Lately the Spirit has me pondering the “null curriculum” of Christian worship. In pedagogy the “null curriculum” is that which is not taught. It can also be called the excluded curriculum.
Liturgy is truly its own best catechesis. Most of us recognize that we learn by doing, so it is no surprise that by repeatedly doing and praying certain things in the liturgy, we learn those things. As a simple example, many if not most of us memorized the creed or the Lord’s Prayer through weekly repetition of it in the liturgy. Lots of us also learned to read music and sing there.
So, if the liturgy teaches certain ways of expressing the Christian faith through what it liturgizes, it must also be true in another sense that absenting something from the liturgy is another kind of catechesis. Returning to pedagogical terms, by absenting something from worship we make it part of a hidden curriculum.
[As an important side note, this is why I believe in extending communion to everyone including children. If we invite children into worship but then exclude them from communion until the “age of understanding,” we quietly teach them “this isn’t for you” as they come up and cross their hands. A better catechesis is to imitate what Jesus says himself when he distributes the elements, “Do this, all of you. This is for you.”]
An example of the null curriculum: our hymnals are full of songs of praise, but only recently have newer hymnals featured more space for lament. For better or worse (and I would argue in this instance worse) this has taught generations of worshippers that lament is only marginally welcome in Christian worship.
“When you are grieving, stay home. Come back when you are ready to praise.”
Stated starkly like that, we’d likely all disagree with such a curriculum. We want those who are grieving to come and experience the solace of community and the comfort of corporate worship. However all along much of our null curriculum has quietly implied that tears are for elsewhere. Just look at how seldom the book of Lamentations is read in worship and how few songs of lament are in our songbook.
Here’s another example: this summer we’ve made use of a book And Social Justice For All as a resource and plan for our children’s messages. Because the book covers topics less mentioned in preaching and worship—disabilities, mental illness, human trafficking, poverty—inevitably it has meant introducing topics that have been more part of the null curriculum than the overt curriculum of Christian worship.
So a fundamental question we might ask ourselves: do we or do we not want all worshippers including children to know that worship itself is a space where they can address difficult and forbidding topics? And if we do bring such topics to the whole community, how do we handle the topic in a way that is supportive and developmentally appropriate?
As a parent, on the one hand I can definitely say I want some level of control over what my children are exposed to and when. On the other hand, I also rely on others to teach my children things I either forget or less frequently center or lack expertise in.
In this sense we might say that we are looking at two sides of the same coin. In worship, we are entrusted with some sacred tasks, to bring into corporate worships all aspects of human life so there can be healing as the sacred connects with the mundane, while also recognizing that a community gathering for worship has a wide variety of needs, as many needs as there are individuals present. What might be helpful for one could be triggering for another, and although a topic may be worth covering in worship, it is likely also true that those attending desire a heads up that the topic will be mentioned.
A parishioner recently taught me more about this, pointing out that much the way NPR or other public voices handle difficult topics, or people in social media offer trigger warnings before certain kinds of content, it would be good for us to offer “content alerts.” It’s good to have everyone be informed of what they might experience in worship. With the advent of e-mail and social media, this totally doable. We can totally let the community know in advance what will be discussed in preaching or included in worship.
This has taught me to make a dual commitment as a worship leader. I am committed to bring more of the whole of life into corporate worship. I think some of the null curriculum has had a hidden curriculum that isn’t helpful. I’m also committed to informing everyone prior to worship what the worship experience will be liked so they can make an informed choice about how and whether they’ll attend.
I would absolutely love to hear stories from readers on both sides of this coin and the edge of the coin. Tell us what you believe is missing from corporate worship that really needs to be there. Tell us also times when something was brought into worship that didn’t sit well. We can all learn from examining this coin. It’s an important one, because what worship does is to offer sacred space and time to what is otherwise framed as “ordinary.” We all know what it’s like when a part of our life has been truly “seen” and valued in a worship context. It changes everything.
I leave you with this meme. A colleague in ministry, Elle Dowd, posted it recently on her social media public page. It probably needs a content warning for foul language, so only scroll down if you want to see it. It points to another aspect of the null curriculum. Are we allowed space to be fiercely angry with God? Are there prayers for that? 1
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Short answer: yes, all over the psalms, although interestingly once again a lot of lectionaries remove those angry prayers from corporate worship.