Easter and the Book of Common Prayer

It is a commonplace amongst those of us fond of the church year to observe that Christmas is not one day but twelve. Well, let it be known that Easter is not one day, either; it is 50. Or 40, depending on whether Ascensiontide is Easter or not.

To emphasise the fact that we should be celebrating the glorious truth of the Resurrection of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ for more than a single day, I’m going to post some Easter-ish thoughts and what-have-you from the Great Tradition at least for the Easter Octave. Since it is the 350th anniversary of the 1662 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, here are some of the collects for this blessed Eastertide.

Easter Day:

Almighty God, who through thine only-begotten Son Jesus Christ hast overcome death, and opened unto us the gate of everlasting life: We humbly beseech thee, that as by thy special grace thou dost put into our minds good desires, so by thy continual help we may bring the same to good effect; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

If that one isn’t Eastery enough for you, Easter Day gets a second collect:

O God, who makest us glad with the yearly remembrance of the resurrection from the dead of thy only Son Jesus Christ: Grant that we who celebrate this Paschal feast may die daily unto sin, and live with him evermore in the glory of his endless life; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Octave Day of Easter — that is, the Sunday following — gives us this:

Almighty Father, who hast given thine only Son to die for our sins, and to rise again for our justification: Grant us so to put away the leaven of malice and wickedness, that we may alway serve thee in pureness of living and truth; through the merits of the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

These three collects, prayers to ‘collect’ the minds of the faithful gathered for worship, all have an ethical bent to them. There is no hint of cheap grace in Cranmer’s reformation and translation of the mediaeval sacramentaries. We recall the glorious redemption and justification wrought for us through Christ’s resurrection from the dead. And we ask that God would enable us to therefore and thereby live holy lives.

Sounds good to me.

Liturgical Translations

Tonight I began translating the Gelasian Sacramentary (a digitised version is here). Given that a. my current research is into sixth-century Greek & Syriac saints’ lives and b. my future research is into fifth-century papal correspondence, this project will take a while.

Nevertheless, I believe a translation of this sacramentary is a worthwhile and important object — and not only of this sacramentary but of the Leonine and Gregorian Sacramentaries as well. Why?

I’ve been thinking about the (New) Liturgical Movement — the move for modern liturgies that began in the 1960’s and has given us the Book of Alternative Services (BAS) for the Anglican Church of Canada, the Alternate Service Book and Common Worship for the Church of England, the Novus Ordo for Roman Catholics, similar liturgies for Lutherans (Book of Worship?), a host of prayer resources such as Celtic Daily Prayer or Celebrating Common Prayer, and a proliferation of liturgies for special occasions or individuals at the local church or small group level. And the Taizé office and music.

All of this is well and good, although sometimes I have my reservations about particular moments in the Liturgical Movement. One of the reservations I have is that sometimes the Liturgical Movement, like the evangelical equivalent of Contemporary Worship, does not drink deeply enough.

Edith M. Humphrey, before she became Eastern Orthodox, recommended that writers of new songs of worship begin by drawing on the Psalms. I would echo that, calling them also to immerse themselves in the old hymns both musically and textually for a while.

For the liturgists, an immersion in the Psalms would be helpful. Also helpful would be the vast resources of the ancient and mediaeval church. For the liturgical reformers of the fifteenth through seventeenth centuries, this was a real possibility. Men like Quignon, Luther, Cranmer, and the editors of the 1570 Roman Missal, all knew Latin and probably Greek as well.

This meant that as they sought to reform the liturgy, they had access to centuries of liturgical writing, and we can see that Cranmer certainly put this to good use in his famous Collects that draw heavily upon the Gelasian and Gregorian Sacramentaries and his daily office includes a prayer from the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom (which, incidentally, is also present in that of St. Basil the Great).

Today’s liturgists, be they clergy or worship leaders or diocesan committees or church-wide committees often lack this knowledge of obsolete languages. Thus, it is harder for them to drink deeply as did their forebears. One result is collects that aren’t even properly collects, for example (as lamented somewhere on Liturgy).

Accessible translations of ancient and mediaeval liturgical texts is a worthy endeavour. As you can see, I have already done some of this with the Mediaeval Wedding and the Mediaeval Vespers (both Sarum Use). More needs to be done, for although the Sarum Missal has been translated into English (here for the Mass, here for the book on Amazon), the Sarum Breviary has not (at least, not in its entirety).

I believe that translations of liturgical texts from the long and venerable tradition of western liturgy would be a blessing to the Liturgical Movement. What do you think?

