One of the most curious things about Anglican worship (and, truth be told, about most liturgical traditions) is the sheer number of times we say the same things over and over again. If you have ever sat through a service thinking, “Didn’t we just pray that a minute ago?” — the answer is almost certainly yes. And if you’re very Anglican, the answer is, “Yes, and we’ll be doing it again next week.”
I remember once a parishioner confided to me that she sometimes drifted off during the Prayers of the People. When I asked her why, she said, “Because Father, I already know what’s coming!” I had to resist the temptation to point out that, in fact, she had just described the whole genius of the liturgy. It is like a favourite hymn or a well-worn path: we know where it leads, and yet, it still carries us somewhere holy.
Repetition in worship is not accidental; it is spiritual medicine. We repeat prayers because the human heart is remarkably stubborn. God says, “I love you,” and we answer, “Yes, but…” God says, “Be still,” and we reply, “After I finish this.” God says, “Forgive,” and we retort, “Surely you don’t mean them.” It takes time — lots of time — for those words of grace to sink in. The Church, in her infinite pastoral patience, makes sure we hear them not once, not twice, but over and over, until at last the penny drops.
There is also a comfort in the repetition. Life is full of unpredictability — appliances break, politicians bicker, the Wi-Fi goes down at the precise moment you hit “send.” But in the liturgy, you know that after “The Lord be with you,” there comes the sturdy reply, “And also with you.” That familiar rhythm is like sitting in a chair that has been moulded to your shape.
I suppose it is rather like being in a long marriage. One might think that saying “I love you” every day could become tiresome. But it does not. It deepens, it steadies, it reminds. The repetition does not diminish the words; it sanctifies them.
So, the next time you find yourself praying the Lord’s Prayer yet again, or saying the Creed for the thousandth time, take heart. Those words are chiselling away at the stone of your heart, shaping it slowly but surely into the likeness of Christ. And perhaps, with Stephen Leacock’s dry grin, we might admit that the repetition of liturgy is a bit like listening to Uncle George tell the same story every Christmas dinner: you know exactly where it’s going, but it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.
Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
You speak to us in words ancient and ever new.
Through the steady rhythm of prayer and praise,
you shape our hearts and guide our steps.
When life feels chaotic, anchor us in the familiar words of faith.
When our spirits grow weary, refresh us with the comfort of holy repetition.
Teach us to hear your voice not as an echo,
but as the living Word that renews us each day.
Through Christ our Lord,
Amen.