At least, I don't think so.
In some circles, it seems like the word "liturgy" has a connotation somewhat like the word "liberal". "Liturgy" is a code word for everything that is wrong with the church: ritual and repetition without meaning, doing the same thing over and over again. Liturgy is boring and not spontaneous. It is right up there with organ music and hymns written before 1980. In many many church growth books out there these days, at least one of the steps is something on the order of "get rid of liturgy".
But, is this really the problem? All worship has to have an order to it, just like most of us, when we travel, travel on roads. Sometimes it is exciting to travel on rough terrain in a jeep, and at other times, the most important thing is simply to get there. Absolutely, the journey is important, but I am not with those who say that the destination doesn't matter. At the end of the day, the most important thing is that I arrive at home, and not somewhere else. In the same way, I have been moved and fed by many different kinds of worship services, from high liturgies to Pentecostal praise services. Liturgy is not rote repetition to me; it contains the richness of art and poetry and beauty.
One of the problems with liturgy, I think, is that those of us who are used to it take it for granted. We travel this particular road from week to week; we're used to it. Some of us are aware of why we take this road and the specific scenery to watch out for; others don't know why, and we have never taught them. We may hold to liturgy too rigidly, using it to keep the presence of God away instead of to draw near. We may hold to liturgy too loosely, not recognizing the beauty of the structures in the same way we don't always recognize the beauty in a sonnet.
Not everyone has grown up with liturgy, it may be argued. But not everyone has grown up speaking in tongues, either, and I don't see Pentecostals casting that element of their faith aside, believing it to be odd and a stumbling block.
Last week, I presided at several funerals. The first one, on Monday, was for a dear man who had grown quite deaf. Yet he came to church every Sunday, even though he could not hear one word of the sermon or the music of the songs.
He was fed by the words of the liturgy, which he recited week after week. He was fed by the words of the Creed, and by participating in the Lord's Supper with his community of faith.
Liturgy may be a barrier for some, but for others, it is a door to the presence of God. Some day, it may even be so for you.