Fed up with `hymn sandwiches'? Evangelicals in search of new fare are plundering the menus of other, more liturgical traditions.

E.A. Theological Secretary David Hilborn looks at the background, alternative worship pioneer Mike Starkey surveys the current scene, and Acute Chair Ian Randall weighs up the arguments for sampling from other worship traditions

David Hilborn writes: `Services are places to stop on the M1; we aim for worship.' New Church leader Gerald Coates may not be an etymologist, but he has a good turn of phrase. Many evangelicals would say that he also has a point.

The Latin servitum divinum may once have referred to the serene choir offices of the ancient church. `Divine Service' may once have meant Anglican matins and evensong. But the concept of the `church service' has long since been broadened to include all forms of church worship. Whatever our tradition, most of us still advertise `service times' and invite people to `our service'. But as Gerald Coates realised, this might all be getting a bit stale. Not least among younger Christians engaged in the so-called `alternative worship movement', `services' have become synonymous with an outdated religion of dour church buildings, hard pews and hymns which are `sandwiched' between monologues led entirely from the pulpit.

And whether we like it or not, evangelicals (myself included) have been responsible for more than our fair share of such services down the years. The reasons for this are both positive and negative.

On the credit side, our evangelical forebears did much to re-establish the ministry of the Word in worship after centuries of neglect. Whereas medieval priests often recited set homilies from a book or ignored sermons completely, Martin Luther restored vernacular preaching to a central place in the liturgy. In Zurich, Ulrich Zwingli went even further, convening a special `Service of the Word' distinct from the celebration of the Lord's Supper. These moves were an antidote to the `vain repetitions' of a Latin Mass which many ordinary worshippers could not understand. But by the end of the 17th century, the pendulum had swung too far the other way. For all its virtue, the Puritans' zeal for sound exposition had colonised every other part of worship. Congregational participation was often reduced to a mumbled `Amen' at the end of confession or petition.

There were exceptions, of course, but this pattern of clergy-dominated, word-based worship had a big influence. Indeed, this pattern has only been seriously challenged by Western evangelicals in recent times. The phenomenal growth of Pentecostalism, with its more corporate, experiential emphasis, has been one factor in this. But more recently, the `pick and mix' ethos of postmodern culture has prompted a new generation of evangelicals to borrow from traditions outside their own in an attempt to relate the Gospel to a more sensory, less rationalistic world. For some, this has meant fusing nightclub culture with Celtic mysticism. Others have been drawn to contemplative prayer as a response to New Age spirituality, while others have been led into a more wholesale embrace of High Church liturgies.

Such developments have their pitfalls, of course - and critics can point to the scandal of the self-consciously postmodern Nine O'Clock Service in Sheffield as one reason to resist them. Still, NOS was part of something much bigger. Whether it was an aberration or a portent remains to be seen. Either way, the standard evangelical `service' of the 20th century may well be unrecognisable 100 years from now. -

David Hilborn, theological secretary of the Evangelical Alliance and minister at The City Temple in central London writes: We all know `evangelical' means a particular approach to theology. But does it also mean a particular style of worship? In practice, this has tended to be the case. Most evangelical services have been Low Church, uncluttered and centred on a lengthy, expository sermon. Notably absent have been the trappings of the High Churches.

Historically, one of the most abusive terms in the evangelical vocabulary has been `ritualist'! But something is afoot. Growing numbers of evangelicals are tiring of their informal `hymn sandwiches' and are off in search of new fare. In their search, they are plundering the menus of other, more liturgical traditions. In 1987, Campus Crusade worker Peter Gillquist led 2,000 evangelicals into the Antiochan Orthodox Church. This was the start of a flood which has led many evangelicals beyond their denominations, particularly into Orthodoxy and the liturgical end of Anglicanism.

One of the current success stories in the USA is the Charismatic Episcopal Church, founded by Pentecostals, which mixes renewed evangelical theology and sacramental worship. Key elements in the evangelical liturgical revival include: re-emphasizing Holy Communion and increasing its frequency; a greater use of the senses in worship (leading to the use of items such as incense and candles); a sense that worship is a grand drama to be entered into (hence the use of liturgies, vestments and symbolic actions); and a rediscovery of silence and mystery.

