"At the heart of catechesis we find, in essence, a Person, the Person of Jesus of Nazareth, the only Son from the Father…"  To catechize is "to reveal in the Person of Christ the whole of God's eternal design reaching fulfillment in that Person.  It is to seek to understand the meaning of Christ's actions and words and of the signs worked by him."  Catechesis aims at putting "people…in communion…with Jesus Christ: only he can lead us to the Father in the Spirit and make us share in the life of the Holy Trinity (426)."

If, as we read in the CCC,  "At the heart of catechesis [is] Christ," how can one ever think that a minimalistic presentation is better?  This is not to say, as I stated above, that the Prayer Book catechism is wrong.  On the contrary, it is a commendable, very basic catechism, one that is a stellar tool for the teaching of children.  Unfortunately, there is nothing beyond this rudimentary presentation of Christ readily accessible for the "Prayer Book Catholic" crowd.  Anecdotally, I remember when I first entered the Anglican tradition I was instructed by my priest to read the CCC, but to ignore the Papal claims definitely, and the Marian teachings if I so desired.  This demonstrates the understanding that even among committed Anglicans there is a recognition of a deficiency in the Prayer Book catechism for an in depth understanding of the teachings of the Church.  It also demostrates the necessity of our embracing of the Holy Father's provision provided in Anglicanorum Coetibus.  Because, if it is our primary responsibility to shepherd our people toward the fold of Christ, do we not need to pass through the most fertile field?  It seems quite obvious the the richest sustenance is to be found in the CCC — and that in its entirety.

In catechesis "Christ, the Incarnate Word and Son of God,…is taught – everything else is taught with reference to him – and it is Christ alone who teaches…(427)"

The thing that stood out to me the most was the manner in which the liturgy was not "user friendly". We were able to follow along and make many of the responses by memory because of the similarity to the Prayer Book and the Anglican Missal (though we used much older English), but there was no clearly written out liturgy to follow. Yes, there was a book in the pew that I took for a missalette but it was impossible to figure out what page to be on at any point in time. No one leaned over and told us the page they were on, nor was there a guide in the bulletin to tell us how to follow. We got along just fine, but if there had been another visitor who did not know what was going on, he would have been totally lost. This tiny little parish rarely has visitors, and if they ever do it likely is not someone who is new to the liturgy, so I do not fault them for not being used to having newcomers in the pews with them. The priest introduced us with a very gracious comment about Anglicanorum Coetibus and our process of reception into the Church, but that was after the service; during the Mass no one knew who we were.

At the ACA Cathedral in Orlando, where we attended a few months ago, the liturgy was clearly outlined in a handout that was explicitly easy to follow. I acknowledge and greatly support the idea that "wonderful things do not come easy" and that we have to learn them. The visitors should be given the impression that the liturgy is somewhat difficult and that it is worth it to take the time to learn how to "do the dance steps". It is like learning to ride a bike; it is uncomfortable and even a bit scary at first, but after much practice it comes naturally. I agree completely, and have no contentions about this. Yet, we should also be showing the visitors that the congregation is ready, willing and able to help them through it. To come alongside and guide a novice is part of showing brotherly love.

As the Ordinariates become established, it is likely that there will be many visitors who are coming just to "check out this new thing" and they will never show up a second time. Yet, there will also be visitors who will end up being hooked in and later convert. How they are received by the parish members and what assistance they are given will often make or break their decision to return. So then, this is not a criticism or an admonition. Rather, it is a question. How do you (as clergy or laity) work to help the visitor know that the liturgy is not impossible and that he will be helped through it? I am seeking honest examples from many different sources. Is there a plan for it, or does it usually just happen "on the fly" when a visitor shows up? Input, please!

* * *

Andrew Burnham, Heaven & Earth in Little Space: The Re-enchantment of Liturgy, Canterbury Press, Norwich, 2010

There are many books on the development of liturgy in which the discussion is principally about what is happening within one liturgical tradition while taking into account influences from other traditions.  This is not one of them.  What we have here is an absorbing discussion on contemporary developments in liturgy and their interplay between the Catholic Church and the Church of England.

