Category Archives: Anglican

Announcement #3: Daily Office on iDevices!

(More) Big news!

Forward Movement has released their very first mobile app; it’s available for both the iPhone and the iPad. Named Forward Day by Day after their main product, it contains the full text of not only the Forward Day by Day devotional but also a full-featured—and customizable—Daily Office application!

As I mentioned before, Scott Gunn approached me a while back about adapting the St Bede’s Breviary code. With the help of an internet co-conspirator, we did the Daily Prayer site, but now the iPhone version is officially out.

And it looks great!

What we’ve got here is the regular BCP Office as you’ll find it on the breviary, but with a more limited set of options. You won’t find your Marian devotions here, but it’ll let you switch between rites and kalendars and a few other things.

The full details are laid out here in the official press release. It retails for $6.99 and that includes the full text of Foward Day by Day in addition to the awesome Office stuff and the kalendar extras we’ve built in, etc.  If you have an iDevice, you really need to get yourself this app… Click here to go to the iTunes app section and get yourself one! (And, yes, as part of the development team, I do earn a small amount from each sale so each one you buy is like a little thank-you note to the beautiful and long-suffering M who wonders out loud if I’m doing anything useful  at that computer… :-D)

If you’re like M and me, though, and have an Android device—I’m told that’s in the works and should be out in a little bit.

On All Souls

The modern church dearly needs All Souls. In particular, we need to see and understand that there is a distinction between All Saints and All Souls. Especially in a time when the Baptismal Covenant is being highlighted as an important part of our ecclesiology, we must be able to point out and explain the difference between the two days.

Baptism joins us to Christ, to the church, to the company of all faithful people. It invites us to the life hid in God.

It invites us to the life hid in God—but it does not thereby accomplish that life within us.

Baptism is a covenant. It is a set of promises. Christ makes promises to us, and we know that his word is trustworthy and true. But we also make promises. Our word isn’t as good.

Our promises—the ones that we take upon ourselves in Baptism—are confirmed in the cruciform life of discipleship. All Saints holds before our eyes the life of discipleship in every age and condition, and reminds us that discipleship does not end at the edge of the grave. The work of love, care, and intercession continues.

All Souls reminds us of the importance of Baptism, but also acknowledges that Baptism—indeed, salvation—is not the end of the Christian life. It is the beginning.

Does this mean that All Souls is the feast of the “also ran”? That it is the day for second-class Christians? It can come across that way, particularly when we only see from this perspective in contrast to All Saints. But there’s another important side of it as well. All Saints is a party; it’s a rejoicing. All Souls gives us a liturgical moment for grief. Yes, we have faith in the resurrection. But just as much we are embodied emotional beings who miss those whom we love and see no longer. We can’t pretend that death is all party. Death is pain; death is tragedy. Some deaths are better than others, but no death is easy. All Souls gives us space to offer and honor our sadness and grief.

This year is particularly poignant in our house following the death earlier in the year of M’s grandfather, Horace. His was a good death following a truly exemplary life.  As I celebrate these days this year, I can’t help but find him in both observances. A man virtually bristling with the Christian virtues, one who formed M strongly in the faith, and supported her in her ministry when no one else in her family did, he has been a beacon of Christ to us. I can’t help but believe that he is among the blessed—and that’s not a thing I say easily or lightly. On the other hand, we still mourn his passing; we weep for us and for the Christ-pointing presence that we lost. I thought of him last night at mass, and will remember him again tonight.

May all the faithful departed rest in peace—and may all the blessed company of heaven pray for us.

For your observance of the day, a BCP-style Morning Prayer for the Dead and Evening Prayer for the Dead are available. Also available are the traditional Offices for the Dead in Rite I (Matins, Lauds, Vespers) and in Rite II (Matins, Lauds, Vespers).

Heard in Church: Anglican Chant Edition

Yesterday at mass I heard something that I couldn’t place, at first. It was during the psalm. The custom at our parish is that the choir sings the psalm in Anglican chant as the congregation looks on. I’d rather we all sing it, of course, so I’ll often hum the bass part under my breath. Well, this time I caught a sound that was high and faint moving along with the music. At first I thought it might be an overtone but then I realized it that it was Lil’ H  sitting next to me singing the melody line of the chant.