How should the wider evangelical constituency view this shift `up the candle'? Some feel it is a Trojan horse, which will end up smuggling in not only new worship, but unacceptable aspects of Catholic doctrine too. They see Low Churchmanship, centred on the preaching of the Word, as the natural expression of the evangelical faith. Those exploring other worship traditions disagree. They say it is possible to be fully evangelical, but to cook with a broader range of ingredients. The result, they say, is richer fare which both edifies the worshipper and honours God. They see themselves as the legitimate heirs not only of the Reformers, but of two millennia of church tradition. -(Mike Starkey, alternative worship pioneer)

Ian Randall writes: Evangelical traditions in worship can be properly celebrated. Evangelicalism has reason to reflect with gratitude on its great heritage of preaching. CH Spurgeon was the `prince' of Victorian preachers. In our own century, we have been privileged to have preaching modelled by Martin Lloyd-Jones and John Stott. There are great hymns and fine contemporary songs which characterise evangelical worship. We also value extempore prayer. But what about a weekly participation in the Lord's Supper? Is that part of the evangelical heritage?

John Calvin, ministering in Geneva in the 16th century, wanted weekly communion, but never achieved it. Spurgeon also believed the Lord's Table should be central. Many evangelical Anglican congregations have moved in this direction. In the 19th century, however, the trend was largely due to the influence of the High Church Oxford Movement.

For some evangelicals the right course is to resist any practices in worship which come from other traditions. This has at times included opposition to having a cross in church. In some congregations it has meant a fear of liturgy or of silence. We certainly need to be aware that there are contemporary pressures to borrow uncritically from other traditions. Perhaps the questions we need to ask, however, are not about liturgical origins but about whether what we include in worship helps us to focus on God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - and to respond in obedience. Rather than being fearful about evangelical worship being infected, we may want to consider more seriously the wisdom of some of the older patterns of worship and possibly examine with a somewhat critical eye several of our recent innovations. For example, I have found that churches which would not be classed as evangelical often give more space to the reading of the Bible than do some within our constituency. Services which major on singing songs may include very little Scripture.

The challenge is to be aware that there is always room for reform and to draw from the treasures of Christian tradition in such a way as to preserve and enrich that which is distinctive to evangelical worship. -Ian Randall, chair of the Alliance Commission on Unity & Truth among Evangelicals (Acute)

IT'S PURELY ACADEMIC

While the greatest evangelists and missionaries have had relatively little training, the professional pastoral ministry, ideally, requires a person of broad experience, good general education, placid temperament and a firm and systematic grasp of ideology. Determining whether a candidate really has the "call of God" is not easy. Christian history, both ancient and modern, is liberally decorated with rejects of the "establishment" who foment massive revival and approved darlings of the power mongers who goof out catastrophically. God is telling us something.
        Recent performance of the Presbyterian Theological Centre at Burwood has shown that in the case of "anglos" it tends to turn out ministers who don't survive their first call. Of its current enrolment, only a minority are candidates for the Presbyterian Ministry. If it relied on these alone it would lose its status as a TAFE. Furthermore, at a time when the financial base of the church is shrinking, the PTC consumes more than 30% of the General Mission Program, exceeding even the allocation to Ministry and Mission.
        The desperate struggle to keep PTC afloat as the flagship of the "new wave church", padding up enrolments, snatching at accreditation, scrounging money and all the time vetting who is or is not, in the estimation of the lecturers, "worthy enough" to teach and learn, must surely cause thinking people to ask whether there just might be a better way.
        Students under such a regime, though encouraged to "speak out", know full well that anything they say may be taken down, edited and used against them. The survivors are the unswervingly servile. It is worth considering that our denomination is just too small to support such a system. The tasks of vetting candidates for the Ministry and advanced instruction in the Christian Faith ought to be kept apart otherwise PTC will continue to turn out square pegs for the parochial round holes.
        Graham Guy's experience of "the system" was that he could not learn Greek until he abandoned the PTC and took instruction at the University of Sydney, and he received consistently better marks from external examiners than he did internally at PTC. But, of course, Graham Guy was entirely to blame.

