Liturgie as Spel | Liturgy as Play

English Version

Liturgie as Spel

Die spel van die liturgie het bepaalde kenmerke. Dit is nie bandeloos nie. Dit speel af op ‘n speelveld, en verloop volgens spelreëls – soos alle goeie vorme van spel. Dit sluit aan by die feit dat ons spelende wesens is (homo ludens); dat ons pas waarlik mense is, wanneer ons speel – soos Schiller digterlik beweer het. In hierdie spel weet ons: wie nie speel nie, is ‘n barbaar. Ons weet egter ook: wie net wil opgaan in genotsugtigheid, is óók ‘n barbaar. Hierdie spel is nie ‘n wedstryd, soos ‘n toets tussen die Springbokke en die All Blacks nie. Die doel is nie wen nie: “Het spel in de zin van iets voorstellen, dansen, spelen met klank, kleur, lijn en taal is iets anders dan het spel om overwinning.” (Hoenderdaal ) Die “doel” is die eer van God – Soli Deo Gloria – en, as dít verwesenlik word, val ook die ander dimensies van die liturgie in plek.

Dié spel is dus nooit ‘n oppervlakkige vrolikheid nie, maar vol erns, dikwels vol trane – omdat God se bedoeling met die lewe, sy skoonheid, waarheid en goedheid, op soveel terreine gedwarsboom en omgekeer word. Trouens, die spel waarvan hier sprake is, word gekenmerk deur ambivalensie, deur ‘n polariteit, ‘n voortdurende wisselwerking tussen wat ìs en wat behoort te wees. Dis voluit spél, maar tegelykertyd ook voor-spel, vol antisipasie van ‘n wêreld waarop spelenderwys gehóóp word. In dieselfde sin moet die liturgie nie net kan lag nie, maar ook huil, moet dit ook deurdronge wees van weemoed, moet dit ook sug in die pyne van verwagting van ‘n beter wêreld (vgl. Rom. 8: 22). ‘n Liturgie wat hierdie ervarings van disoriëntasie uitdruk, hoef en kàn daarom nie wegskram van die realiteit van wonde en verwonding nie. Liturgie is die spel van God se gryse kinders.

Om ‘n liturg te wees en te preek, is om te speel. Bohren praat van ‘n heilige spel, ‘n spel met moontlikhede, met woorde, met die Woord, met die gemeente, met die lewe, met ervarings, met geleenthede, met rituele en simbole, kortom, met alles wat oor die pad van die prediker kom. Wie hom of haar aan hierdie spel wil onttrek, is ‘n homiletiese nar – en dis geensins snaaks nie. Teologie, en daarom liturgie, mag nooit ‘n afgeronde, geslote sisteem raak waarbinne alles vas en seker binne geykte patrone en volgordes verloop nie.

Om ‘n teoloog te wees, is eerder om te dans, het Van Ruler ook gesê. Teologie is wesenlik disparaat. Dit leef van alternatiewe. In sinkretisme sit daar daarenteen altyd iets verstikkends. ‘n Mens kan alleen asem haal, alleen maar speel en dans voor en met God, as jy in die vars lug van teenstrydighede gebring word. Wie alle oneffenhede in die Bybelse teks en teologie wil afskuur, kan nie dans nie. Wie alles “tot ‘n punt wil bring”, kan nie lag nie. Wie alle misteries probeer oplos, alle teenstrydighede probeer rasionaliseer en uiteindelik ook “opklaar”, verstaan nie die spel van God nie. In al sulke pogings tot ontluistering sit die gees van die kettery. Wie ‘n liturg wil wees, word nie bloot ‘n kenner van erediens-volgordes nie, maar ‘n danser – saam met God.

Liturgy as Play

Liturgy as play has certain characteristics. It is played on a playing field and takes place according to certain game rules – like all good forms of play. It correlates with the fact that we are playful human beings (homo ludens); that we are truly people when we play – as Schiller postulated poetically in his Letters upon the Aesthetic Education of Man (1794).¹ In this game we know: the person who does not play is a barbarian. But we also know: we do not play for a pleasure that spoils the pleasure of other players – that would also be barbaric. This game is not a competition, like a soccer match between Brazil and Argentina. The purpose is not to win at all costs: this play with dancing, sound, colour, form and language is something different from the play for the sole purpose of victory. The “purpose” here is the glory of God – soli deo gloria – and, if this is realised, the other dimensions of the liturgy also fall into place.

So this play or game is never merely for the sake of superficial frivolity, but often full of tears – because God’s intention with life, its beauty, truth and goodness, is thwarted and sabotaged in so many ways. In fact, the play we are talking about here is characterised by ambivalence, by a polarity, a constant reciprocity between what is and what should be, or ought to be. It is play without holding back, but at the same time also full of anticipation of a world which is playfully hoped for. In the same sense the liturgy should not only be able to laugh, but also to lament – because life is often inundated by worry and woe; it also groans in the pain of expectation of a better world (cf. Rom 8:22). A liturgy that expresses all these experiences of disorientation cannot and does not have to avoid the reality of sorrow and suffering. Liturgy is the play of God’s grey children.

To be a liturgist and a preacher is to play. Bohren refers to a holy game, a game with possibilities, with words, with the Word, with the congregation, with life’s experiences, with opportunities, with rituals and symbols, in short, with everything that crosses the path of the liturgist and preacher. The person who wants to withdraw from this game is a homiletic clown – and that is not funny at all. Theology, and therefore liturgy, may never become a closed system in which everything is fixed and certain, and in which liturgy proceeds according to set patterns and rigid and prescribed church laws.

To be a theologian is rather to dance, Van Ruler also said. Theology is fundamentally disparate. It lives off alternatives. In syncretism, on the other hand, there is something stifling. One can only breathe, play and dance before and with God, if you are brought into the fresh air of contradictions. The person who wants to polish down the rough edges of the biblical text and theology cannot dance. The person who wants to bring everything “to the point” cannot laugh. The person who wants to solve all mysteries, rationalises all contradictions and eventually resolves them does not understand God’s game. In such attempts at disclosure lies the spirit of heresy. The person who wants to be a liturgist becomes not primarily an expert on worship service procedures, but rather a dancer – with God.

1^ Republished by Fordham University Press, 1998: 36.

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