Say what you want about how Anglican chant is too difficult for congregational use, but I just heard a six year old do a good job of it sight-pointing the chant alongside choral and organ support. If she can do it…

Announcement #2: St Augustine’s Prayer Book

In looking over my traffic from the last couple of days, I noticed that I received some hits off a search for an online version of the St. Augustine’s Prayer Book. Sadly, there isn’t an online version of it.

For those unfamiliar with it, the St Augustine’s Prayer Book is a devotional manual historically associated with the (Episcopal) Order of the Holy Cross. St Augustine is one of their patrons. First coming out in 1947, the SAPB was revised in 1967 and has been reprinted multiple times. It’s a catholic supplement to the 1928 BCP that contains things like Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, Confession, Stations of the Cross, a wide variety of prayers, suffrages to the BVM, litanies, basic instruction in the catholic practice of the faith, the six precepts of the Church, how to hear mass profitably, etc.

If any of the items on this list sound familiar, they should… We find several of them in the additions to the Books of Hours and particularly the bilingual/vernacular primers mentioned a bit ago. In fact, the SAPB—as I see it—stands in a line of development beginning with the Books of Hours and primers. To give a really brief bird’s-eye view, the primer situation exploded during the reign of Henry the 8th as various factions attempted to sway the religious sentiment of the people by inculcating their beliefs into the devotional material of the primers. A whole line of protestant-leaning primers appeared in competition with the classical models. (Butterworth’s The English Primers (1529-1545) covers this material in close detail.) Finally—in 1545—King Henry decided to put a stop to the competing publications and promulgated a single authorized prymer that appeared in Latin, English, and bilingual editions. (Remember, Henry was liturgically conservative and the authorized liturgy of the Church of England under his reign was still the Latin-language Sarum Rite.) Authorized prymers remained in force throughout the tumultuous years of Edward, Mary and the young Elizabeth, operating (in the Protestant years) alongside the Book of Common Prayer. Prymer-like devotional books continued throughout Elizabeth’s reign in both English and Latin. Jumping ahead to the time of King Charles I before the Puritan unpleasantness, John Cosin, Dean of Peterborough then Bishop of Durham—and even later architect of the 1662 BCP—created an Anglican prymer at the request of the king. (There’s a great letter dated 1651 from John Evelyn that lays out the circumstances of its editing—the English ladies-in-waiting were much distressed that they didn’t have devotional books like the French ladies did who waited upon the king’s French-born bride.) After Cosin, a number of other works unofficial works continued the line until the Sarum Revival and the rise of the Ritualists who created the various Anglo-Catholic Manuals of Devotion. The SAPB derives in large measure from these.

As most users of such materials know, catholic liturgical supplements fell off a cliff in the late 60’s and early 70’s due to a combination of factors, the three most significant being worship book revision on both sides of the Pond, grappling with the fall-out from Vatican II, and the furor and subsequent departures around the ordination of women.  Thus, as with Ritual Notes and a host of other materials, the SAPB remained a very good supplement to the 1928 prayer book—which the Episcopal Church no longer uses.

Now to the announcement part of things…

A bit ago, folks from the Order of the Holy Cross asked Fr. David Cobb, a friend and mentor of mine, to do another revision of the SAPB that would bring it up to date—to make it a catholic supplement to the ’79 Book of Common Prayer.  This he proceeded to do, and Forward Movement will be bringing it out as soon as the final work is done. I’ve been asked to serve as liturgical editor (gilding Fr. Cobb’s lily, as it were…) to get another set of eyes on the work. We’re hoping for a fairly swift turn-around so that the presses can start rolling in the first part of 2013.

Personally, I’m quite excited to have this opportunity. I see the SAPB as one of the great tools for prayer book catholics—modelling the skills for integrating the riches of our catholic devotional treasury alongside our authorized book which partakes in the integral stream of our tradition but in no way exhausts it. Needless to say, I also feel a bit of trepidation—assisting in the updating of a classic is challenging: how to best steer the course between the soul of the original and the needs of the present generation?

So—things will get even busier around here which will probably result in fewer posts for a while and even worse delays in email responses. In the meantime, I covet your prayers for this work as we seek to be obedient scribes for the kingdom and select from our treasures what is new and what is old.

Announcement #1: SCLM

Word has officially gone out at the Cafe and over at ENS about the new line-up for the Standing Commissions and the Joint Standing Committees of the General Convention/Episcopal Church.

