Whoever reflects on the origin of Reformed liturgy will soon discover that it has its historical background in the mass of the Roman Church. That is where our spiritual fathers came from, that is what they separated from, and there they would find useful elements to take with them.

Now we all know that the main objection to the mass lies in the idea of ​​sacrifice: in the liturgy, the sacrifice of Christ, once offered on Calvary, is somehow performed again. To our fathers, this “again” in the daily mass celebration was in irreconcilable conflict with the “once” of Hebrews 9:26, 28 and Hebrews 10:10. The liturgy is not the re-enactment of the sacrifice of atonement, but the ministry of the reconciliation, which was once and for all accomplished by Christ on the cross of Calvary (see Heidelberg Catechism, q/a 80). Everything that resembled the idea of sacrifice was radically removed from the liturgy by Luther (and a large number of other church leaders after him).¹

The Sacrifice Has Remained⤒🔗

Yet it would be a profound misunderstanding to consider the whole issue of “sacrifice” in the liturgy to be concluded at this point. Against the background of this radical opposition to the Roman sacrificial idea, it is noteworthy that the Reformers did not simply abandon the concept of sacrifice. Apparently, they found it impossible to reject a concept which Scripture itself spoke so clearly of. How could these people ever let go of the word “sacrifice,” if they themselves had previously come to the wonderful discovery that all believers are priests before God (1 Peter 2:5-9; Revelation 1:6; 5:10; see Romans 12:1-2)?

Priests without sacrifices are hardly recognizable figures. Church services without the priestly sacrifices of the entire church cannot be imagined. And so, the churches of the Reformation seized upon the word “sacrifice” in order to describe their restored liturgy. He who, out of respect for Christ’s work, rejects the atoning sacrifice, has nevertheless not abandoned the sacrifices of praise, thanksgiving, prayer and confession (see Hebrews 13:15), for “with such sacrifices God is pleased” (Hebrews 13:16).

In our understanding, the churches of the Reformation have given liturgical expression to this sacrificial service at four distinct moments in the church’s assembly: the communal confession of guilt, the public prayer, the singing and the collection of money. The scope of this article does not allow us to give a detailed consideration of each of these elements. We limit ourselves to the confession of guilt and the collection of money (also called “the offertory”), and we leave untouched the ministry of prayers and the singing. We have chosen to focus on the two sacrifices of confession and the collection of money because, in our opinion, the liturgical view of both these acts has become impoverished. This is detrimental for our fellowship with God and it dishonours Christ, who has loved us and wants to be served by us.

The Sacrifice of the Confession of Guilt←⤒🔗

It was a fixed custom in the sixteenth century that, at the beginning of the Sunday morning service, the church, led by the minister, would make a public confession of guilt before God. Let us listen to what Calvin has to say in this regard. In his Institutes he refers to Leviticus 16:21 and then states:

For this reason, the Lord ordained of old among the people of Israel that, after the priest recited the words, the people should confess their iniquities publicly in the temple…. For he foresaw that this help was necessary for them in order that each one might better be led to a just estimation of himself. And it is fitting that, by the confession of our own wretchedness, we show forth the goodness and mercy of our God, among ourselves and before the whole world.

Calvin then concretizes this conviction with a view to the gathering of the church:

It is proper that this mode of confession should both be ordinary in the Church, and also be specially employed on extraordinary occasions, when the people in common happen to have fallen into any fault….

Seeing that in every sacred assembly we stand in the view of God and angels, in what way should our service begin but in acknowledging our own unworthiness? But this you will say is done in every prayer; for as often as we pray for pardon, we confess our sins. I admit it. But if you consider how great is our carelessness, or drowsiness, or sloth, you will grant me that it would be a salutary ordinance if the Christian people were exercised in humiliation by some formal method of confession. For though the ceremony that the Lord enjoined on the Israelites belonged to the tutelage of the Law, yet the thing itself belongs in some respect to us also. And, indeed, in all well-ordered churches, in observance of a useful custom, the minister, each Sunday, frames a formula of confession in his own name and that of the people, in which he makes a common confession of iniquity, and supplicates pardon from the Lord. In short, by this key a door of prayer is opened privately for each, and publicly for all. Institutes III.4 sections 10 and 11

This insight led Calvin to act accordingly in practice, in Strasbourg and in Geneva. Every gathering of the church was a gathering of people who humbled themselves before God. In this way, Calvin wanted to preserve the valuable elements of the abolished Sacrament of Penance. It was the sacrifice of the broken spirit and the contrite heart, of which Scripture tells us in Psalm 51:17. He who opens his lips to that end proclaims the praise of the Lord. He puts aside all his pretensions and learns to understand what “grace” means in his life.

