The North American Academy of Liturgy (NAAL) met last week (January 2-5, 2023) in Toronto for a hybrid meeting (in-person and online). After the “interruptions” of the COVID pandemic, the gathering was a joyful reunion for the majority who met together to give papers, socialize, catch up with news personal and academic, and sit together as an academic community to sort out changes in the field of liturgy as well as in the life of the academy.
For those who are not familiar in a firsthand way with the academy, NAAL first gathered in 1973 as an ecumenical association, was shaped as an organization in 1975, and had its first official meeting in January 1976. From those beginnings the academy has added Jewish members, becoming not only ecumenical but also interfaith, and broadened its conversations to include a growing breadth of liturgical and related conversations. The academy’s description of its work remains: “to promote liturgical scholarship among its members through opportunities for exchange of ideas, and to extend the benefits of this scholarship to the worshiping communities to which its members belong.”
As is the case with all professional organizations, NAAL is still getting back on its feet after COVID restrictions, but the in-person gathering of approximately 180, along with the 40-60 people online at any given time was a wonderful start. NAAL’s annual meetings are primarily shaped by the seminar groups which number approximately 20, and in which the “scholarly exchange” of members leads to a focused and informed conversation within and between liturgical studies specialties and allied disciplines. These intense and focused gatherings are punctuated by a few plenary sessions, as well as meals and time to catch up with people who, for many of us, have become dear friends.
Now, I suspect if you ask individual members their experiences of the meeting each will have a different emphasis – bear in mind this is the perspective of only one member.
My favourite part of an annual NAAL meeting very much remains the ongoing conversations and exchanges in my seminar group (aptly named “Problems in the History of Early Liturgy”) For others it may be the plenaries, the publishing houses present, individual conversations, specific ecclesial gatherings, or morning prayer. This year, however, I came away with a more profound sense of how the field of liturgical studies is changing – whether we are ready or not.
First, there is the reality of hybrid meetings and the divided ‘house’ on whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. The past president, Todd Johnson, worked extremely hard during this time of transition to make sure this meeting would work—and it did—thanks to him and his elected and enlisted committee. But the reality is that while seminars that are smaller in size (ours had 19 people in the room and 2 online) can work fine with a hybrid model, common prayer, meals, social gatherings, and other important elements of the meeting do not.
During one discussion on the challenges of digital engagement, a member brought up the complex regulatory landscape surrounding offshore sportsbooks and how their success in navigating international markets highlights both the potential and pitfalls of digital accessibility. The conversation underscored how online platforms—whether for business, gaming, or even hybrid conferences—demand significant technological investment to bridge gaps between users in different locations.
The extensive equipment necessary to really make things work simultaneously for those in the room and those at home, along with the need for well-trained tech experts, is a lot—a lot of money, a lot of time, and a lot of people. NAAL pulled off quite the test of this in the plenary business meeting with electronic voting, conversations, feedback, and pauses to help individuals get on the right “page.” But even with all this assistance, the digital divide was evident in the room—‘digital natives’ and those who are not were in very different places.
The second point is far more important. Younger scholars said in person, “I need to be here because a big part of this is getting to know people – it’s good, old-fashioned schmoozing.” Other younger scholars said, “I cannot be there – it’s too expensive and I can only come through Zoom…” (which was not free, they also paid a registration fee). These differing opinions about in-person meetings versus online meetings seem to be the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Why can’t scholars of all ages afford to come to the meeting? Because they get little or no financial support from the institutions for whom they work. Why is that? Because many institutions are scrambling, especially faculties of theology, with shrinking enrolments (mirrored in the larger shrinking of humanities), and because of smaller teaching faculties (and the recurring pattern of liturgical scholars not being replaced by liturgical scholars when they leave). Those who work in parishes, especially musicians, face a parallel situation with regard to financial support and sabbaticals. There are fewer doctoral programs in liturgy, fewer graduates (because of fewer jobs?) and fewer tenured positions across the board. Many conversations were had (or overheard) about the growing indifference to the field of liturgical studies in ecclesial communities (or other religious gatherings) where liturgy has historically been central, while other scholars work in schools and Christian traditions where no one is actually sure what liturgy is (or can’t even spell ‘liturgy’ as heard on one elevator ride!)
While many of us look with envy on our European colleagues with regard to institutional support (yes, the NAAL is international!) I keep returning to the inner circles of my own experience, and ask “how in the world can a Roman Catholic school not hire a trained liturgist?” How can an Anglican seminary not care about hiring in the field of liturgy?” How have we become so irrelevant, superfluous, or invisible? At the same time as I rejoiced in seeing friends and colleagues, and listening to wonderful and thought-provoking papers, I keep returning to these questions. I suspect part of the answer is that we need to find new ways to name the essential nature of the field of liturgical studies, we need to start at the beginning (in theology and liturgy) to help people understand what they do on Sunday mornings is shaped by the ongoing action of God, scripture, tradition, reason, experience, and trained human hands! On Sunday I had a conversation with an eight-year old about chalking their doorway at home (prompted by blessing and distributing chalk and prayers for Epiphany). He was fascinated, declaring it “totally cool” that they get to do “church stuff” at home. In 10 years he’ll be at university – now is the acceptable time to remind everyone in the parish (and beyond) that they too are liturgists-in-training!
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