One of the most beautiful moments in worship is the act of breaking bread together at the Table. For me, as a woman of Color in a world shaped by white-centric norms, the Communion liturgy of the United Methodist Church holds deep significance. The open table, where all are welcome, feels like one of the purest expressions of the kingdom of God. It echoes Christ’s radical hospitality and reflects the vision given in Revelation: a multitude from every nation, tribe, and tongue gathered in worship.

More than just repetitive acts, rituals such as Communion are formational, communal, educational, grounding, re-connecting, and deeply theological. They shape us, remind us who we are, and place us within the larger story of God’s redemptive work. Yet, in many churches, some might see rituals as fixed, or rigid, but they are anything but static. They may also be seen as disconnected from the present moment. But what if the details of our worship matter more than we realize? What if our rituals are not just what we do in worship but how worship does its work in us?

The rituals of the church ground us in something deeper than our fleeting emotions or preferences. They tether us to a long lineage of believers who have prayed the words, sung the hymns, broken the bread before us, imposed ashes, and intoned the words over the waters of baptism. We can see then, that they are not some unnecessary detail, or a formality that can be trimmed or skipped for the sake of efficiency in getting us to brunch before the other churches come in. 

A 90-Second Invitation

I remember a Communion Sunday when a visiting family walked into the sanctuary. Even though we were at the end of the sacrament and preparing to sing the closing hymn, I felt an urge to go to them at the back of the sanctuary and invite them to share. It was at the moment that I greeted them, and extended the invitation to the Table that I realized the family did not have any orientation around the sacrament.  I had only about 90 seconds to explain what the table meant in our Wesleyan UMC tradition. The family timidly moved to the front where we served them. In that brief exchange, the heart of the sacrament was alive: hospitality, nourishment, and a glimpse of God’s abundant grace. Moments like this remind me that rituals such as the Sacrament of Holy Communion help us encounter the holy. 

Rev. John Wesley understood the formative power of ritual in shaping discipleship. The liturgy of the church, from the reading of Scripture to the rhythms of the sacraments, does something to us, for it is a tool that educates, forms, and prepares us for the work of love and justice in the world.

Creativity in Ritual: Honoring the Old While Welcoming the New

I am, at heart, a liturgy nerd. I love the richness of the words we inherit from the church’s tradition. But I also love retooling existing liturgies to reflect the unique season or space in which we find ourselves. I have written liturgies that include movement, gestures, and new hymns set to familiar tunes—all ways to help congregations embody worship, not just recite it.

When my congregation prepared for a major space transition, I wrote a liturgy that helped us name what we were leaving behind and bless what was to come. In moments like this, ritual becomes more than a script; it becomes a shared language for grief, hope, and expectation.

Even the way we invite the congregation to participate makes a difference. For instance, I get slightly annoyed when leaders tell the congregation to ‘repeat’ the Lord’s Prayer or the one of the Creeds. A slight language shift can make a big difference. We ‘pray’ the prayer, and we ‘affirm our faith by proclaiming the words of the Creed’. In so doing, we are educating as well as embodying the liturgy.  

Rituals as Acts of Justice and Lament

Rituals have always had the power to raise the voice of the oppressed. Historically, lament has taken many ritual forms, from sackcloth and ashes to public prayer vigils. When we engage in communal lament, we do more than express sorrow—we disrupt the status quo and introduce the discomfort of naming and acknowledging the pain.

In my ministry, I have used rituals to amplify voices that have been silenced and to invite the church into deeper solidarity. The details of these rituals matter. Who is invited to speak? What names are lifted in prayer? What hymns are sung? These are not mere embellishments; they are theological decisions that shape how we understand God and one another.

Why the Details Matter

When people question why we say certain words, sing certain hymns, or follow certain patterns in worship, the answer is not simply, “Because that’s how we’ve always done it.” The answer is that the details of our worship help to shape the details of our faith. (This is why it is important to update some of the language in our hymns and liturgies.) 

For instance, the way we practice Communion influences how we understand inclusion. The way we pray shapes how we see God. The way we engage in rituals teaches us how to carry faith beyond Sunday morning and into our daily lives. 

Years ago, and before I was appointed to serve a congregation, I attended worship in another UMC congregation on a Communion Sunday. I seethed as I listened to the pastor tell the congregants that if they had sin in their lives, they should not come to the table. I watched as people walked timidly to receive the elements while others sat with bowed (shamed) heads. I scooted closer to a woman on my pew who looked especially scared, held her hand and invited her to come with me. She expressed fear of God and the pastor. I assured her that UMC has an open table, and that Christ invites all of us; that the Holy Spirit was with her helping her to wrestle with her fears. Still clutching my hand, she made her way haltingly to receive the elements. Though he served her, the pastor appeared to be shaken by her presence. Each time I have seen the woman since this encounter, she always talked about feeling God holding her hand that Sunday. The practice of an open table shaped her understanding of God’s love in a way the sermon did not. This radical hospitality of the table helped her to see herself as fully embraced by God. It changed her life and how she was with other people. 

Many of our church communities are accustomed to exclusively masculine language for God. Lauren Winer’s “Wearing God” is an excellent resource for understanding God as more than only any one thing. Personally, I pray to God who answers to many names. I know members of my congregation who struggle with that, some to the point of being angry with me, unsure if it was "allowed" to address God in ways beyond what they had inherited.

I also know of members for whom the shift makes sense. One member in particular became fascinated when she heard me refer to God as Mother and Sistah. She spoke of mentioning this to a friend who had ceased to attend church services because of how strict, stifling, and exclusive the church’s theology and language had become. She felt the shift allowed for her to relate to God. Someone else told me, “I’ve spent my life thinking God was always just watching over me, but when you prayed to God who is Mother, I imagined God holding me."  

The way we pray does shape how we see God. Expanding the language of worship allowed this woman to experience a more intimate, nurturing image of the Divine. Rituals like corporate prayer are not just about words spoken in a service—they form how we relate to God in our daily lives.

If we rush, abbreviate, or eliminate rituals for the sake of convenience, we risk losing the richness they bring. Instead, we should lean into them, explore their depths, and, when needed, reimagine them in ways that allow them to speak anew to our communities.

The beauty of ritual is not in its repetition but in its ability to keep telling the story of God in fresh ways. Whether it’s Communion, lament, a blessing, or a hymn sung across generations, these practices hold us together and draw us deeper into the mystery of faith.

So, the next time you stand at the table, kneel at the altar, reaffirm your faith in one of the historic creeds, or lift your voice in a familiar prayer, pay attention. The details matter. Because in them, we just might catch a glimpse of the kingdom of God.

 

For more reflections on ministry, generative leadership, and scripture, follow Andrea at www.bafflingbible.blogspot.com.