Our Prayer Shapes Our Belief: A Sermon for Trinity Sunday

For those of you who have attended various adult formation classes since I have been here at Christ the King, you might remember the Latin phrase that I seem to frequently mention: Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi - which means the law of prayer shapes the law of belief. Or put another way, the way we pray shapes the way we believe. 

This truism is very Anglican, so much so that if I were doing one of my elevator sermons in response to the question, “What does it mean to be Episcopalian?” I might respond by simply saying “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi…the way we pray shapes the way we believe.”

And I believe that Trinity Sunday is the perfect time to talk about how our praying shapes our believing. But whether it is Trinity Sunday or not, week in and week out, the opening segment of worship prior to the scripture readings and sermon contains language that is very consciously Trinitarian. Cumbersome and overly formulaic? Some might say so. But this is intentional.

Those who have compiled the various editions of the Book of Common Prayer, beginning with the first one back in 1549, held to the firm belief that our praying shapes our believing. And keep in mind that the Book of Common Prayer was and still is intended to be used daily, not just once a week. So, for those of us who use the Prayer Book to guide our daily prayer life are getting a daily dose, not a weekly dose, of Christian doctrine. By using the Book of Common Prayer, we are, in the purest sense of the word, actually being indoctrinated through our liturgy day in and day out, or week in and week out. In other words, when we pray, we are learning the doctrine of the Church. If we speak, pray, worship, and sing a certain way and by using certain language, it will begin to shape how we believe, and hopefully, in turn, how we act. 

So, the question that arises in the midst of all of this “information” I’m sharing with you is “So what?” The cynic in us might even say, “Who cares?  I just come to church to hear an encouraging or inspiring word, take communion, and be around my family and friends. I could care less about doctrine, or how Trinitarian our language is.”

But I think that using Trinitarian language for God in our liturgy isn’t only about reminding us that the God we worship is one God in three persons, unified while also being diverse. I think that using what some people may find to be overly formal or formulaic language in worship is actually a means for teaching us the value of viewing God – in all of God’s diversity – with a deep sense of awe and reverence.  And using Trinitarian language to speak to and about God is just one of the many ways that our worship reminds us that God is a sacred, awesome mystery to Whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from Whom no secrets are hid. That being the case, if our worship conditions us to hold God in the deepest regard, shouldn’t we do the same for one another?

When I was in seminary in Atlanta, I attended a service at St. Philip’s Cathedral that had a profound impact on my understanding of worship.  The service was held on All Saints’ Day, and it was a requiem mass for the homeless people who had died in Atlanta in the previous year. This service had become a tradition for the Cathedral and for the homeless community in Atlanta for some time. 

As the service began, I was unpleasantly surprised at what came next.  When the smell of incense filled the air, the organist began the opening bars of the processional hymn, and the army of vergers, acolytes, thurifers, lectors, choir members, and clergy processed down the aisle, it would have seemed that the Queen of England was in town for a visit. And quite frankly I thought that all this pomp and circumstance was inappropriate for a service honoring the homeless. Why did the Cathedral have to go so over the top with their high church, Anglican worship on this occasion? The homeless men and women who had packed the pews of the Cathedral that evening most likely weren’t Episcopalians, and even if they were, they weren’t this kind of Episcopalian. Why couldn’t the Cathedral staff have been a little more sensitive to who their congregation would be that evening, and choose the music and liturgy to fit that occasion a little better? What’s with all the incense, chanting, kneeling, standing, and choral anthems? Would homeless people relate to all of this, or would they simply feel like outsiders?

Well, as it turns out, this requiem mass is the event of the year for the homeless community in Atlanta. The ones who come every year to pay tribute to their fallen brothers and sisters of the street love this service.  And the reason they love it is because the Cathedral is doing everything in their power to make it a big deal. They are cutting no corners, holding nothing back, and giving the homeless community their absolute very best.  It was as if the Queen of England was in town. But she wasn’t. All of this hoopla was first and foremost for God, but it was also for the homeless men, women, and children of Atlanta, and it communicated to them that they mattered. 

And it also communicated to me, and to the others who were also there that the homeless among us mattered. How dare I think that they wouldn’t appreciate all the finest that the Cathedral had to offer. I underestimated them, perhaps because deep down it was difficult for me to see them as being created in God’s own image. But God is a diverse God, and God’s creation is a diverse creation. Those members of the Cathedral who participated in this service every year got the message. The liturgy didn’t need to be dumbed down for the homeless. The homeless folks were created in God’s very own image, and they deserved the same respect that God does. I learned a lesson that evening, and it was the worship that taught it to me. Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi: our prayer shapes our belief.

So, to riff on this axiom at bit, perhaps we could say our actions shape our believing as well. In other words, if we make a habit out of acting, treating, or speaking to people a certain way, perhaps we just might come to believe that they are worth the respect we are showing them. And the same goes for how we worship. Oftentimes, our prayers precede our belief, and they shape our belief. If we believe this to be true, then how we pray is critically important. Not that it matters to God. I really don’t think God cares how we dress, sing, or pray on Sunday mornings, or any day for that matter. But I think it matters to us. The language we use is for us, not for God. If our hymns, songs, and prayers are trite, shallow, and dumbed down, God won’t become that way, but we run the risk of our image of God becoming that way. 

As we continue with worship after the sermon today, the formal, formulaic nature of our liturgy will continue. Keep an eye and ear out for how we speak about God, and what we do with our bodies when we are speaking to and about God. 

When I was growing up, my parents used to always make me stand up when an adult entered the room, no matter who they were. It used to drive me crazy, but mom and dad believed that if I showed them respect with the posture of my body, my mind might actually follow. Our actions can shape our belief.  So, when we say the Nicene Creed and pray the prayers that follow, those of us who are able will stand up, even if we would rather remain seated.  But just as our prayer shapes our belief, so do our actions, and so does our posture. For those of us who are able to stand, if we were to remain seated when we recited the Creed or prayed the Prayers of the People or the Great Thanksgiving, what truth would that communicate? Would our relaxed posture eventually shape what we believe about the God to whom we are praying? 

The good news in all of this is that as much as we may come to believe in and adore God through the disciplined practice of daily and weekly prayer and worship, that God already loves us more than we can imagine. God will always love us no matter how we worship Him. Remember, our liturgy shapes us, not God. 

And today, as we stand and kneel before God, and speak and sing to God with holy reverence, let us do so with the knowledge that God revered us so much that he sent His only begotten Son to live with and die for each and every one of us. And by the power of the Holy Spirit, may we see, speak to, and treat God and one another with a deep, holy awe, reverence, and respect. Amen.