A Great Cloud of Witnesses

On June 10, 2009, I published a post about our first weekly saint, St. Columba.  Since then, the list has grown considerably.  Most of them get the big ST, but not all.  The principle has been the examination of the lives and teachings of those who have gone before us.  Not all Christians of interest get the big ST.

We have looked at ancient, mediaeval, and post-mediaeval (‘modern’) Christians.  We have looked at Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Protestants, and one Ethiopian Orthodox.  Apostolic men stand alongside poets who shake hands with mystics and martyrs.  All of these people have lived lives for Christ, and I hope that all of them can help bring us nearer to Christ by their example and teaching.

My selection has sometimes been from the Church Calendar.  Sometimes it has started there, as with Edmund James Peck (see in the list) and then extended by association; following Peck I wrote about other missionaries to the Arctic.  Sometimes they are chosen because I am reading about them or studying their work.

Often, if you have been following these weekly saints, you will have noticed that I give a brief biography of the saint, but not always.  Sometimes I offer a meditation on some aspect of the saint’s life and teaching.  Sometimes I ponder how best we might be able to honour or learn from a particular saint.  I hope these have been a blessing and will continue to bless!  Enjoy!

There are no women.  This is too bad.  I should fix this.  I meant to St. Margaret, Queen of Scotland, when her feast rolled on by, but posted about no saint that week.  She and others shall make their way into the saints for 2011.  Here are the Weekly Saints thus far:

St. Joseph the Carpenter

Pope St. Leo the Great (here & here)

St. John of the Cross

St. Ambrose of Milan

St. Andrew the Apostle

St. Albert Lacombe

St. John the Baptist

St. Thomas the Apostle

St. Matthias the Apostle

St. Boniface

St. Augustine of Canterbury

St. Anthony of Padua

Emperor Constantine the Great

St. Athanasius

Dante Alighieri

St. George the Dragonslayer

George MacDonald

Thomas Cranmer

St. Cuthbert

St. Gregory of Nyssa

John Wesley (here & here)

St. Polycarp of Smyrna

St. Valentine

St. Antony the Great

St. Jean de Brebeuf

St. Francis of Assisi

Hans Egede

St. Juvenaly of Alaska

Edmund James Peck

St. John of Damascus

Abba Giyorgis Saglawi

St. Bernard of Clairvaux

St. Maximilian Kolbe

CS Lewis

St. Alban the Martyr

Sts. Peter and Paul

St. Basil the Great

St. Columba

Happy Bible Sunday!

In the days of one united Prayer Book and lectionary, Anglican circles called this Sunday, the Second of Advent, “Bible Sunday” because of the Collect:

Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ.  Amen.

The epistle reading is similarly Bible-focussed: Romans 15:4-13.

We would do well to pray this collect over and over again, for, like many of Cranmer’s little masterpieces,* it is a sermon unto itself.  We learn first (regarding the Bible; no doubt an entire homily could be preached on “Blessed Lord”):

  • God caused all holy Scriptures to be written

This alone is to give us pause when we recall some of the things we hear, such as that the NT writers were choosy in their selection and not everything in them is historically true.  Like the Virgin Birth.  Or the Resurrection.  Or the very idea of Jesus being God-in-flesh.  If God caused all holy Scriptures to be written, then we should take these passages and doctrines very seriously before moving on to:

  • written for our learning

The purpose of this writing of Scripture was our learning.  The Bible is there to teach us.  We are to learn from it.  How?  Cranmer shows us next:

  • hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them

The Word of God is to be proclaimed and read aloud.  I believe this applies even to today when most of the population is literate.  The spoken word, as an action, has force and power different from the printed word.**  We are also to read it ourselves, though.  Sunday morning is not enough; our involvement with the Scriptures is to be personal.  As we read the words of life, we are also called to mark them, learn them, and inwardly digest them.

That last phrase, “inwardly digest them,” is among my favourite Prayer-Book phrases.  As we study the Scriptures, we aren’t just supposed to observe them critically as we would the Aeneid or the Tome of Leo.  We are to digest them.  They are to enter into our very being and become part of us.  This is a very dynamic, very physical image.  And what is the result of our intimate acquaintance with the Scriptures?

  • by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life

The Scriptures give us patience — endurance through suffering — and comfort — strength.  Through this endurance and this strength, we come to a place where we are able to embrace — again, a very personal verb — and hold fast — imagine someone holding onto a rope so as not to fall into a chasm — the blessed hope of everlasting life.

