Praying the Creed
One of the routine parts of Sunday worship for many of us saying the Apostles’ Creed. But perhaps because it’s routine for many it’s also become rote, something we say without much thought and which, for that reason, routinely fails to touch us.
The other challenge of the Creed is that when we say it in this way, we tend to slide toward thinking of it as a laundry list of things you have to believe (“believe” here in the sense of cognitive assent) rather than allow it to draw us into a community of people gathered around a confession of faith about what God was and is doing through Jesus for us and the world.
Which is why, I think, I found this simple video thought-provoking. It invites another way to approach the Creed, not as something simply to recite – either mindlessly or out of a sense of obligation – but rather as something to pray – mindfully and joyfully.
From time to time when we’re saying the Creed at church I wonder whom in the congregation it is speaking meaningfully to and whom it is missing altogether. And I wonder if this approach would help increase the former.
So I’d be interested in what you think: Does the Creed still speak? Does it, that is, make sense to you as you say it? And does praying it offer another way into the Creed and perhaps change how you experience it?
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Thanks to The Episcopal Cafe for pointing me to this video!
I like the video. It reminds me of a pastor I knew who never understood why the congregation he served would (for the most part) bow their heads and close their eyes when reciting the Creed. “Don’t they understand it’s a proclamation?” he’d sigh. But, as the video says, it is also a prayer, and should be treated. It makes me think that lectio divina might be another profitable way to approach the Creed.
Of course, on the other hand, recitation of the Creed as congregations usually do has the advantage of reminding us that it is *not* all about whether I, me, personally can make every last phrase and clause of the Creed “real” in my heart. “We believe,” says the Nicene Creed; and even the “I” of the Apostles’ becomes a default we when recited in worship. Precisely because this *is* something our forebears in faith have passed on to us, and because it is shared by Christians worldwide, it is bigger than how we feel about it any given Sunday. Sometimes you can “let the Church believe for you.”
There’s a story about an Eastern Orthodox priest (I think) who was asked, “What if you can’t authentically say ‘I believe’ when reciting the Creed?” The priest said something to the effect of, “With practice, you’ll get there” – i.e., recite/proclaim the Creed even when you can’t “make it real.”
Thanks. We stopped using the “robot creed” awhile back. Think I will use this video and the creed during the sermon. Thanks for all your help to us working preachers.
The first time the Apostle’s Creed began to change from a statement of belief to an actual prayer was about a year after my husband died at the young age of 33. I had only recently returned to church after about 10 years in the agnostic camp. I was definitely a seeker and wasn’t really sure what I believed. Then one day I happened to ask my pastor what the communion of saints meant. He explained that it was the community of believers in every time and every place that is joined together in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. He went on to explain that we believe that this whole community is present together at the communion table through the body and blood of Christ.
At the time this was powerful good news because it gave me a way to connect with my late husband in a way that was life giving and hopeful. I began to see the creed not just as wrote words that we recite week after week but as an actual prayer – a life line – something that was meaningful in worship – something that gave me hope and fed my fledgling faith.
Once one part of the creed has a meaningful connection to a person’s life of faith, you do begin to see the rest of the creed in an entirely different light. If one part can have personal meaning, the others might to…..and the journey of faith continues. It continued for me all the way to a second career in the pulpit. Strange and amazing things things can happen when we take the creed personally and speak it as prayer. Just my two cents.
What a lovely story and testament to the power of the creed and how it gave your faith a hook, and started it to grow!
Thank you so much for sharing your story, Kim. What a testament to all of us who have loved and lost someone. Except, as you remind us, it’s not losing, for we are joined in the larger communion of saints. Thank you, again, for a powerful – and valuable – two cents!
One Easter when I waiting to be ushered up to the rail for communion, I had a mental picture of Jesus handing out bread, feeding the 5000, and the people stretched out and covered the hills in the distance and I realized that the communion of believers stretches back into the past and into the future. I often remember that mental picture when I’m proclaiming the creed.
We have been confessing the creed this Pentecost season using the words, “I trust,” instead of, “I believe.” A note in the bulletin reminds people that the bible often uses ‘believe’ much as we understand the word ‘trust’; not simply intellectual assent, but that deep trust from which we live. Sometimes even small changes can help bring new life to ancient and meaningful words.
I love that idea, Katy. We get so caught up in the cognitive side of belief that it’s easy to miss the more relational element of trust.
I’m glad the creed works for so many. Usually it is only the last verse “…the Holy Spirit….communion of saints…forgiveness of sins” etc. that I find it becomes a prayer for me, a proclamation of good news. The first two articles always feel like gate keepers to me (“if you don’t believe this you don’t belong”). Historically that’s how they functioned as well. I am glad if the creeds work for others who have commented here – Kim’s story is especially wonderful! – but I also hope you can understand why they aren’t helpful for others of us, and why we’ve stopped saying them, or say them only occasionally (baptisms, confirmations, Pentecost, All Saints work within my community of faith).
I find myself thinking of Simone Weil, refusing baptism so that she would never stop standing with the outsider. If the Creeds had actually been written as prayers, then maybe they wouldn’t feel so much like shutting doors in people’s faces. I don’t want to disparage what so many of others writing here clearly love! But I find the Creeds hurtful.
Speck,
It’s important, I think, to remember that belief is, among other things, a decision. Generally, at some point, we decide what to believe and what not to believe. Belief is not something that just happens to us. This is true whether we are considering such things as the various items in the Creed or even what the intent, purpose, meaning or overall effect of the creed is. That is to say, one decides not only whether to believe the articles in the creed but, also, whether the Creed was, is or is meant to be exclusionary. I suppose it might have been meant to exclude some people, but I don’t see it that way at all. Rather, I think it’s purpose is actually the opposite. By enumerating the beliefs of Christians it presents an invitation to everyone to see what we believe and to join us if they find our beliefs compelling or even attractive. In the end, we usually see what we expect to see and our expectations are formed by what we focus upon. Focus on exclusion and division and you will surely see it….whether it is actually or significantly there or not. It really is a decision about what to see and believe that each of us must make, consciously or not.