To do this, the author Andrew Burnham, Bishop of Ebbsfleet (Anglican), takes us back to the way in which liturgy developed in England during the Reformation and why.  With all of the objectivity of the scholar that he is, and employing an engaging literary style, Burnham is able to navigate the reader through the turbulent waters of the English Reformation, the troubled waters of post Vatican II liturgy, and onward into the exciting possibilities opened up by Pope Benedict’s Apostolic Constitution, Anglicanorum coetibus. This is a book which will appeal to both scholars and laypersons.

Critics in both the Anglican Communion and the Catholic Church complain about the coarsening of much of modern liturgy, its banality, the over emphasis upon the ‘community’ at the expense of a sense of participation in the transcendent worship in the heavenly sanctuary, and its slavery to now dated 1970s experiments in ‘creative’ liturgy.  Many have voted with their feet and refuse to attend liturgical celebrations, especially those that have been ‘manufactured’ to attract the people.

In subtitling his book, “The Re-enchantment of Liturgy”, Andrew Burnham signals his purpose which is no less than to sketch out newer approaches to liturgical renewal which, drawing upon the best of the Church’s liturgical treasury, may assist worshippers to engage more fully in the transforming worship of heaven.  There is a pressing need, he argues, to find the way out of contemporary liturgical banality in order to rediscover “something of the mysterium tremens et fascinans” of what the sacred liturgy, at its best, can truly express.  Traumatic ruptures in the liturgical tradition, as distinct from organic development, has not served the Spiritual interests and needs of the People of God.

Burnham begins his task with a scrupulously honest evaluation of what happened to the liturgy in the Church of England at the Reformation.  He freely acknowledges that the traditional Anglican formularies of the Book of Common Prayer of 1662 (and to a greater and lesser extent the Prayer books of 1549, 1552, and 1559) seem patient of either a more Catholic interpretation or a more Protestant interpretation.  The rupture in the Catholic liturgical tradition engineered by Thomas Cranmer resulted in “a maddening ambiguity at the heart of Anglican Eucharistic theology.”

The differing Anglican Eucharistic theologies have become institutionalised in the Book of Common Worship which provides a variety of Eucharistic Prayers to meet the differing theological beliefs of different congregations.

Next Burnham turns his attention to what happened in the Catholic Church following the introduction of the Novus Ordo of Paul VI, and what is happening in the Church following the promulgation of the Motu Proprio of Pope Benedict XVI, Summorum pontificum (2007).  And, of course, full account is taken of Liturgicam authenticam (2001) with the resulting and soon to be published new English translation of the Mass.  Questions here are raised about the Catholic Church’s relative inexperience with vernacular liturgy as compared to the 500 years experience of the Church of England which allowed a sacral vernacular language to emerge.  Burnham takes seriously the possibility of how one Form of the Mass, the Ordinary Form or the Extraordinary Form, may influence the other.  As an example he suggests the replacement of the Offertory Prayers in the Novus Ordo with those from the Missal of Blessed John XXIII thereby recovering in its fullest expression the true doctrine of the Sacrifice of the Mass for the Novus Ordo.

In his lengthy discussion of Church music Burnham displays all of the acumen of one who has authority to speak in this important area of liturgical worship.  He correctly points out that hymnody has had a powerful influence on Anglican consciousness, with hymns providing a teaching modality as well as beauty in the worship of God.  Much Catholic Eucharistic theology is disclosed in well known and well loved traditional Anglican hymns.  The practical loss of these traditional hymns with their replacement by often very unworthy contemporary alternatives has eviscerated much of the Anglo-Catholic legacy of traditional Eucharistic understanding and worship.  In many ways, what was in Anglican hymns made up for what was, from a Catholic point of view, lacking in the Service of Holy Communion in the BCP of 1662.

Burnham’s discussion on the liturgical forms of Morning and Evening Prayer, and other Offices, is carried out in its dialectical relationship between the Catholic breviaries in their various amended forms, and the forms devised by Thomas Cranmer.  He carries that kind of discussion on into the contemporary revisions of the Church of England and the new Breviary now in use in the Catholic Church.

