and gives to His people. The essential response of those who worshiped was to bear and receive His gracious gifts. The Form of Prayers was the most authentic expression of the way of worship among the early Calvinists. Indeed, it was the inspiration for all the great Reformed liturgies of the Reformation age. Therefore it drew together in a fellowship of worship the Huguenots of France, the Presbyterians of Scotland, the Dutch Reformed congregations, and the German Reformed people (whose modern American representative is the United Church of Christ, through the Evangelical and Reformed branch). We should not assume, however, that all of these services were exactly alike. The Calvinists placed no particular premium upon a similarity of forms. What they really held in common was a body of ideas about the meaning of Christian worship. What were some of those ideas? First, the Calvinists agreed with Luther that a true Reformation could never be brought about by sheer human power, least of all by sudden and drastic changes in the life of the churches. It could only be accomplished by the proclamation of God’s Word among men. Luther, in fact, was very reluctant to impose a program of radical reforms upon the people, lest they become confused and bitter. He preferred to purify and reinterpret many of the old practices which Christians had been accustomed to see, hear and do in church. At just that point, the Reformed theologians tended to exceed Luther’s prudence. They argued that if the Gospel were to be given a really clear and authentic expression in worship, then it would be necessary to abandon the Mass, without attempting to fix it up, and to find new forms which would express the Gospel with the utmost simplicity, precision and power. Therefore, the Reformed liturgies had something of a radical character. They were meant to be profoundly simple. They did a lot of teaching, explaining and exhorting in an effort to edify and be precise. They rejected all things which were deemed unscriptural, ambiguous, or sentimental. They permitted no bric-a-brac to confuse the Gospel or complicate the essential need of the worshiper to meet God in His Word. Theological integrity was their hall mark. Calvin believed that his liturgy conformed “to the custom of the ancient church,” not to the custom of the Medieval church. The second idea has been alluded to several times. Our spiritual forebears went to church not to rush into words or to give God gifts, but to hear the Good News of forgiveness and sonship, and to receive that great gift with thanksgiving and joy. They conceived it to be God who spoke in worship, provided His Holy Spirit was in the midst of the congregation, making His Word real, alive and effective in the hearts of men. Therefore, in essence, a Reformed liturgy was the fervent prayer of the people to hear the Word of God and to participate in the Communion of His Son, and a heartfelt response of praise and supplication by those who had heard and received, whose faith became articulate so that they could not contain the joy and wonder of it all. Now, by modern practice, some things may seem strange about Calvin’s liturgy. What, for instance, is the meaning of that grisly list of sinners (on p. 7) who are told to stay away from the Lord’s Table? Calvin’s whole liturgy rested on the assumption that a true Christian community would be a disciplined community. And that idea, in turn, arose from his conviction that the Christian life was one of profound obedience to the will of God. Therefore, the Lord’s Supper was reserved for those “people who are distinguished by sincerity of faith and holiness of life.” Our Lord did not intend to give the benefits of His Table to any except His disciples, to any “except they belong to His household of faith.” The unfaithful, who were strangers to Christ, and the sinners, whose conduct made it plain that they did not belong to Him either, had no place at the fellowship meal; they must be excommunicated, excluded from the communion, fenced from the Table, lest the holy sacrament of our union with Christ and with one another become soiled and meaningless. Thus, the critical issue of the Christian life was precisely one’s fitness to go to the Lord’s Table. Calvin also handled the elements of bread and wine differently. He much preferred the use of common household bread, because it was more primitive and less likely to foster superstition. Grape juice, had it been invented, would scarcely have been the vogue in Geneva. Never was it the custom in the Reformed churches to prepare the Communion Table before worship or apart from the Word which “ought to resound in our ears as soon as the elements meet our eyes.” Fearful of idolatry, Calvin did not have the bread and wine brought to the Table until it was time for the Words of Institution and the Communion Exhortation, through which the very commands and promises of Christ could be added to the elements, giving them their true meaning. That, said Calvin, is the “Word which seasons the elements” and makes the sacrament valid. But we ought not suppose that the elements are thereby changed. We, the people, are the ones who are consecrated by this “lively preaching of the promises of Christ.” He does not address the bread, commanding it to become His body; He speaks to us, calling upon our faith and promising us the communion of His body and blood. Neither did Calvin believe that the ministers should be the last to receive the elements, as a gracious host would do at his own banquet. Christ Himself is both, the Host and the Food of this spiritual feast; and the ministers, who are leaders of Christians, should be the first to partake of it.

Notes

1. This short treatise on the Genevan Liturgy was published at the celebration of the four-hundredth anniversary of the Presbyterian Church held on November 18, 1959 at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tennessee.

2. Bard Thompson received his Ph.D. in church history from Columbia University in 1953 and was ordained as a minister in the Evangelical Reformed Church, which later merged with the Congregational Christian Churches forming the United Church of Christ. At the time this article was written, Thompson was Professor of Church History at Vanderbilt University. He was also preparing a book on Reformed worship, which he published under the title Liturgies of the Western Church (1961). In 1965, he joined Drew University as professor of church history and served as dean of the graduate school from 1969–1986. Bard Thompson passed away in 1987 at 62 years of age.

3. For a detailed history of the Genevan liturgies, see Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, pp. 183–224.

