Category Archives: Liturgy

Readjust Expectations

Apparently I didn’t read the list of contributors at Pray Tell close enough; the latest post is a screed against Rite I by none other than Richard Giles, liturgical designer of the Philly Cathedral.

Update

Here’s the comment I left there that I think gets at the heart of the situation:

The case that the author is trying to make is that when the ‘79 BCP came out, there were certain people who refused to accept those reforms. Those people were then placated with an early service where, in the author’s opinion, they could pretend the reforms had not happened and did not exist. These 7:30/8 AM Eucharists thus became the “Institutionalized Dissent” where the Episcopal Church mistakenly allowed the recalcitrant to maintain their delusions.

That’s the argument I see being put forward. But there’s a serious flaw with it, and it’s this—the BCP is 30 years old. The Reforms have happened and the reforms have been deeply embedded in the culture of the Episcopal Church. The ‘79 BCP has succeeded so well that it has almost inadvertently stamped out the venerable Anglican practice of Choral Morning Prayer that could (and perhaps should) happen in concert with the Principal Eucharist.

I’m 35. I know *nothing* except the new environment. To put a finer point on it, I grew up Lutheran with the LBW (Green Book) that itself taught the same reforms as the ‘79 BCP and the Novus Ordo. When I moved to the Episcopal Church 10 years ago it was strictly into a ‘79 BCP environment. And yet I find that I and many others my age have a love for Rite I. For those of us who grew up in the most media manipulated culture ever, we’re looking for something with integrity and authenticity. If I can find that–and a healthy dose of poetry–in the language of Rite I, why is that a problem?

What I see in many of the Roman fans of the NLM and the usus antiquor is the same. The Reform is already in their bones! They’ve never known a time where the mass wasn’t in the vernacular! They are not the same opponents you faced in the post-conciliar years and if you treat them as such you will fail by dint of your own refusal to listen and understand what it is that they are hungering for.

It’s not the early eighties any more. People who take issues with certain ways that the ’79 BCP and Novus Ordo are implemented are not simply knee-jerk reactionaries who want the old ways back. This new generation of which I am a part are looking back at the older rites and materials from an entirely new perspective and that is what many of our critics fail to grasp.

Is This Constructive Diversity?: Responding to Cody Unterseher

Introduction

There’s a new group blog up which looks quite promising. Whether of their own volition or in response to the New Liturgical Movement (or some combination of the two), a group of moderate mainline Catholic liturgists have begun Pray Tell. It’s not exclusively a Roman Catholic endeavor, though—a piece by an Episcopalian went up today.

Fr. Cody Unterseher presents a piece entitled Living with Diversity, Living in Charity. To my eye, it’s a piece designed to gently persuade Roman Catholic readers that liturgical diversity is possible within a given parish without the acrimony and rancor that such change can often inspire; different liturgical “factions” really can live together in peace. As an introduction to Roman readers, it is a calming voice that soothes those who fear social upheaval in liturgical spaces.

I enjoyed his piece and, following the various links, I suspect I’d quite enjoy worship at his parish (hark, a Dearmerite!). However, as an insider, I have some concerns with the picture that he presents.

I have four main concerns which I’ll introduce here, then lay out in detail below. My first point is that he creates an overly irenic picture of liturgical diversity. While he draws a quick sketch of the diversity within American Anglicanism, this diversity is less present in the description of his parish. My second point is that the presentation of the three worship options that he outlines are, in my experience, not considered equal options by the leadership of the parishes with which I’m familiar. My third point is that even this picture of diversity is, in fact, contained within a relatively narrow range for representing the Anglican heritage within the Episcopal Church. My fourth point returns more closely to the topic at hand and ponders how closely the Episcopal and Roman contexts map onto one another.

On Liturgical Diversity

The author begins with a quick nod to the standard threefold division of liturgical styles within the Anglican fold:

Episcopal parishes describe themselves variously as “high,” “low,” and “broad,” terms that reflect both preferences in liturgical style, and degrees of theological commitment to principles articulated during the reforms of the sixteenth century. And in spite of all the headline-grabbing difficulties in the Episcopal Church and in the Anglican Communion, there remains a lot of room for positive, healthy diversity in expression, especially on the level of parish life.