In this book Burnham does both Anglicans and Catholics a major service in explaining the ways in which Church of England liturgies changed at the Reformation, what were the factors at play which influenced the radical rupture the Eucharistic liturgy, and the importance of the ongoing process of change in the twentieth and twenty first centuries.  Burnham, while clearly Catholic in his understanding of liturgy, is nevertheless able to present in an objective and dispassionate way alternative views which are more widely accepted by Anglicans.

Importantly, Bishop Burnham also makes clear what is meant by the classic Anglican Patrimony which can suitably be retained and incorporated into the Catholic liturgical tradition, thereby enriching the tradition.

This book provides readers with a profound understanding of liturgical developments in both the Church of England and the Catholic Church, and the manifest shortcomings of much contemporary liturgical worship both Eucharistic and non-Eucharistic.  Usefully, the book goes on to suggest ways in which liturgy may not only be renewed in the light of tradition, but also re-enchanted such that active participation in the Eucharist will enable the believer to really experiences something of the sublime reality of heaven.

In concluding with a chapter on St Mary the Virgin Mother of God, the Bishop makes the traditional Catholic link between the meeting of heaven and earth in the womb of the Virgin Mary, and the meeting of heaven and earth on our altars as bread and wine are transubstantiated into the Body and Blood of Christ.

* * *

Heaven and Earth in Little Space is published by Canterbury Press with a Foreword by Fr Aidan Nichols OP and an introduction by Fr Jonathan Baker SSC, Principal of Pusey House, Oxford and also a member of the Council of Forward in Faith.  Full details of how to order it, and how to take advantage of a generous discount on the recommended price, can be found here.

TO ORDER with a 20% discount please quote code Space 2010.
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* * *

How would you define an Anglo-Catholic?

The Church of England contains many varieties of Christians. Those who are nearer to the Catholic understanding of Scripture, Tradition and the Church, and who express this in their language (speaking, for instance, of the Altar, rather than the Holy Table) and their practice (celebrating the Eucharist regularly and frequently, in many churches not simply every week, but every day) would be called ‘Anglo-Catholic’.

You have been an Anglican bishop for the past fifteen years. What has been your role as a ‘flying bishop’?

In 1992 the central Council of our Church, the General Synod, decided that women might be ordained to the priesthood. In doing so it also said that those who did not accept this innovation must have provision made for them to enable them to continue as faithful Anglicans. For this purpose each Archbishop (there are two in England) consecrated one or two bishops, themselves opposed to women’s ordination, to minister to individuals and congregations who voted to ask for such extra provision. They were suffragans of the Archbishops, and so known as Provincial Episcopal Visitors (PEV’s) or, colloquially, ‘flying bishops’. My remit, for six years from 1995-2001, was to travel the length and breadth of the Eastern half of the Canterbury Province. I was consecrated to the See of Richborough – a title taken from the site where St Augustine set foot in England on his mission from Pope Gregory. On my retirement I became simply a super-numerary and honorary bishop in the diocese where I live, Winchester. My successor as Bishop of Richborough is Bishop Keith Newton.

Did the creation by Pope Benedict XVI of new Personal Ordinariates for Anglicans who wish to enter full communion with the Catholic Church come as a surprise for you?

The Holy Father’s initiative, directed at Groups of Anglicans, came as a great and very welcome surprise.

Many people ask “why now?” If Anglo-Catholics wish to seek communion with the See of Rome, why have they waited until now? Is it just a matter of women bishops or something deeper?

Many of us have believed that the Church of England was moving, for the past century at least, in an ever more catholic direction. With the international conversations between the Anglican Communion and Rome (the ARCIC Conversations) we believed and hoped there would be corporate reunion for us in our lifetime. Since the ordination of women to the priesthood, and now the likelihood of their consecration as bishops, that has faded as an impossible dream.

What are the main elements of the Anglican Patrimony you would like the Ordinariates to preserve?