The Christian hope is not simply the hope of a better world, the hope of temporal joy, the hope of moral improvement but the hope of eternity for those who put their trust in Jesus, in God, Whose character is displayed to us on the pages of the Bible.

And whence does our hope come?

  • our Saviour Jesus Christ

The Christocentrism of Reformational thought (I acknowledge that there was/is much Christocentrism in Catholic thought; I am not speaking of Catholics, though) comes forth.  Our hope of eternity comes from Jesus.  Cling to him whom we have found in the pages of the Scriptures and we cling to our hope, we cling to eternity and escape from death.  This is a good thing.

So we should all read our Bibles, and read them carefully, so that we can come to know better the God who saves us through Jesus Christ and be transformed and cling to the hope of everlasting life.

*I hereby acknowledge Archbp. Thomas Cranmer’s debt to the Gelasian and Gregorian Sacramentaries.  Part of his genius was in selection and translation, part in adaptation of the tradition, part in original composition.

**My own adaptation of Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy.

Tap into the Tradition: The Remedy for “Matthewism”

As may be known, I have a habit of listening to Ancient Faith Radio and reading Eastern Orthodox books (the most recent being Being As Communion).  The Eastern Orthodox are a voice worth listening to, and one of the main reasons they are worth listening to is because they, in turn, listen to the Fathers.  They are, thus, deeply traditional, preserving that which has been handed down to them.

Frederica Mathewes-Green, one of the many Orthodox converts on Ancient Faith Radio, says:

I realized that my selections [in my spiritual life] were inevitably conditioned by my own tastes, prejudices, and blind spots. I was patching together a Frankenstein God in my own image, and it would never be taller than five foot one. (Quoted here.)

This is the Christianised version of the religion cited by Miroslav Volf in Exclusion and Embrace of “Sheilaism” — whatever you feel like believing, however you feel like worshipping, however you feel like living is what comprises your worldview, religion, and lifestyle.

What Mathewes-Green discovered in Orthodoxy was the corrective of tradition.  We all have our idiosyncrasies that we bring to how we think and live, and as Christians we have them when we approach Scripture and worship.  Tradition is the accumulation of what has been handed down from the Apostles and generally approved of in each generation.  It challenges our presuppositions and idiosyncrasies, sometimes very uncomfortably, but when entered into prayerfully, the Spirit will use it to conform us more and more into the image of Christ rather than the accumulation of stuff and culture and self that we bring with us to begin with.

I decided that, while Orthodoxy is interesting and all, I already have a tradition of my own, and it sprang up in England around 596 with the arrival of St. Augustine of Canterbury.  To ensure that I actually am part of this tradition, I recently re-read the 39 Articles of Religion, and I find myself in agreement with them.  So, besides reading the 39 Articles, what am I to do to engage with the Anglican tradition in all its richness?

1.  I have decided to plug into the Book of Common Prayer more frequently, using Morning & Evening Prayer and Compline, but also on occasion the Anglican Society of Saint Francis’ Celebrating Common Prayer for the divine office.  The daily office is an important part of traditional English spirituality.  It is a way to pray to and draw near to God while at the same time joining with believers within the tradition throughout the world and throughout time.

2.  I want to read the classics of the Anglican moral/ethical tradition.  This will first mean finishing off William Law’s Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, but moving on to Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living and John Wesley’s Plain Account of Christian Perfection.  This aspect of the tradition includes both virtuous living and the call to social justice, both of which are part of the endless movement towards holiness and perfection (on this endless movement, see St. Gregory of Nyssa).

3.  The Anglican tradition also includes the English Reformers, so the Book of Homilies and Richard Hooker at large are to be part of my long-range plan, as is Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.

4.  The Anglican tradition has a large component of hymnody worth exploring, and since I have 3 copies of Canada’s 1938 Hymn Book, I am well-prepared for this angle.  Alongside hymnody are the poets — Donne, Herbert, et al.

5. The pre-Reformation English tradition, from St. Augustine of Canterbury to the Venerable Bede to St. Anselm to Lady Julian of Norwich and more is part of the tradition as well.  I think a study of the mediaeval roots of “Reformation” thought would be a worthy activity.  Despite the arguments over the date of Easter and monasticism, mediaeval English Christianity tried to adapt local Celtic customs as part of their own, thus making “Celtic” Christianity also fair game.

6.  Patristics is fair game, being the root of much mediaeval Christian thought as well as much Reformation thought.  The Fathers are the Fathers of all Christendom, not just the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox bits.