He also explains the presence of Rites I and II in our parishes for the benefit of his Roman readers:

When the 1979 Book of Common Prayer appeared, it included two series of services: “Rite I” in traditional (though faux) Tudor-Stuart English, and“Rite II” in contemporary English. Some parishes adopted one, some the other, and some made use of both. Likewise, some parishes adopted a versus populum style of liturgy, with the celebrant facing the congregation over the altar, while some retained ad orientem or eastward-facing worship.

This is a non-controversial assessment of what you’ll find within any given Episcopal parish. What I will raise, here, however, is a point which the author makes but fails to develop. He states here, accurately, that “Some parishes adopted one, some the other, and some made use of both.”  In the first quote above, he correctly notes that “Episcopal parishes describe themselves variously as ‘high,’ ‘low,’ and ‘broad,’…” and that’s the beginning of my concern.

Episcopalians tend to group themselves by parishes. There is tremendous diversity between parishes, but we typically do not find the span originally described—high, low, and broad— and the diversity represented by these factions within parishes as exhibited in their public liturgies. I’ll unpack this further in a moment.

As a demonstration of the irenicism prevalent at his parish, Fr. Unterseher describes the following procedure:

The parish I serve, in a suburb of New York City, makes use of a mix of these styles every Sunday: the early Eucharist is eastward-facing and uses Rite I texts. The principal celebration is also eastward-facing, but uses the modern language of Rite II. And at the evening Eucharist, celebrated in contemporary English, the the congregation gathers closely around all four sides of the freestanding altar. Each of these styles, each of these approaches has historical precedent, and can be justified by sound theology. Moreover, each approach has been adopted for significant and carefully considered pastoral reasons. Taken together, our three regularly scheduled Sunday liturgies represent a large cross-section of American Episcopal worship.

Both the description here and pictures of the parish (look—riddel posts!) make clear that this is a High Church parish. The dead give-away even without the pictures is an eastward-facing principle service. Many Broad and most Low Church Episcopalians would not stand for this—and east-facing Eucharists at Broad Church parishes are rarer than hen’s teeth.

From his description it looks like he has indeed incorporated services of two styles at his parish: High and Broad. The first two are High while the evening service seems to be Broad (gather ’round the altar being a now-classic piece Broad/Progressive ceremonial) and possibly unvested clergy.

Yes, there is a cross-section represented here, but it’s also unusual. In my experience most parishes will strongly identify with one of the three camps, and all of the liturgies will reflect that view. The choices at my current parish, for example are Broad, Broad, and Broad. (This is most evident on the very rare occasions when they think that they’re being “High”—which ends up being a Broad caricature of High.)

One blend which I have seen recently is Broad parishes introducing Low services with worship bands and such. The parish near our house does this as does the congregation where M is at the moment. Tellingly, these services tend to be 1) in two different spaces (it’d be really hard to do “authentic” Low in a sanctuary with riddel posts!) and 2) the congregations tend to be distinct with little cross-over. I’d suggest that Broad can go either way, but that you won’t—and probably shouldn’t—find a Low parish incorporating a High service and vice-versa. And this reality seems to undermine the irenicism Fr. Unterseher describes.

I do congratulate  Fr. Unterseher on achieving the diversity he has at his parish but this does not represent the norm in our church.

Liturgical Inequalities

Fr. Unterseher does acknowledge that his parish may be unusual (and I think it is) and further states that his parish understands all three of their services as equally valid expressions of worship:

Noticeably absent, however, is the divisive acrimony that often attends communities with multiple liturgical styles. Everybody knows that they are part of one parish, one church, one body. This is not the case in every Episcopal parish, and I won’t pretend that either the church as a whole or the parish doesn’t have fissures around some significant issues. But regarding the parish, I suspect that when it comes to worship, we’ve simply refused to buy into the posturing that so often seems to go along with issues of liturgical difference, and becomes so evident in conversations about liturgical reform. We refuse to suggest that one style is more “authentic” or more pleasing to God than another.

This statement warms my heart. If only this were so everywhere… The situation I’m familiar with where three services is the norm the inequalities are evident and sometimes even stated.