Thanks to nominations from some of you, I have been invited to serve for the next two triennia on the Standing Commission for Liturgy & Music.

I look forward to serving, and am committed to providing a perspective that is grounded in an appreciation for the Catholic and Anglican roots of the prayer book and is directed towards a classic spirituality to nurture discipleship for a 21st century world.

Catechism Resurrection–What’s Needed?

I noted with interest this recent post from Fr. Bryan Owen which refers to another post from Fr. Tony Clavier on lifting up the prayer book catechism. I’m personally a fan of the prayer book catechism and have used it a fair amount in my writing and teaching including this piece on its view of the sacraments.

So—what would be helpful here? What kind of resources would help resurrect the catechism as a useful tool for reference and instruction?

I’m a former Lutheran; I have at least a cubit of space on one of my shelves dedicated to “catechetical helps” that assist in the teaching of Luther’s Small Catechism to bored and distracted middle-schoolers. I haven’t reviewed them all in some time but a standard feature of this genre is Scripture citations. I’d think something that connected Scripture to our catechism would be helpful. Some of the Lutheran materials offer a list of proof-texts—while some might be helpful, I’m thinking that a more clear connection with narratives or certain biblical arguments might work better than a simple listing of verses.

Furthermore, we aren’t and don’t pretend to be a sola scriptura church; we acknowledge the place of Tradition. Does this suggest that links to patristic writings and syntheses of the Scriptural witness would be helpful as well?

I also noticed that when I was writing the piece linked to above, I jumped around a certain amount , then provided my own discursive connection-of-the-dots. To what degree is this helpful—to what degree does it represent my own impositions onto the catechism?

Thoughts? Ramblings? Whatever…?

A Pleasant Sunday Experience

The girls and I normally head down to M’s church on the first Sunday of the month to show our support for her ministry there. This past Sunday, however—being Labor Day weekend and there being no education—she had the day off and we had the opportunity to indulge ourselves as we liked. As a result, we headed into the city and went up to the parish of a good friend and mentor who presides over the finest example of an English Rite parish I’ve ever experienced. We knew that he might be away as he travels in the summer and, upon walking in the door and seeing a bulletin for Mattins, surmised that he was not, in fact, present.

What followed, however, was a testament to his parish and his devotion. A full altar party entered, complete with two blue-scarfed readers who were the senior and junior wardens. One led the service with the able assistance of a cantor, the other presented the message. The psalm was read responsively; the canticles were sung in Anglican chant by the congregation; the Creed was intoned; the Suffrages were sung. The message was a good, solid exposition of the Gospel text verbally tying the text back to and reinforcing Christ’s Summary of the Law. Its clarity and orthodoxy were evident, and surpassed several clergy sermons I’ve heard recently on both counts.  In short, the service was everything that I had expected from the rector and congregation—traditional, reverent worship in the Classical Anglican tradition—only without the rector.

At the notices, the junior warden thanked the congregation for bearing with them over the summer even though Mattins was not the favorite service of all. It had, however, enabled them to conduct services on their own without the need for supply clergy. He noted that he was proud of the parish; having three licensed lay preachers they could rotate the efforts without it being overly burdensome. I found myself nodding in agreement when he reminded them that not many other parishes could pull off something like that.

To manifest this kind of devotion requires a parish culture that is committed to doing church in a particular kind of way. It didn’t just require a few people having the knowledge of how to put together a well-done Sunday Mattins, it also required the collective will to accomplish it. I would imagine that it’s easier to turn it over to supply clergy.

It’s also more expensive.

I do believe that the day of full-time clergy in the vast majority of our parishes is coming to a close. In some locations (especially those not near urban centers), it’s a matter of finding priests; in most others, it’s a matter of shrinking budgets. We lay people will need to step up. But will we be ready when the time comes? Are our clergy mentors giving us the tools to do so when we need to?

Lee on the BCP

I’ve just finished Jeffrey Lee’s Opening the Prayer Book which is volume 7 in The New Church’s Teaching Series. Reading this was a very thought-provoking experience on a couple of levels. On one hand, the work itself is interesting, written in a colloquial and engaging fashion, and makes a definite case. As I was reading, I found myself stopping and asking how and why I would say something differently, approach something from another angle. Having just finished looking at Vicki Black’s book, I noted commonalities and consensus between the two with which I would not agree that gave me good questions around what is generally believed and taught and the degree to which I agree with this taught consensus. I also found myself asking how I define theology and spirituality, where I would draw the line between the two, and why (and to what degree) such a line matters. As I said—a thought-provoking read.