Our fathers in the faith spoke of “reserve” in matters of faith. That is, a sort of quiet and simple spirit in the best of Anglican use. It has seemed to me a religious voice, a tone, in keeping with our national character. The language of our Prayer Book which introduced the vernacular into our worship five centuries ago seems to catch something of this plain, undemonstrative but deeply felt religious sensibility. But in truth, I think we cannot discover our Patrimony until we see it in a completely Catholic context.

Do you expect the Anglican Ordinariates to attract many people in England and Wales? Will whole parishes take the plunge?

It is difficult at present to see how it will be possible for entire parishes to join the Ordinariate, simply because the Church of England is very territorial, and will not readily part with, for instance, its buildings. For all that, there are several priests I know who are preparing their congregations, and who will take the first opportunity of belonging whether they can retain their parish churches or not.

Do you believe some Anglican Bishops will enter the Ordinariates? Are you personally planning to avail yourself of this opportunity?

Certainly I know of several Bishops who are exploring the possibility, as I am myself. I can see no other future for catholics in the Church of England than this.

Would you be willing to seek ordination in the Roman Catholic Church? Would you consider ordination or whatever your role is in the Ordinariate a denial of your pastoral work in the Anglican Communion or rather a culmination of that work?

Because the Holy Father’s appeal is to Groups of Anglicans, I believe my personal future is unimportant compared with what is offered to us all. If it is decided that my ministry can continue, and that I may be ordained a Priest in the Catholic Church, then I should be delighted – but I should join the Ordinariate unconditionally, and let others decide whether there might still be something for me to undertake. I am sure that the simple fact of joining the Ordinariate will be the crown and completion of my ministry up to this point.

What are the main difficulties you envisage in this adventure, both for yourself and for most Anglo-Catholics? Will the need to accept the faith of the Roman Catholic Church as proclaimed by the Catechism be an obstacle for many Anglo-Catholics?

I think for some Anglicans there are stumbling blocks within the Catechism. We have been separated from the Catholic mainstream for five hundred years, and there have been developments in doctrine with which we are unfamiliar. As a frequent visitor to Fatima, I have no difficulty with the Marian dogmas. There was a time when I found it hard to accept the Immaculate Conception (for I did not properly understand it) and Papal Infallibility. Others may still find these to be difficulties for them – I do not. And I hope and believe the Church will be very understanding and patient in explaining these matters. Far more important for me is the readiness of the Holy Father to accept and ordain men who have been married Anglican clergy. My wife has been a great help and adornment to my ministry, and I am glad there is the possibility that, should I be ordained a Catholic priest, this would continue.

Some members of the Ordinariates will come from the Anglican Communion, while others will come from different groups, such as the Traditional Anglican Communion, or even from Anglican Use parishes? Do you think that diversity will be a problem?

I believe that Anglicans in North America and elsewhere have been in such difficult situations that for them actual schism from the Anglican Communion has been necessary. I know several such priests and parishes, and have no doubt that we shall learn from one another and come to value one another. One of my greatest friends is a Priest of the Anglican Use in Texas, and I think he and I have more in common than I do with most of those in England who call themselves members of our church.

Do the Anglican Ordinariates have a future in the Catholic Church? How do you envisage them in, say, one hundred years?

I believe the Catholic Church is very patient; and I am sure she will want to learn from this experiment. I hope, personally, that the experience of a married priesthood might at some future date enable the Church to recognise that it is possible to have a double vocation, to the priesthood and to holy matrimony. I am greatly impressed by the way the Holy Father has introduced Anglicanorum Coetibus, making it clear that this is not a short-term solution to present-day problems, but a generous open offer for many years, perhaps centuries, to come. So who knows, it may be that eventually the Church of England will indeed return to her roots and become part of the One, Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church which she has always claimed to be.

How will the leaving (maybe we might say expelling) of Anglo-Catholics affect the Anglican Communion? Would it mean the end of its claim to be a branch of the Catholic Church? Do you expect the Anglican Communion to change much in the following years or decades?