The Latin tag lex orandi, lex credendi may be construed in two ways. The more usual way makes the rule of prayer a norm for belief: what is prayed indicates what may and must be believed. But from the grammatical point of view it is equally possible to reverse subject and predicate and so take the tag as meaning that the rule of faith is the norm for prayer: what must be believed governs what may and should be prayed. The linguistic ambiguity of the Latin tag corresponds to a material interplay which in fact takes place between worship and doctrine in Christian practice: worship influences doctrine, and doctrine worship (Wainwright, 218).

Thus, the relationship between theology and liturgy is dialectical; it is a two-way relationship. Lex orandi, lex credendi is a two-directional principle; theology and liturgy are mutually formative; they are “correlative norms” (ibid., 161). Another theologian who has weighed in on the issue is Paul Marshall. Marshall offers a stinging critique of the interpretation of lex orandi, lex credendi by Kavanagh and Fagerberg.[7] They present, says Marshall, “the liturgy as simply a given that ‘the people’ receive passively, rather than actively participating in the formation and critique of that liturgy.” To claim that there is “a one-way street, from the divinely given liturgy to the human response of believing” is to perpetuate “a view of the liturgy that is fixed, authoritarian, and hierarchical” (Moore-Keish, 65). Contrary to this interpretation, Marshall claims that Prosper “never intended to posit liturgical action as the single norm that establishes Christian believing” (ibid.). Rather, “Prosper’s overall point, arguing against semi-Pelagianism, is that believing is a gift from God, not a human achievement” (ibid.). Prosper writes,

[L]et us look at the sacred testimony of priestly intercessions which have been transmitted from the apostles and which are uniformly celebrated throughout the world and in every catholic church … so that the law [or rule or pattern] of supplicating [not the more general orandi, ‘praying’] may establish [or confirm] the law [or rule or pattern] of believing [not ‘the faith’] (Marshall, 140).

Thus, Prosper appeals to the universal liturgical practice of praying for the salvation of all people, “not because it is the only source, or even the first source, for theological reflection, but because it is a reliable source that demonstrates the broad apostolic Christian faith” (Moore-Keish, 66). Whatever Prosper may have intended by his maxim, it has provided the occasion for a modern debate over the relationship between theology (lex credendi) and liturgy (lex orandi). This debate has divided Protestants and Catholics since the time of the Reformation. The Reformers’ Catholic opponents usually conceded that, while the substance of their eucharistic theology had its foundation in scripture, there were aspects of the Mass (such as the Roman Canon) that had developed over time. Like their medieval forebears, 16^th century Catholic apologists assumed that the lex orandi should determine the lex credendi. Scripture was a source of Catholic doctrine but so were the liturgical practice of the church and testimony of the fathers. Thus the fact that many Catholic liturgical practices had no explicit scriptural warrant was not necessarily problematic for Catholic apology.[8] On the other hand, the Reformers believed that certain biblical doctrines were incompatible with various liturgical practices in the Roman church. For example, the Roman Mass—particularly the sacrificial language of the Latin canon—was hardly compatible with the doctrines of the perfection of Christ’s atonement and of justification by faith alone. Like the gift of justification, Protestants saw the Lord’s Supper as a gift (beneficium) received from God and not a sacrifice (sacrificium) offered to God. Protestant theology, therefore, inevitably led to changes in the liturgy. Hence, the Reformers believed that lex credendi could exercise control over lex orandi “when it came to forms of existing worship that needed correction” (Irwin, 16). Theology can critique worship and improve it where necessary. The Latin maxim lex orandi, lex credendi offers a helpful corrective to the common tendency in modern Protestant circles to bifurcate theology and liturgy as two independent branches of ecclesial life.[9] Theology and liturgy are, in fact, interrelated and mutually formative. True doctrine forms the foundation of true worship, and true worship is an expression of true doctrine. Theology shapes the church’s liturgy, but over time, the worship of the church will inevitably influence its theology. Both theology and liturgy must be derived from scripture alone, since it is the only infallible rule for faith and worship. Endnotes [1] See David W. Fagerberg, Theologia Prima: What is Liturgical Theology? (Chicago/Mundelein, IL: Hillenbrand Books, 2004) 39–69. [2] Martha L. Moore-Keish, Do This in Remembrance of Me: A Ritual Approach to Reformed Eucharistic Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008) 12. [3] Frank C. Senn, The People’s Work: A Social History of the Liturgy (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2006) 227. [4] See Geoffrey Wainwright, Doxology, The Praise of God in Worship, Doctrine and Life: A Systematic Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980) 225–26. [5] See Kevin Irwin, Liturgical Theology: A Primer (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1990) 46–47. [6] Bryan D. Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me: The Eucharist from the Early Church to the Present Day (London: SCM Press, 2013) xii. [7] Moore-Keish, 65. See Paul V. Marshall, “Reconsidering ‘Liturgical Theology’: Is There a Lex Orandi for All Christians?” in Studia Liturgica 25 (1995): 129–51. [8] Nicholas Thompson, Eucharistic Sacrifice and Patristic Tradition in the Theology of Martin Bucer, 1534–1546 (Leiden: Brill, 2005) 4–5. [9] Cf. Alexander Schmemann, “Liturgy and Theology,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 17, no. 1 (1972): 86–100.