There is much that I like about this book. In particular, Lee emphasizes two critical points:

  1. Liturgy and the life of faith are dynamically interconnected. The liturgy—experienced to its full—changes lives.
  2. The prayer book enables a system of Christian habits oriented by our corporate liturgical prayer. Eucharist and the Office aren’t simply alternate choices for Sunday morning, but are part of a coherent pattern of Christian worship with deep historical and theological roots.

Lee talks about history and relates it to the prayer book, but he has not written either a prayer book history or a history of the rites of the prayer book. Instead, he discusses history in order to demonstrate that there is an historically grounded pattern of worship of which the current American prayer book is the participant par excellence. He then presents a theological orientation to the prayer book, locating its center in the Easter Vigil, then moving from the paired Eucharist and Office to the other rites of the book.

One of his central theses is that the current American prayer book displays its excellence through apparently contradictory impulses of complexity and simplicity. That is, he sees the massive multiplication of liturgical options as a sign of healthy organic growth that, at the same time, simplifies the rites as a whole because the basic foundational pattern of the rites is more apparent even through the flowering of options. The ’79 rites more fully cohere with the ancient intentions of Christian worship than even earlier Anglican rites, and thus their framework offers a superior entre into the Christian liturgical experience despite the contents of the elements in the framework. (Those familiar with Gordon Lathrop’s work will see his fingerprints all over this perspective and Lee cites him a number of times.) This gives Lee the freedom to embrace the trajectory of liturgical diversification represented by Enriching Our Worship and similar initiatives with open arms: as long as the framework coheres with his sense of the pattern, the content can be fluid.

It’s an interesting perspective, but not one with which I can wholly agree. Such a perspective when taken too far can become quite cavalier about the actual content of Christian worship; Lee doesn’t go there, but neither do I find him drawing the boundary lines that would have to be drawn concerning content.

Perhaps my central point of disagreement with Lee is in his synthesis of Christian liturgical history and his notion of a single correct primitive pattern of Christian worship from which the past departed, to which the Reformation pointed, until ultimately recaptured by the Liturgical Renewal Movement. Following this kind of a pattern it’s inevitable that the word “medieval” will become a swear word as it represents the nadir of falling away from the primitive pattern. And such is certainly the case throughout this book. As a student of medieval liturgy, this struck me as a bit short-sighted…

On one hand, I fault failures in his synthesis. In particular, he falls into the trope (also found in Black’s book) that in the (Western—the East is never in view) medieval period, liturgy and its spirituality became the sole preserve of the clergy and monastic elite who alone inhabited and understood it. First, this ignores the vibrant tradition of lay liturgical spirituality represented by the Books of Hours and prymers. Second, I believe it assumes a much more educated clergy than the sources do. Latin literacy of average parochial clergy would not have been that much greater than many of their congregants requiring a different perspective on the assumed (and perhaps largely constructed) gulf between the understanding of the laity and the clergy.

On the other hand, such a synthesis raises again the theological problem of the Holy Spirit. If the entire body of Christendom—East and West—fell into such significant error around our fundamental worship practices, what exactly was the Holy Spirit up to with reference to the Church? Did it take a millennium-long nap and only conveniently wake up for the Western Reformation? Sorry—I have a really hard time buying it… Yes, the Liturgical Renewal Movement did some great work. Yes, there are aspects of our current prayer book that seem to better reflect the spirit of apostolic worship than our caricature of a thirteen century non-communicating High Mass. And yet, I can’t go along with the notion that the medieval liturgical experience, the spirituality that supported it, and the thinking, writing, and praying that came out of it (think Julian of Norwich, for example…) was entirely an aberration.

At the end of the day, I find Lee’s book to be a big step closer to what I’m looking for than others. Its emphasis on a pattern of Christian liturgy informing Christian life and on the prayer book offering a system of habits is most salutary. However, its historical synthesis and its over-emphasis on framework as opposed to content give me pause. I could see myself use this in a discussion group, using it as a text to be engaged and wrestled with rather than subscribed to.

Up next, Louis Weil’s A Theology of Worship likewise from The New Church’s Teaching Series…

SCP Conference!