It seems to me we are witnessing the break-up of the Anglican Communion – which was always a rather anomalous fruit of Empire. Gradually individual national churches will, I think, either join the Catholic Church, or dwindle into some amorphous protestant body, incapable of making any real witness to society.

What will the Roman Catholic Church gain by the ‘coming home’ of the Anglo-Catholics?

I hope we shall all gain enormously from this home-coming; it will be a reunion of friends, to replace the Parting of Friends of which Newman spoke.

How is Card. Newman regarded by Anglo-Catholics? Will you attend his beatification in September? Would you like to see him as one of the patron saints of the Ordinariates?

I believe John Henry Cardinal Newman has had a hand in what is happening in England today. Many of us are very glad to have him as a fellow-countryman. If I were permitted to be at his beatification I can think of no greater honour; and whether or not he is named as a patron of the Ordinariates, I am sure we should all be seeking his prayers at this wonderful time.

And in this post, he wrestles with the commemoration of Saint Thomas More in the Prayer Book.  It's a most interesting post by a young Canterbury Anglican.

* * *

On this rationale, Thomas More must be understood as included in our calendars because his life “reflected the mystery of Christ” and “inspired the reverent wonder of another time and place”. I have no difficulty in so accepting his commemoration. But what am I to do when I find simultaneously in our calendar the commemoration of Archbishop Thomas Cranmer on March 21 (the date on which he was burned at the stake in 1556, following the ascendance of Mary Tudor to the throne and the restoration of communion with Rome) — the same Cranmer who was the architect of Henry VIII’s first divorce, as well as of the Book of Common Prayer, and who was at least passively content for Thomas More, like hundreds of others who rejected the “new religion”, to be killed. He went to his own death repudiating the pope as “Christ’s enemy, and Antichrist”. And him, too, we commemorate as one whose life “reflected the mystery of Christ”.

The obvious problem is that these men died for two different faiths. Both were, of course, Christians. But what each understood Christianity to entail was rather different. Is it therefore appropriate for both to be commemorated in our calendar? Must we not choose which one was right? The issue is addressed, with specific reference to More and Cranmer, in Michael Perham’s The Communion of Saints (Alcuin Club Collections 62, 1980):

The action of those who appear to promote division must be looked at in terms of their integrity. Did they honestly believe themselves to be doing God’s will? Were they trying to conform to the divine plan? If they were, they were men of integrity and as such they were in a right relationship with God. And Christian sanctity belongs to the man in the right relationship rather than to the man with the right views. It is because of this emphasis on integrity that a calendar of saints can include two men who very fundamentally disagreed. Sometimes it is clear to us, in the light of history, which was right. Sometimes it is not. But even where it is, we are not by that prevented from honouring as a saint the one who was wrong, providing that his relationship with God was a right one. It is this attitude which allows us to consider the inclusion in the calendar of both Thomas Cranmer and Thomas More. The same attitude allowed the English church to recognize as saints both Wilfrid and Chad, who did not see eye to eye at all (pp. 116-17).

What then is the mark of a true saint? Perham continues:

There has to have been about the life of the saint an attractiveness, a sort of magnetic pull, that made people feel that here was a life lived close to God – increasingly close as it went on – and one through which God could disclose himself (p. 117).

There is one level where, of course, Perham is exactly right. God, in his abundant mercy, gives us glimpses of himself in the lives of people who, while they are drawing ever closer to God, are nevertheless insuperably divided from each other, and even at enmity with each other. But there is, I fear, a great danger here. We do well to hope and trust that God sees and judges, not as man sees and judges, but according to the heart, and that men and women who seek to follow him with sincerity and integrity will all find his mercy. Christianity is not, however, a religion of good intentions. We believe in, and teach, objective truth, a truth revealed in the incarnate Word of God. To force these men together in the calendar, when they (unlike Wilfrid and Chad) reached no earthly agreement, is, it seems to me, to make concrete the idea that the truth of our religion doesn’t matter, only our intentions. I cannot help but think of John Henry Newman’s summary of “religious liberalism” in his famous “Biglietto Address”, delivered when he received formal notice that he had been named a Cardinal of the Catholic Church:

Liberalism in religion is the doctrine that there is no positive truth in religion, but that one creed is as good as another, and this is the teaching which is gaining substance and force daily. It is inconsistent with any recognition of any religion, as true. It teaches that all are to be tolerated, for all are matters of opinion. Revealed religion is not a truth, but a sentiment and a taste; not an objective fact, not miraculous; and it is the right of each individual to make it say just what strikes his fancy. Devotion is not necessarily founded on faith. Men may go to Protestant Churches and to Catholic, may get good from both and belong to neither. They may fraternise together in spiritual thoughts and feelings, without having any views at all of doctrine in common, or seeing the need of them. Since, then, religion is so personal a peculiarity and so private a possession, we must of necessity ignore it in the intercourse of man with man. If a man puts on a new religion every morning, what is that to you? It is as impertinent to think about a man’s religion as about his sources of income or his management of his family. Religion is in no sense the bond of society.

It strikes me that both Thomas More and Thomas Cranmer would have agreed absolutely with Newman’s analysis. Neither was willing to let his religion be merely a private matter, nor was the age in which they lived likely to let them do so.

Let me not sound controversial. Perhaps we commemorate both these men because we would like to claim them both as ours: the reforming zeal and liturgical genius of Cranmer, and the principled faith and devotion to the Church of More. And perhaps the more mature Anglicanism of the Elizabethan and Caroline periods, eventually enshrined in the 1662 Prayer Book, owes something to them both, seeing that it curbed both the radical theology advocated by Cranmer and the Erastianism opposed by More. These men may be guideposts to the Via Media that Anglicanism tries to walk. For all that, though, I am not easy in my mind on this Commemoration of Thomas More, Martyr. Not least because if one had to choose between these men, I think that More’s “magnetic pull” would be greater.

* * *

Me?  More or Cranmer?  More.

Which Anglican saints would we like to keep for the Ordinariate's calendar?

The lay faithful originally of the Anglican tradition who wish to belong to the Ordinariate, after having made their Profession of Faith and received the Sacraments of Initiation, with due regard for Canon 845, are to be entered in the apposite register of the Ordinariate.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines the Sacraments of Initiation as: Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Communion.  Of course, the baptisms of incoming Anglicans, conducted as they were with water and the invocation of the Holy Trinity, will be accounted unquestionably valid, but this section of the Complementary Norms suggests that those received will required to undergo the administration of the Sacrament of Confirmation, which notion, like the question of (conditional) ordination for Anglican clergy, has been difficult for some to accept.

As on the issue of Holy Orders, Joshua rightly argues that the Church is concerned only with the integrity of the sacramental system, that all doubt should be dispelled, both on the part of the Catholic Church and those to be received into her communion.  Rather than a stumbling-block, this should ultimately prove a comfort.

* * *

In the Byzantine Rite, the words at the anointing of the confirmandi with chrism are "The seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Sphragis dōreas Pneumatos Hagiou). By an ancient tradition, when the Apostles could no longer confirm in person by the laying on of hands, they instead consecrated the first chrism, or perfumed olive oil (myron, as the Greeks call it by metonymy, after one of the odorific additives, myrrh), and distributed this to the bishops and priests they appointed in every place, that henceforth confirmation be by anointing with chrism. Thus far the Holy Eastern Church…

According to the Beloved Disciple, we all receive an anointing (chrisma) from the Holy One (I John ii, 20), and very fittingly, since as Christians we are in sober truth christs, very members of Christ, Who lives in us, and by His Spirit gives us true life. The application of the sacred unction symbolizes and reminds us of this, which is the fulfilment in us, in Christ, of all the Old Testament types and prophecies made concerning the Lord's Anointed.

Amusingly, while the word "chrism" has this high and pure connotation, the word itself is cognate with a native English word of precisely opposite nature: grime! We who are besmirched and besmeared with the muck of this world, the scum of sinners, fallen sons of the man of earth, are chrismated to become perfect men in Christ. We are confirmed, anointed, and sealed (sphragisamenos) – cf. II Cor. i, 20f.