The early Rite I Mass is explicitly for the “old folks” and the assumption and hope is that this demographic and the service will die out together. I find the timing of the service to be the literally marginalizing issue here. It’s very difficult for me as a father to get myself and my girls ready and out the door for a 7:30 AM service. When I wake them up for it, I pay for it with cranky tired behavior later in the day. And yet—this is the service I’d rather attend at my current parish. If I do, then we have to go home and come back two hours later for Christian Ed. Why do few families show up at this service? In my context, at least, it’s because the logistics are torturous.

Interestingly enough when we went to the cathedral in Atlanta, there was a 9 AM Rite I service which led right into the Sunday School hour. The chapel where it was held was always full to bursting and I’d guess it was equally split been the expected “old folks” and families with small children. Despite the big Rite II choral Eucharist going on right across the hallway.

The evening service tends to be the one identified as perfect for children and families and (unlike Fr. Unterseher’s parish) has the “contemporary” music (of the ’80’s and 90’s). Despite this conception the demographic that seems to dig it the most is the Baby Boomers.

What I’m suggesting is that while some liturgical diversity may exist between early, middle, and evening services, not only do the groups tend to be distinct, but the early service with its Rite I language tends to be tolerated as a short-term inconvenience (although I note they’ve held on in most places for lo these thirty years giving the lie to the theory that only old folk like them).

The Breadth of Diversity: The Case of Morning Prayer

The third point I’d like to raise is breadth of diversity represented. It’s a little off-topic from the article itself, but I couldn’t help but notice it… All three of the services at the example parish are Eucharists. As a result, there’s a certain limitation of the true diversity of Anglican liturgy at that. In fact, it demonstrates the way that liturgical diversity has been flattened across the board since the release of the ’79 BCP.

I’m in hearty agreement with and very supportive of the norm laid down by the ’79 book: Holy Eucharist should be the principal act of worship in Episcopal parishes on Sundays and Holy Days. However, there’s no law that says that a parish can’t do both Morning Prayer and the Eucharist. From looking around the Episcopal Church you’d be excused from thinking that such a law is written in stone. One of the key treasures of the Anglican Patrimony has been effectively cut from the public worship experience of Episcopalians over the last thirty years.

A genuine and helpful move towards liturgical diversity would be the inclusion of a Morning Prayer service before the principal Eucharist on Sundays. But that’s not on the radar for 99% of the church.

The Roman and Episcopal Contexts

I don’t know that the Episcopal situation described here maps onto the situation that faces liturgical diversity in the Roman Church. The elephant in the middle of the room is the culture war.

Liturgy is all too often one wing in a broader battle, and outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible disposition. From my outsider’s view, the battle-lines seem to be much more firmly fixed within the Roman context than the Episcopal. That is, some of the most progressive churches I have attended have been High Church—St Luke in the Fields, NYC springs instantly to mind; some of the most conservative churches I have attended have been High Church—Mt. Calvary, Baltimore likewise appears. In the Episcopal Church, liturgical preference does not map directly onto the social and theological beliefs that tend to generate the true acrimony that liturgical wars appear to produce.

Of the admittedly small number of traditional liturgy Roman churches that I’ve visited, and from the discussions I frequent on the internet, traditional liturgy tends to travel with social and theological conservatism. I have not met a progressive Roman Catholic who is for traditional liturgy, the use of Latin, ad orientem celebration, and the usus antiquor.  These are seen as signs of the counter-revolutionaries who seek to depose Vatican II. I can, however, rattle of a list of progressive Episcopalians who favor all of these (with the recognition that our true usus antiquor is Rite I/the 1662 BCP rather than the Traditional Latin Mass…).

It is this cultural divide that makes me most wary of the picture that Fr. Unterseher paints. I need more convincing that the liturgical lines in the Roman Church are more fluid than they appear.

Summing Up

In summary, I think that Fr. Unterseher’s piece presents an idealized view of worship within the Episcopal Church. Charity in liturgical diversity is possible, but is unusual. First, finding actual diversity between parish services is rare. Second, parishes tend to self-select and identify with one style or another. As a result the diversity and charity tends not to have to happen. Third, I’m not clear that our situation maps onto the situation for which Fr. Unterseher is writing. Deeper cultural and social issues afflict liturgical change in the Roman Church in ways that they do not in ours.

There’s one more point that I must make though, and it involves my hopes for further posts at Pray Tell. Most clergy don’t have the liturgical knowledge or interest to make the diversity work—and that’s what Fr. Unterseher didn’t talk about (yet) and where I hope he goes in the future.