Registration is open for the upcoming Society of Catholic Priests meeting. This year, it’ll be taking place near CDSP in Glendale, California from October 10th through the 13th.

The SCP has graciously asked me back this year as a presenter. Here’s the official schpeil I wrote up for my talk:

Attentiveness: Liturgical and Scriptural Formation and the Anglo-Catholic Social Tradition
Dr. Derek Olsen, Theologian-in-Residence at Church of the Advent in Baltimore, MD

How does social consciousness relate to a movement best known for elaborate liturgy and ceremonial? What is the role of liturgical prayer in solving the ills of the world outside our naves? Drawing on Scripture and the Anglo-Catholic tradition of liturgical prayer, Dr. Olsen will discuss how a vibrant liturgical spirituality draws us into–rather than away from–engagement with and advocacy for justice and reconciliation in the political and social orders.

Writing is well under way, and I think we’ll be going in some interesting directions!

I feel quite strongly that the SCP is an important organization for the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada right now. Our churches need a group that will speak clearly about Anglican doctrine, liturgy, and spirituality grounded in the richness of our catholic heritage. I still feel that a lay group is needed and have been doing some writing and networking around this (on and offline) that has yet to bear concrete fruit. However, along this line, I want to bring to your attention a change in policy for the upcoming SCP meeting:

 For the first time in its existence, the SCP has decided to open up a limited number of guest registrations to lay people who may be interested in and contribute to our common life. BEFORE YOU REGISTER HERE, please send an e-mail to thescpinnorthamerica@gmail.com with information regarding why you would like to attend the Conference. The SCP Council will consider each registration on a case-by-case basis. Once approved, you can register your place here.

Now, I know there are some folks out there who really ought to be at the meeting but who are not among the ranks of the ordained. Please consider this prayerfully, and get in touch with these folks if you’re able to attend.

If you are a clergy person and read this blog, and haven’t considered the Society and what it does, please do.

The registration page for the conference with more details and info on the other speakers is here.

Resourcing BCP Spirituality

Following my “almost manifesto” on the need to teach the spirituality of the BCP to the church rather than simply teaching points of historical development and an initial start in that direction, I’ve received a number of requests concerning what resources are available to do this.

It’s a good and important question to which I am attempting to find an answer…

In response to my post, JD Ballard put up a solid post that moves the ball a bit further down the field than mine.

I also started wondering about the popular introductions to the BCP that have been put out by the Church Publishing and others. I confess that my own studies of the BCP have come in through the back rather than the front, so to speak. That is, I’ve engaged it as someone grounded in the medieval English liturgical tradition and early history of the BCP and have largely skipped over introductory works. As a result, I’ve realized that it’s time to go ahead and do that.

I’m in the process of surveying some books on the topic and will post thoughts here as I read through them. My focus here will not be to offer a general review of the books and their content but to ask the narrow and specific question of how how well they work as resources for teaching either laity or clergy the spirituality of the BCP.

While it’s not necessarily an introduction, I’d be remiss if I didn’t start with Hatchett. Typically, clergy offices and the bookshelves of interested laity contain a copy of Marion Hatchett’s Commentary on the American Prayer Book. As a result, when clergy or lay leaders want to know or do something with a part of the prayer book, this tends to be where they go first. That’s a natural response. In fact, it’s a learned response because most folks who have taken formal academic coursework on the prayer book did this for homework. Unfortunately, it’s not the best response when dealing with the topic at hand.

Hatchett’s book is an excellent tool and does what it is intended to do very well. A quick glance at the table of contents shows how the book is structured and lets us know how it’s going to proceed. As most commentaries do (biblical or otherwise) it cleaves to the order of the text and moves systematically from part to part. For major portions, the text is organized in two logical units labelled “Background” and “Commentary”. The “Background” section gives a brief treatise on the history of the rite or concept as a whole touching on some theological themes or changes but speaking primarily about historical changes to the structure and/or content of the matter at hand. The “Commentary” serves to point out applicable rubrics, suggest when various options might be utilized, to point out theological differences between the ’79 book and earlier forms, and to identify the source of the prayer book text.