Calvin was also following in the footsteps of Luther in this matter. Luther deeply reflected on and experienced for himself what the continuing “mortification” of the old man meant for a Christian. He was always dedicated in his study of and preaching from the penitential psalms. He understood that the confession of guilt and the praise of the great God are two sides of the same coin. Was it not one of the powerful moments of the Roman mass, to have the Kyrie eleison (Lord, have mercy) and the Gloria inextricably linked together in song? Indeed, for Luther, the priesthood of the believer consisted primarily in bringing these two sacrifices. That was what the “office of believer” was about in the first place! When the church meets on a Sunday in the presence of God and his holy angels, they are not a group of good people who live nice enough lives and know enough doctrine. On the contrary, they are a church full of unworthy people who may experience with great amazement that God wants to have fellowship with them.

We could say it this way: this liturgical confession of guilt is an expression of “the heartfelt sorrow that we have offended God by our sin” (Heidelberg Catechism, Lord’s Day 33, q/a 89).

Unfortunately, Reformed churches in the Netherlands had allowed this aspect of the liturgy to become impoverished as early as the sixteenth century. A basic remnant of it is (sometimes) found in the psalm verse that is sung after the reading of the law. We think that, in this regard, a completely unnecessary impoverishment of our liturgy has taken place. The confession of guilt is certainly not absent in our worship: every Sunday anew, the public prayer makes mention of it. In addition, our church book includes prayers that contain well-worded confessions of sin. But the confession of guilt has not returned as a separate liturgical act, despite the penetrating thoughts voiced by A. Kuyper in his time.²

Calvin’s words should still serve as a warning to us: our carelessness, drowsiness or sloth easily obstructs our way. This is why it is necessary to have the church more actively involved in the confession of guilt. Attempts in this direction have not been lacking in our century. The deputies of the Synod of Leeuwarden (1920) made an attempt in 1923 to give a place to Kuyper’s valuable insights in the liturgy.³ Deputies reporting at the Synod of Kampen (1975) have done the same.⁴ This caused more attention to be given to the prayer of humiliation, but it did not result in a separate liturgical act, as Calvin had envisioned when he wrote his Institutes and designed the Genevan liturgy. Nevertheless, the word of the deputies from 1975 has gained support: “In our time, with people’s sense of guilt wearing out, they see nothing but gain if the separate confession of guilt could be restored.”

The Collection of Money←⤒🔗

We will now like to pay attention to the sacrifice known as the “offertory.” We all know that this liturgical act is a potentially dangerous moment. How easily does it not turn into a money-making business — “begging with a bag” to “cover the expenses”!

Yet we also know that the offering of our money is something that pleases our God. From the earliest times it was his will that his people would not appear before him empty-handed (Exodus 23:15; 34:20; Deuteronomy 16:16,17).

When it comes to the destination of our gifts, the ministry of mercy should be thought of first. It is true that the word “mercy” may soon appear on the blacklist of “discriminatory speech” (who still lives from mercy, now that we are always loudly demanding our “rights”?), but that fact will not prevent us from continuing to talk about grace and mercy in the church. We depend on it for our lives and we may extend it to others.