7.  The theologians other than the Reformers, up to the present day.  The emphasis on Tradition means that, while I should probably grapple with the likes of Spong, Ingham, and more, my emphasis should fall on the Wesleys, the Anglo-Catholics/Oxford Movement, C.S. Lewis, N.T. Wright, J.I. Packer, John Stott, and their ilk.

The above should probably last me until I’m dead.  Re those within Anglicanism who are divergent voices of dissent who attack and judge the tradition, I believe that the way to approach them is to look at them through the lens of the tradition, taking those bits that fall beyond the bounds of Scripture, the Creeds, and the 39 Articles, and providing cogent, reasonable, biblical, and traditional critique.

What about your tradition?  What are the roots and classic writings of Baptists, Mennonites, the Christian Reformed Church, Roman Catholicism, Pentecostalism?  With these in one hand, the Bible in the other, large doses of prayer, and the enlivening of the Holy Spirit, we should be more clearly drawn towards the image of the likeness of Christ than when our own idiosyncrasies take control as we read our Bibles all alone in our rooms.  Oh, also, take along a worshipping ecclesial community for the journey.  God will use them to shape you mightily as well.

Saint of the Week: Thomas Cranmer

Cranmer was to be last week’s saint, since his memorial was on Wednesday, March 24. But I kept doing other things in the evening and reading systematic theology during my spare time at work.

Thomas Cranmer was born July 2, 1489, and was burned at the stake on March 21, 1556. He studied at Jesus College, Cambridge, receiving a Master of Arts in 1515 having received a classical education in his Bachelor’s degree but focussing on Continental humanists, including Erasmus, in his Master’s degree. He was also a lifelong collector of books by the mediaeval Scholastics. In 1526 he received his Doctorate of Divinity.

Throughout the 1520s, he was involved in the intellectual discussion and dispersion of Lutheran ideals and ideas amongst the scholars of Cambridge.  In 1526, he entered the King’s service on an embassy to Spain, and in 1527 put his able hand to the task of annulling Henry VIII’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon.

In 1531, while Cranmer was still working on the annulment with some other scholars who were instrumental in finalising the ideas involved in 1534’s Act of Supremacy, he met Simon Grynaeus, a Swiss humanist and Zwinglian.  Grynaeus and Cranmer were to become friends, thus strengthening Cranmer’s later relationship with the Swiss and Strasbourg reformers.

1532 marked Thomas Cranmer’s presence in the Holy Roman Empire as ambassador.  In Germany he saw firsthand the Protestant Reformation in action.  During his time in the German court of Charles V, Thomas Cranmer moved further into the Lutheran camp.  In October of this same year, Thomas Cranmer received a letter appointing him Archbishop of Canterbury, due no doubt to his work on the King’s annulment, given how few ecclesiastical positions he had yet held.

Nevertheless, despite opposition from various parties in England, Cranmer sought to spread Reformation ideals in the English church, especially after 1534.  In the following years of Henry’s reign, the work of Reform moved slowly in England, although Cranmer appointed reformers such as Hugh Latimer to important positions, and the King commissioned the Great Bible.

The spread of worship in English, however, was not moving apace until Edward VI’s reign when the people would receive the sacrament in an English service.  Nonetheless, at this time Cranmer produced an English translation of the Litany in 1544.  This Litany includes prayers for God to deliver His people from “the tyranny of the bisshop of Rome and all his detestable enormyties”.

In 1547, Henry VIII died and was succeeded by his nine-year-old son Edward VI.  Now worship in the vernacular was able to take off.  The first liturgical text produced by Thomas Cranmer was the Litany,  with the publishing of the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549.  This was followed by a second Prayer Book of 1552.

Thomas Cranmer also worked to produce a Book of Homilies (the present form also has homilies of John Jewel [15222-1571]) in accord with Reformation teaching for use in churches to instruct the people on various subjects such as reading the Bible, how to gain salvation, against whoredom, and the like.  This Book of Homilies was not approved by the Bishops until 1547.

The Reformation was able to spread during Edward’s reign through the media of the Book of Homilies, the Book of Common Prayer, and the English Bible.

And then in 1553, Edward VI, a sickly teenager, died.  His older sister Mary succeeded him.  Mary was a Roman Catholic.  Under her reign, the Reforms of Edward were suppressed and the Church of England returned to communion with the Church of Rome.  The tables were turned, as any reader of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs knows — no more Carthusian abbots were drawn and quartered in London’s streets.  Instead, the Protestants were to feel the flames of the stake.