I go to Hatchett when I want to see how he draws a big-picture synthesis of a particular change to a rite or when I want to know when, where, and for what purpose a particular prayer was composed. That is, I’ll approach a prayer from the Gelasian Missal differently from one written in 1662 o in the 1930s. Not that the earlier one is necessarily better, but knowing the sources gives me insight into why certain concepts or doctrines are framed the way they were—what the prayer is and is not saying and what fights it’s either picking, avoiding, or totally oblivious of.

Knowledge of this sort is, for the most part, not particularly useful for entering into the spirituality of the text. Rarely does knowing the origin of something help me pray it better, more attentively, more intently. Understanding the organization of the rite does play into our ability to access its spirituality, but our spiritual appreciation of a rite’s movement is rarely tied to understanding the historical movement of distinct elements. Rather it’s understanding how the flow leads our spirits in particular directions and this is a not a topic that Hatchett has helped me see. Again—that’s not his intention either.

Thus, Hatchett gives us a very useful tool for understanding the history of our rites. I don’t agree with him in all particulars, especially in his syntheses (I’d accent certain things differently), but there is no other resources that gives such a clear identification of the sources of the prayer book elements. Its value for understanding and communicating the spirituality of the texts described is limited. Yet time and again when I hear presentations on liturgy they fall back into this pattern and model.

I’ve also been reading Deacon Vicki Black’s Welcome to the Book of Common Prayer in the Kindle form (hence no page numbers—sorry…). This is a brief introduction to the prayer book that serves as both an introduction and an apologia. That is, it’s aimed at communicating to a  broadly American protestant audience that may be slightly suspicious of a book of “wrote-down prayers.” The writing style is friendly and accessible, leaving aside the bulk of the liturgical jargon and explaining terms that would be unfamiliar. The perspective presented is a middle-of-the-road trending higher. Thus, it acknowledges that there will be differences between high and low liturgies and mentions that a thurible might be present at some elements (like a Eucharistic Gospel procession), but otherwise takes a Broad Church line.

The table of contents shows that the ordering of liturgies is somewhat different from the BCP itself; it follows the order in which the liturgies might be encountered by a visitor or seeker, starting with Baptism, then going to Eucharist, then the Offices, and then into the pastoral rites. However, the approach within the rites themselves is also cast within an historical mode. While Hatchett and I prefer to look at liturgies by beginning with the 2nd or 4th century and moving to the present day, Black resolutely begins with the perspective of the present prayer book, and looks at the history in light of where we are now, highlighting in particular continuities between present and past practice but also noting spots where we differ from either historical practice or other Christian groups.

Because it’s a short book with limited space for each topic, Black does a lot of synthesis in describing the history of churches and rites. Aside from a few factual errors my main disagreements with the book would be in how these syntheses are sketched. In particular, the relationship between the pre- and post-Reformation churches seems much to discontinuous for my liking and follows the standard narrative that all of the liturgies were taken away from the people and were the preserve of the clergy and religious. Books of Hours in this section are mentioned in passing only, and are explained as one-volume breviaries which fails to capture their spirit or their use. (This definition is corrected to a slight degree in the section on the Office but not to my satisfaction.) While this may seem a minor point, I’d argue that overlooking the place of the Books of Hours, prymers, and lay mass devotionals presents a much more discontinuous picture of English spirituality pre- and post-Reformation than was actually the case.

Black does weave in some comments on theology and spirituality. For instance, her discussion of how we engage the words of the liturgies—following the words of the book in common with the church and one another, but ideally not getting hung up on the words themselves—or her discussion on the spirit of the Daily Office as offering are helpful but brief. Again, she’s writing a brief introduction; spirituality is not her focus.

In summary, Black’s book does what it intends to do—to give an accessible introduction to the prayer book for those getting into it for the first time. History is its main paradigm. Attention to spirituality is present but not prevalent. While this book would be a good MOTR introduction, it cannot serve as a text for teaching prayer book spirituality without significant addition and adaptation.

This is where I shall pause…

I’m also reading Jeffrey Lee’s Opening the Prayer Book and will give it a post of its own once I’ve finished it and collected my thoughts; my initial sense is that this work is more what we’re looking for. I also intend to write-up a bit concerning where the teaching of prayer book history falls in the teaching of prayer book spirituality. In my experience and in the historical orientation of the books surveyed to this point, the teaching of history is often done in place of the teaching of spirituality or—perhaps more unfortunately—the teaching of history is mistaken for the teaching of spirituality.