From just a quick look at his parish’s website, I notice that the worship page has a succinct explanation of what the Sarum Use is and an explanation of eastward celebration. There’s catechesis going on here! There’s teaching and explanation that 1) these differences in worship actually do exist and 2) there are real reasons why they are different—they are expressing something theologically.  That’s got to happen to make liturgical change, liturgical awareness and liturgical diversity work. I look forward to seeing more on this in the future!

An Antiphon for bls

So bls was asking for information on the antiphon “Hodie Christus Natus Est” used with the Magnificat on the Second Vespers of Christmas in the Roman liturgy as it appears in the Liber.

She was wondering about its antiquity. This piqued my interest, of course, so I thought I’d hop over to my favorite collection and check it out… Consulting the Winter volume of the Hartker Antiphonary (Cod. Sang. 390) I went to the folio for the Gospel Antiphon at Vespers and found the following:

As you’ll recall, scribes weren’t always picky about their line breaks… The “In Ev” in the upper right lets us know that the next line will be a piece used with the Gospel (Canticle); the red A in the left margin tells us that this line is an antiphon. Clearly this is not the antiphon we’re looking for, though.

Paging back, however, I ran across this:

Here we have the end of Lauds. The first line in this clip is the Gospel Canticle on the Benedictus which is the same as what’s in the Liber. That’s the end of Lauds proper—then we find our missing antiphon!

What we get are two antiphons here before we arrived at the antiphons used for the Little Hours during the day, the start of which is signaled by the “Ad Cursus” (For the Round of the Day) rubric at the bottom of the clip. These two antiphons are marked “Ad Crucem” which lead me to believe that it’s being used as part of the Common Commemoration to the Holy Cross. Typically these involve the use of an antiphon, a versicle and response and a concluding collect. This book tends to have them following Lauds and occasionally after Vespers. I’m not clear why there are two here, however…

Interestingly the Portiforium of St Wulstan from around the same time shares the Lauds antiphon but has a different Vespers antiphon (the “Lux orta” that the San Gall appoints for Prime, actually). The “Hodie Christus natus est” doesn’t appear in that book at all. Nor does it have antiphons for commemorations.

All of the English monastic breviaries studied at the Cursus Project use Hodie Christus natus est for the 2nd Vespers of Christmas with one fascinating exception. The Worcester Antiphoner uses the same 2nd Vespers Antiphon that we saw in the San Gall manuscript and the Hodie Christus natus est doesn’t appear until St Johns day where it is used as a Commemoration of the Nativity (Again, antiphon, versicle & response, then a collect—this time the one from Christmas).

The Sarum Breviary, following in the footsteps of the others uses the now standard Hodie Christus natus est.

So, that at least fills in a few points in regard to the history of this particular antiphon and its circulation in Northern Europe and England.

Monthly Psalms Cycle on Festivals

I’m a big fan of the monthly psalm cycle in the BCP. Those would be the headings that mention a day and “morning” or “evening” in the BCP Psalms. I  see it as a nice expansion of the point Benedict makes in RB 18.24-5 (paraphrasing here): If our holy Fathers could say all the psalms every day, at least we lazy monks can do it every week. By extension if the monks can do it every week, we distracted laity can certainly manage it once a month…

But what to do when we hit major festivals? Read the Psalms in course as usual or read something special—like switching to the psalms identified in the Daily Office lectionary? This question was brought to my mind again yesterday when I prayed the Morning Office for the Conception of the BVM from the breviary. It seemed rather ironic on the feast of a conception to read Ps 38 with the following lines:

For my loins are filled with a sore disease, *
and there is no whole part in my body.

Now, I’m the first to argue that we just need to let the cycles take their courses and to see what passages the Holy Spirit brings together through no deliberate will of our own—but, c’mon…

I’ve been reconsidering the answer suggested by the Order of the Holy Cross’s A Monastic Diurnal which uses a set festal psalter arrangement for first class feasts which it defines (pre-’79 remember) as the Feasts of Our Lord in sections 1 through 3 and a few major saints (though not all apostles). Their scheme looks like this:

First Vespers: Pss 96, 97, 98, 99, 148 [largely the YHWH MLK psalms]

Matins: Pss 24, 29, 72, 93, 100

Second Vespers: Pss 110, 111, 112, 113, 150

This has the additional bonus of giving a set number of 5 psalms for these offices, nicely matching up with the traditional number of psalm antiphons so all of them can be appreciated (when utilized).