WHERE DO YOU TURN ?

The Pastoral Relations Commission was regarded as "bad law" when it was introduced. It was designed to deprive a "target" clergyman of his rights of appeal (which can be extensive in the hands of a skilled operator) so that the convenience of the denomination might be observed. It was framed without consideration of the principles of "duty of care" and "fair dealing" on the assumption that members of the Commission would always act honourably. A clergyman might become "targeted" if he was a nuisance to the power brokers of the denomination because of his reputation and actions. Because of the recent revision of the Mental Health Act, formal discipline proceedings under the new General Assembly Code of Discipline are still seen as problematical, even unworkable. The Cameron Case (1994) clearly demonstrated that.
        How does the Pastoral Relations Commission short-circuit due process ?
        First of all, it is a closed commission. Generally commissions of the New South Wales Assembly are "open" to all members. Any chicanery within a commission of the Assembly would normally become common knowledge. While much of the Pastoral Relations Commission's work is done in private "conflict resolution", this kind of work does not require the powers of a commission of the General Assembly. The NSW Baptist Union and the General Assembly of Victoria have effective trouble-shooting teams without these powers. The powers of the Pastoral Relations Commission to dissolve a pastoral tie and. effectively to report only cursorily to Assembly, are entirely designed to place its actions above question.
        When the Pastoral Relations Commission dissolves a pastoral tie, it does not have the same effect as if a Presbytery were to dissolve the association. While a Presbytery may hand over the right to adjudicate on the possible dissolution of a pastoral tie, what it effectively does, in so doing, is to deprive the targeted minister of any right of appeal. When the Pastoral Relations Commission sacks a minister, it is the Assembly who sacks the minister. The minister's only recourse is to make a grovelling petition to the assembly from behind the 8-ball with the dice heavily loaded against him. He ought to be able to appeal to the General Assembly of Australia against the decision of the Commission, but the 1997 GAA categorised all such appeals as "governmental" for the NSW Assembly and therefore outside its jurisdiction. This places the individuals comprising the Pastoral Relations Commission and Trustees in a legal minefield.
        Dissolution of a pastoral tie ought to mean that a minister is declared free to seek another call without obligation. What it really means is that the minister and his family is thrown out into the gutter forthwith, deprived of income, and effectively bearing all the blame for whatever cause the Pastoral Relations Commission may put forward as the excuse that the tie between the minister and the parish had to be broken up.
        Like any divorce, dissolution of a pastoral tie ought to be by mutual consent. There should be intervention by the Ministry and Mission Committee to ensure that the dispossessed pastor and his family are not left homeless and penniless within the bounds of the parish. The minister ought to be officially offered honourable alternatives. It is not an honourable alternative for the Ministry and Mission Superintendent to refuse or neglect to offer any employment when there is a position available. Nor is it legally safe, as that would amount to a libellous deprivation of a living.

THE HOSTILE VISITATION
        It has become increasingly commonplace, these days, for members of a presbytery who bear a grudge against a minister, to arrange for a hostile visitation to their ministerial brother's parish. The pattern usually goes something like this:
        A general visitation is called, out of turn, on the parish.
        The visitation committee is stacked with those who hate their ministerial brother often for trivial matters or being on the wrong side of church politics. (If you believe you have the truth, then it's true that everyone who disagrees with you is an enemy of truth).
        The visitation is arranged to go to the parish at a time and place designed to restrict the number of the management and session able to attend.
        The visitation does not conduct its "divine service" at the normal Sunday diet, but commands divine service sometime after interviewing the management, late at night.
        The minister is excluded from the "church service" and interviews with the Session and the Management and his wife is asked to leave the congregation meeting.
        Leading questions are put to the Management and Session with a view to eliciting criticism of the minister.
        Divine Service turns out to be an informal get-together with anyone who wants to turn up so that they can bitch on about the minister, even people who never come near church.
        The visitation report is presented to the Presbytery before any of its "victims" ever get to see it and have a chance to refute its findings.
        The findings are one-sided and clearly intended to unjustly defame the minister.