Confirmation is a perfecting and completing of baptimal grace, a strengthening, a setting fast, a making sure: it seals us and marks us with an indelible character; it is effected by the laying on of hands and chrismation, accompanied by the words of prayer. In the not inconsequential phrase of old, it establishes us Christians as soldiers of Christ, to fight the good fight of the faith against the world, the flesh and the devil. It is the gift of the Gift, a most special imprint of the Holy Ghost.

Confirmation, however, is at present for some a stumbling block set in the path of those wavering between hope and fear, those at Tiber's bank wondering whether to cross…

As a consequence of the Church's well-known doubts as to the validity of Anglican orders in general, as well as for the very good reason that Anglicans do not in general anoint at their rite of confirmation, but only lay on hands, Anglican laymen who come into full communion with the Catholic Church are directed to be confirmed as part of their reception. Their previous Anglican confirmation is adjudged insufficient, not merely by by reason of concern about the orders of those who carried out that rite, but since that rite usually did not include an anointing with any chrism at all, let alone some duly consecrated in solemn rites, since any shadow of doubt in the matter of the sacraments must be treated as a most serious concern.

Whatever of the undoubted fact that, in the Apostolic age, confirmation was at first carried out by the laying on of hands by the Apostles, very early on – Tertullian is among the first to explicitly testify to this – the anointing of candidates with oil became the central rite of confirmation, or chrismation as the East terms it. Certainly, by the time of the unhappy break of England with Rome, the Western Church had for a millennium and more used chrism for confirmation. While to this day theologians are divided as to the absolute necessity of chrismation as part of the sacrament, and the Church has made no final decision on the subject, it is certain that in all recognized churches, retaining Apostolic orders, anointing is the central ceremony of confirmation, and has been for well over a thousand years. The Orthodox are if anything more insistent upon this point, it is well to note.

Therefore, whatever of the original simple ritual of the Primitive Church, Cranmer and his associated Reformers had no power whatsoever to break with the age-old consensus of the Fathers, of the whole Church, and to cast away anointing with chrism at confirmation. It is to be feared that, in doing so, they consciously attempted to strip it of all sacramental significance. The Church having determined to chrismate, to break with this is to introduce a most serious doubt as to the efficacy of the rite, even if, for the sake of argument, Anglican orders were unquestionably valid.

As the Ecumenical Council of Trent, lawfully assembled in the Holy Ghost, decreed in its 7th Session, in 1547, when treating of the sacraments:

CANON XIII. If any one saith, that the received and approved rites of the Catholic Church, wont to be used in the solemn administration of the sacraments, may be contemned, or without sin be omitted at pleasure by the ministers, or be changed, by every pastor of the churches, into other new ones; let him be anathema.

Therefore, for Cranmer et al. to change the "received and approved rites… used in the solemn administration of the sacraments" – as by removing the use of chrism from confirmation – was a most gravely sinful act; to say that such proud pastors had the power to do so, in defiance of the wider Church, would throw all the sacraments and their essential rites into complete uncertainty. They had no such authority.

The fact that the 1549 Book of Common Prayer, followed by all its successors, did away with chrismation as the essential sacramental rite of confirmation, proves that Anglican confirmation is radically defective, and in the eyes of the Catholic Church inherently suspect of invalidity, whatever of the status of the orders of a particular Anglican bishop.

The spiritual forefathers of Continuing Anglicans, the Nonjurors of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, early attempted to restore the use of chrism in confirmation, since these devoted students of Christian antiquity saw that chrismation is an essential element of the rite, as the Preface of their liturgical compilation of 1718 attests:

…the Chrism [is] restored in the Confirmation-Office. …as for Chrism, it is an Emblem of Spiritual Unction, of Grace conferr'd by the Holy Ghost; and with this Reference and Allusion it has been practis'd by the Primitive and Universal Church.