Thomas Cranmer had, during Henry’s reign, come to the belief that the monarch was the rightful head of the church, and that it was contrary to his role as a bishop to counter the monarch’s headship — hence the lack of a BCP under Henry, who was not in the Reformation for religious but economic, political, and legal reasons.  Finding himself under a Catholic monarch, Thomas Cranmer was in a bit of a sticky position.

On March 20, 1556, Thomas Cranmer watched in Oxford as Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley were burned at the stake for heresy.  He proceeded to sign fourteen copies of his recantation of the heresies of Martin Luther with some Spanish friars standing by.

On March 21, Cranmer was escorted to St. Mary’s Church where his public recantation was to take place.  And there, Thomas Cranmer, like Latimer and Ridley before him, played the man, declaring, “And as for the Pope, I refuse him as Christ’s enemy and anti-Christ, with all his false doctrine.  And as for the sacrament–”  Here Cranmer was interrupted and taken away to be burned.

As Cranmer burned, he thrust his right hand into the flames, holding there and saying, “This hand hath offended,” for that hand had signed his recantations.  And so Thomas Cranmer, crafter of the Book of Common Prayer passed from this life to the next.

His greatest contribution of all time was no doubt the BCP.  Tune in sometime after Easter for some thoughts on its awesomeness.

Saint of the Week: C.S. Lewis

Having given you two Apostles, a martyr, an early mediaeval Celt, and an Eastern Father, I felt that it was time to give you a Protestant.  My favourites are Thomas Cranmer, John Wesley (I think), and C.S. Lewis.  The first two have feasts in the BCP calendar, so I’ve chosen the last for this week.

Dr. Lewis has been much discussed, of course, both in Christian circles and in literary ones.  What can I say that will help you see him better or read him more?  Very little, I imagine.

In grade 10, I wrote an essay about C.S. Lewis as my hero.  I’m not going to reproduce that entity, but here are some reasons why C.S. Lewis is one of my favourite Protestants:

There is something to be loved in a non-Classicist (or anyone, really) who has read St. Athanasius’ De Incarnatione in Greek and proclaimed it, “As readable as Xenophon.”  (See his “Introduction” to the same).  Lewis was a scholar who knew lots of stuff.  In fact, he was a scholar of Mediaeval and Renaissance English literature (hence his works The Allegory of Love and A Preface to Paradise Lost).  Nevertheless, he had skills and knowledge beyond his own field.  He knew Latin and Greek, and Italian (I think).  He read more than simply Mediaeval and Renaissance English literature and the scholarship surrounding it.  And when he read theology, he didn’t limit himself to the outpourings of the 19th and 20th centuries or even to his own language.

He had a deep respect for the ancient.

He knew reason and logic, as seen in his analysis of the rationality of miracles and the supernatural in Miracles or in his lucid explanations of Christianity in Mere Christianity.  He had been an atheist, but at some point (1930?), due to his long, reasoned conversations with friends (such as Dr. J.R.R. Tolkien) became a Christian — reluctantly, for Galilean fishermen hold little allure for men steeped in the glories of mediaeval literature.  Once convinced of the reality of the Christian Gospel, he gave himself over to it and its defence (see the essays in God in the Dock).

He knew the poetic.  He wrote poetry, some of it even in Greek metres.  He wrote the flashingly brilliant prose of his Space (or Cosmic) Trilogy, as in the vision of the Divine in Perelandra.  Indeed, here we see also that, although he was acquainted with reason and logic, he did not limit himself to these two modes of operation.  He took in the poetic and likely even the mystical and seemed to revel in it.

He knew grief (see A Grief Observed, much more heartening for the grieving than the cool logic of The Problem of Pain).

If we return to him as a scholar, the fact that he wrote books about his discipline (others not mentioned being Studies in Words, An Experiment in Criticism, The Discarded Image) and loved it did not prevent him from writing about matters theological (as in Fern-Seed and Elephants, The Abolition of Man) nor from writing more literature for others to read (The Chronicles of Narnia, the Cosmic Trilogy, Till We Have Faces) and creatures in between theology and “literature” (The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce).

That last paragraph reflects the sort of scholar I want to be.

Also, he saw why to avoid Prayer Book revision — we are too divided theologically and have no one with the brilliant synthesising mind of Thomas Cranmer (Prayer: Letters to Malcolm).  This last point is one that rings clearly to me as an Anglican living on the other side of the liturgical “renewal” of the sixties and seventies.

How could I not admire this prolific writer and Christian man?  If there were more C.S. Lewises, the world would be a brighter place.