When I first taught my son to play chess, we went over the basics: the names of the pieces (“That’s a knight, not a horsey.”), how the pieces move; the way each piece captures—even the relative value of the pieces. After playing for a bit, I realized I had neglected to tell him something rather important—the point of the game! You win a game of chess by checkmating your opponent’s king. Without the end in mind, my son’s moves, though technically legal, were random and purposeless. The end determines the value of every move. Only with the goal in mind do I know if it is wise to sacrifice my queen. Without an end, there is a lack of direction and meaning.
The same is true of the liturgy. Before we decide how to carry out the liturgy—what hymns or chants we sing, which vestments are appropriate, or how to arrange the sanctuary—we must know what the liturgy is for. We must start with the end in mind. If we don’t, we risk treating the details as ends in themselves, missing the forest for the trees. Worse, we may inadvertently instrumentalize the liturgy for our own ends or agendas. It is essential, therefore, never to lose sight of the two inseparable ends of the liturgy: the glorification of God and the sanctification of man (see Sacrosanctum Concilium, 5, 7, 10, 59, 61, 83, 112).
We know all about glory in the liturgy. It shows up in its prayers: “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.” “Glory to God in the highest….” We say these words constantly, but what do they mean? God is infinitely perfect from all eternity. Nothing we do contributes the smallest addition to his perfection, goodness, or beatitude. What, then, does it mean to glorify God?
God is infinite goodness, but everything he created he also pronounced good. Goodness in created things is “on loan” from the Creator; these things are good insofar as they reflect in some finite way the infinite goodness of God. Rocks, roses, and rabbits each give some testimony to God’s wisdom, beauty, or some other divine attribute. As Eucharistic Prayer III says, “all creation rightly gives you praise.” This manifestation of God’s perfection in created reality is his glory. “The glory of God consists in the realization of this manifestation and communication of his goodness, for which the world was created” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 294).
Unlike the rest of visible creation around us, we (along with the angels) have an intellect to know the truth, and a will to choose the good in love. While rocks, roses, and rabbits give glory to God simply by being that which God created them to be, we participate in God’s goodness in a deeper way through our freely chosen acts. Our words and actions, when rightly ordered, proclaim God’s majesty. In us, creation’s mute praise finds a voice. St. Augustine defined glory as clara notitia cum laude, or “brilliant notoriety with praise.” Nowhere is this truer than in the liturgy. In the Church’s worship, Christ himself renders perfect glory to the Father in their bond of love which is their Spirit. Every chant, every prayer, every rubric is joined to his eternal praise. The liturgy is the privileged place where God’s glory resounds most perfectly on earth.
Glorifying God goes hand in hand with that other goal of the liturgy: sanctification, being made holy, signifies that God both heals and transforms the sinner. Sin falsifies who God is when we fail to love him above all things. It falsifies who we are as creatures created to know, love, and serve God. Like a lamp cord pulled from the outlet, sin detaches us from the only source of life and love. Sin, the rejection of life and love, leads to death and despair, “for the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23). We can no more save ourselves from sin than a corpse can breathe life back into itself. We stand in need of a savior. Through his death and resurrection, Jesus saves us from sin and eternal death.
Salvation from sin is only half the story though. God’s grace not only heals; it elevates. Our sanctification makes us children of God, partakers of the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4). Salvation is not just about avoiding hell, but about sharing in the dynamic self-giving love found in the inner life of the Trinity.
This saving transformation occurs above all in the liturgy. “For it is in the liturgy, especially in the divine sacrifice of the Eucharist, that ‘the work of our redemption is accomplished’” (CCC, 1068; SC, 2). In the sacraments we are forgiven, nourished, and divinized. Christ applies the fruits of his Passion to us, conforming us ever more closely to his own image.
The glorification of God and the sanctification of man find their unity in the person and work of Christ. On the cross, Jesus offered his perfect obedience, glorifying the Father, and he poured out grace, sanctifying humanity. The Church, his Body, exists to continue this twofold mission. And the Church’s liturgy is the preeminent place where both are achieved: “Christ indeed always associates the Church with Himself in this great work wherein God is perfectly glorified and men are sanctified” (SC, 7).
If we lose sight of these central ends of the liturgy, we risk seeing and treating it as just one more human activity—optional, even replaceable. Other goods found in the liturgy, things like fellowship, beauty, and inspiration, can be found in many places, often with greater polish or appeal than at our local parish. But when the liturgy’s true ends are understood, we see why it is essential and irreplaceable. The liturgy provides us something utterly unique: a participation in Christ’s own glorification of the Father and in his work of our redemption. Keeping these ends in view broadens our vision of the liturgy, guarding us from narrowing our focus on our own preferences or on secondary details. Those details no doubt matter, but only as the means to a greater end. The liturgy realizes the very goals of our lives—to glorify the Father, and through the Spirit to be conformed to the image of his Son.