What do you think?

The Pope on Medieval Monasticism

I could swear that Pope Benedict has been re-reading Leclercq’s Love of Learning and Desire for God.

A few weeks ago he talked about the Monastic/Scholastic distinction along similar lines as Leclercq; last week he compared and contrasted St Bernard with Abelard. Yesterday, his talk was on the glory that was Cluny.All of these are great—especially if you haven’t read Leclercq recently.

What the pope doesn’t get at in the last catechesis is one of the reasons I find Cluny so fascinating. In a very real sense, in the developed life of Cluny the liturgy overbalanced other aspects of the monastic life. Apparently, they could get too much of a good thing! I’d suggest that a central point of study in the development of monasticism and the place of liturgy in the regular Christian life consists of the conversation between what happened at Cluny and the rise of the Cistercians.

(The year I applied for a raft of academic jobs one of the seminars I dreamed up was a study of Cluny, the Carthusians, and the Cistercians as three separate ways of embodying the “pure monasticism” envisioned in John Cassian, then filtered through Benedict. I still want to do that…)

The way we consider and understand the relationship between Cluny and the Cistercians has consequences for how we (meaning here I in particular) wish to embellish the Prayer Book liturgies through catholic additions.

In light of this I felt myself quite challenged when I ran across a very similar thought in slightly different words a few months back in Thornton’s English Spirituality:

Both the Cistercian Reform and the English Reformation were movements towards primitive purity. In both cases the appeal is to an essential, workmanlike simplicity and against liturgical elaboration, against “medieval accretions” whether of Cluny or fifteenth century Catholicism. It is often said that the Prayer Book needs “enrichment”, which is a reasonable plea. But we must take care to avoid the errors of Cluny, which we failed to do, to take one example in the Offices of 1928 with their complicated list of alternatives.* The more recent liturgical movement follows the right pattern; away from Victorian Gothic, uselessly elaborate ceremonial, “fussiness”, towards Cistercian simplicity. It is Abelard not Bernard who more nearly represents the colorless puritanism of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It is in Abelard that we find the one-sided speculative strain without warmth and colour. Rightly or wrongly, we have sided with St Bernard, with the clear lines of English perpendicular against both Baroque and the whitewashed shed. (English Spirituality, 89)

* The alternatives in the Proposed 1928 English BCP are nothing compared to the American ’79 BCP.

Applied Liturgical Linguistics

Ok—we’ve got enough accomplished Latinists who read this site and who fall on different points of the theological/liturgical spectrum that this should lead to an interesting conversation… (And non-Latinists are quite welcome to play along too, of course!)

Here’s the question. Given this as a base text:

Supra quae propitio ac sereno vultu respicere digneris: et  accepta habere, sicuti accepta habere dignatus es munera pueri tui iusti Abel, et sacrificium Patriarchae nostri Abrahae, et quod tibi obtulit summus sacerdos tuus Melchisedech, sanctum sacrificium, immaculatam hostiam.

Supplices te rogamus, omnipotens Deus: iube haec perferri per manus sancti Angeli tui in sublime altare tuum, in conspectu divinae maiestatis tuae; ut, quotquot ex hac altaris participatione sacrosanctum Filii tui Corpus et Sanguinem sumpserimus, omni benedictione caelesti et gratia repleamur. (Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.)

please consider these three translations:

Option 1

Look with favour on these offerings and accept them as once you accepted the gifts of your servant Abel, the sacrifice of Abraham, our father in faith, and the bread and wine offered by your priest Melchisedech.

Almighty God, we pray that your angel may take this sacrifice to  your altar in heaven. Then, as we receive from this altar the  sacred body and blood of your Son, let us be filled with every grace and blessing. (Through Christ our Lord. Amen.)

Option 2

Be pleased to look upon them with serene and kindly countenance, and to accept them, as you were pleased to accept the gifts of your servant Abel the just, the sacrifice of Abraham, our father in faith, and the offering of your high priest Melchizedek, a holy sacrifice, a spotless victim.