We know of the special attention that the Lord himself gave to the “stranger,” the “poor,” the “widow” and the “orphan” — people with a vulnerable existence, devoid of the protection that their own nation, their wealth, their husband or father could afford them. For many centuries of the Christian church, it was especially in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper that this diaconal focus of our sacrifice became clear. It is the rich symbolism that is constantly presented to us in the sacrificial bowl at the supper table. What we give to the Lord, the Lord gives to his needy ones. We give to God what comes only from his hand (1 Chronicle 29:14), and they receive it from this very same hand.⁵

This moment in the worship service has even been recorded in our confessions. According to Lord’s Day 38 of the Heidelberg Catechism, the fourth commandment also implies that we diligently attend the church of God on Sundays to hear the Word of God, to use the sacraments, to call publicly on the Lord, and to give Christian offerings for the poor.

We find a similar remark in the other confession of that time: the Second Helvetic Confession of 1566. Section 22 of this confession states that, besides the proclamation of the Word of God, the saying of public prayers and the celebration of the sacraments, the purpose of the church gathering is to collect contributions for the poor, for all the necessary expenses of the church, and for sustaining the church’s regular activities.⁶ This phrase in particular may draw our attention: in addition to the care of the poor, the church activities are mentioned as a reason for collections.

Objections have sometimes been raised to the latter. At the beginning of this century, Rev. J.C. Sikkel stated that the church should not collect in its own house for its household budget.⁷ Collecting is done for “the underprivileged and unemployed, for the poor and the pagans,” but not for yourself. For this reason, Sikkel wanted all church expenses to be covered by “contributions” paid in fixed terms and by contributions from the government. His motivation for the latter was that the church is not an inwardly turned conventicle, but is of public significance.

We agree with Sikkel that, when entering into long-term obligations (wages, mortgages, and so on), the church should be able to rely on a fixed income.

We disagree with Sikkel on this point: that he excludes the “poor” and the “pagans” from the household of the church. Clearly, the diaconate and mission are duties of the church. Why would love offerings be brought to support the poor in God’s house, but not to maintain the ministry of the Word? Also, in the laws of the Old Testament, the Levite and the needy are more than once placed in the same category (see, e.g., Deuteronomy 14:29). They live directly out of the hand of God, who has destined the gifts on the altar for them (Numbers 18). The gift of money brought by the church members may remain a rich element of our worship service: it is a concrete expression of the sacrifice of gratitude and it gives shape to our priesthood in God’s presence. Therefore, this giving should not degenerate into a symbolic gift or a thoughtless act. It should remain a conscious liturgical act, in which spontaneous gratitude and proper planning are combined. The church council and the deacons can help the church in this by providing practical information about the destination of the funds. Then the collection will be a meaningful liturgical act, enriching the worship of our God.

In the light of this liturgical character of the collection, we should continue to oppose the idea of ​​ “collection coupons” (or “church coins”). Such a collection coupon is no more than a receipt. He who collects coupons is not collecting gifts, but proofs of payment. He is simply implementing an administrative arrangement with a view to the annual tax returns. Aside from the pedagogical objections to this system, we should always consider the damage that such a collection does to the liturgy. This is not about introducing a modern form of payment, but about a tax-motivated conversion of everyday currency into a “sacred” coin. This coin does not have any purchasing power in society, as it cannot be used outside the walls of the church building. It only has internal validity as a proof of payment. The collection is now done for the sake of the administrative committee, not for the sake of the Lord. After all, in the liturgy we can hardly offer a bag of receipts to God. Moreover, introducing sacred rituals in the liturgy which isolate the church from society is contrary to a fundamental principle of biblical liturgy. It is precisely in the liturgy that we have to use the current currency, sanctifying it for the use that God wants to make of it. Therefore, we should not allow our liturgical conduct in this matter to be governed by tax regulations. If we still decide on doing it — be it with the best of intentions — then we can rather work exclusively with bank transfers and abolish the Sunday collection altogether. This procedure would be more honest than the make-believe collection that consists in collecting coupons.

In the meantime, the phenomena of collection coupons and church coins prove how much this part of the “sacrifice” in the worship service is threatened by ideas that are meant well, but that in themselves have nothing to do with the liturgy of the church. They are only understandable from the perspective of the “liturgy” of the government (Romans 13:6).

This gives all the more reason for us to continue to confront each other with the deep significance of our meeting with God, and to grow together in our understanding of the truth that we — Gentiles by nature — have been made worthy to bring spiritual sacrifices that are pleasing to God through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:5).