In humble prayer we ask you, almighty God: command that these gifts be borne by the hands of your holy Angel to your altar on high in the sight of your divine majesty, so that all of us who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son may be filled with every grace and heavenly blessing.
[Through Christ our Lord. Amen.]

Option 3

Vouchsafe thou also, with a merciful and pleasant countenance, to have respect hereunto : and to accept the same, as thou didst vouchsafe to accept the gifts of thy righteous servant Abel, and the sacrifice of our patriarch Abraham, and the holy sacrifice, the undefiled host, that the high priest Melchisedek did offer unto thee.

We humbly beseech thee, O Almighty God, command thou these to be brought by the hands of thy holy Angel unto thy high Altar in the presence of thy Divine Majesty, that as many of us as of this partaking of the Altar shall receive thy Son’s holy Body and Blood may be replenished with all heavenly benediction and grace. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.

1. Which of the three best communicates the base text? Why?

2. Which of the three is the best form for English language liturgy? Why?

3. To what degree does being “literal” or “faithful” to a base text help or hurt a composition intended as a modern vernacular liturgy?

(And please note—nobody says your selections for questions 1 and 2 need be the same…)

Allez!

Breviary and Kalendar Observations

If you’re interested in the inner workings and shifts in the history of the breviary and associated liturgical bits, you must not miss the series that the NLM is running. Today’s hits a major point: the changes to the breviary under Pius X—the first major modern liturgical meddling.  Here’s a bit in particular from the discussion of the kalendar:

In the Middle Ages, there was no idea of a General Calendar of Saints’ days to be observed universally. To be sure, there were many feasts which were observed universally, such as the principal feasts of Our Lady and the Apostles, the four great doctors of the Latin Church, and several of the more famous early martyrs and confessors. However, there was an enormous amount of local variation to calendars, which were regulated by local bishops and cathedral chapters with almost no direction from Rome. For this reason, one also finds some interesting gaps in medieval liturgical calendars, especially in regard to “new” Saints. The first Saint ever formerly canonized by the Apostolic See, Ulric of Augsburg, was never celebrated with a feast day in Rome itself. Pope Gregory IX, who reigned from 1227 to 1241, canonized both St. Francis of Assisi and St. Dominic. Despite the tremendous importance of these two religious founders to the life of the later medieval Church, neither appears in the 1556 edition of the Sarum Breviary, or the 1501 Breviary of Bamberg, (to give just two examples); in many other places, they were kept as mere commemorations. The same Pope once called the great preacher and miracle worker Saint Anthony of Padua “the Ark of the Covenant” while the Saint himself was still alive, yet his feast is missing from many late medieval calendars, and indeed, is not included in the 1568 Roman Breviary.

The Use of Rome had already been adopted by the Franciscans at time of their foundation, and was spread by them far beyond the confines of the Pope’s diocese. The new orders of the Counter-Reformation era such as the Jesuits and Oratorians also followed the Roman Use, and it soon became the standard liturgical form for all new religious orders and congregations. The Pian reform of the Roman Breviary was also taken on by innumerable dioceses throughout Europe and the newly-evangelized Americas, creating a liturgical uniformity much greater than had been known before Trent . The Catholic Church of the Tridentine era was particularly concerned, of course, to lay greater emphasis on the cult of the Saints, which had been so thoroughly rejected by the Protestant Reformers, and to add to the ranks of the heavenly intercessors its own great heroes. Therefore, when Saints like Ignatius of Loyola and Philip Neri were canonized, their feasts were more or less universally and immediately adopted, unlike those of their great medieval predecessors.

None of this will come as a surprise to medievalists but rather informs us on when and how the late and new uniformity occurred. It also explains what I have discovered—that the current Roman kalendar is simply unsuited for modern Anglicans however Rome leaning—the main current of unformity occurs after our departure thus quite a large percentage of saints in the kalendar are not part of the common heritage.

An Open Letter to Bishop Alexander

is my latest piece up at the Cafe.

It’s a plea for the new hymnal—study for which was authorized by General Convention—to include a full complement of Office hymns, and to identify them as such. Too, it’s time for a new translation into contemporary English and I’m urging that, like the Prayer Book itself, these be released into the public domain.

We are the heirs of a long and profound liturgical tradition. We must remain good stewards of these riches.