To this end, they added to the rite in the Prayer Book, not only restoring certain forms included in 1549, but deleted in 1552, but most significantly restoring (from the Sarum Pontifical) the chrismation, with rubricks directing that the Bishop

shall anoint every one of them with the Chrism or Ointment, making the sign of the Cross upon their forehead, and saying,

N., I sign thee with the sign of the Cross, I anoint thee with Holy Ointment,

Then the Bishop shall lay his hand upon the head of the Person he is confirming, and say,

And I lay my hand upon thee: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

(The Sarum formula, identical with the traditional Roman form, was N., Signo te signo crucis et confirmo te chrismate salutis, in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti – "N., I sign thee with the sign of the Cross and I confirm thee with the chrism of salvation, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost". It is evident that the Nonjurors adjusted and reinserted the words relative to the chrism into the 1549 rendering of the rest of the formula.)

The same small book goes on to supply a form for consecrating the chrism, noting that it is compounded of "sweet Oil of Olives, and precious Balsam commonly called Balm of Gilead"; the short prayer appointed aptly summarizes the purposes of confirmation:

The Lord be with you.

And with thy spirit.

Let us pray.

O Lord of mercies, and Father of lights, from whom every good and perfect gift proceedeth; Send down, we beseech thee, thine Holy Spirit to sanctify this Ointment: And grant, that all those who after Baptism shall be anointed therewith, may be cleansed and purified both in body and soul, be confirmed in godliness, and obtain the blessings of the Holy Ghost; who, with the Father and the Son, liveth and reigneth ever one God, world without end.

(Source: A Communion Office, Taken Partly from Primitive Liturgies, And Partly from the First English Reformed Common-Prayer-Book: Together with Offices for Confirmation, and the Visitation of the Sick. London: 1718.)

While this rite died with the Nonjurors as they successively split, faded, failed and died out, the fact that those pious men of old time were moved to restore chrismation as part of their ceremony of confirmation is highly instructive.

In the case of modern-day Anglicans seriously considering taking up Pope Benedict's most generous offer of welcoming them into the unity of the Catholic Church, I would urge them, in all honesty and concern for their spiritual well-being, not to be angered, driven away nor scandalized at the Roman insistence upon reception into full communion by confirmation. The fact that most if not all of them will not have been confirmed in a rite using consecrated chrism, but by a laying on of hands alone, should give them pause: such a confirmation, wanting a most central and important rite – a rite viewed as essential by the Orthodox even more so than by the Papacy – is unfortunately questionable.

If one received but the laying on of hands alone, and yet the churches of East and West have for many ages required one to be anointed with holy chrism, ought not one then prudently accept chrismation?

Since the deletion of anointing with chrism was a most serious and unparalleled omission made by the Reformers in defiance of Apostolic order, it is only prudent to assume that the Anglican rite of confirmation is, sadly, imperfect; and the only prudent course therefore is to submit to confirmation, with true chrism, at the hands of an undoubtedly consecrated bishop in the Apostolic succession, or of a priest as his licensed delegate.

I recall what Bishop Elliott once told us, of how he had been most carefully prepared for his confirmation by his father, an Anglo-Catholic priest holding to a high doctrine of confirmation as a true sacrament. Great was his father's wrath when the bishop who administered confirmation to young Peter – an ultra-low-church creature, "lower than a snake's belly" – went out of his way to deny that confirmation was a sacrament at all! Having had such an unpleasant and confusing Anglican experience, I daresay he was only too glad, when received into the Catholic Church, to be confirmed properly and without ambiguity.

What of those who, like Elliott, taught by pious men of Anglo-Catholic churchmanship, still shrink honestly from the prospect of being confirmed "again"? The experience, by no means unusual, of the good bishop ought give them pause for thought.

They would have been taught, and rightly so – if only their actual confirmation had been unquestionably valid! – that confirmation is unrepeatable, and that it were a sacrilege to be confirmed again. But this is the crux of the whole issue: the Catholic Church, on the twofold grounds of lack of anointing with chrism in the ceremony, and lack of certain orders on the part of the minister of Anglican confirmation, cannot affirm that such rite is a valid sacrament. Therefore, concerned and rightly so for the good of the souls of those who would enter into full communion, she would they were confirmed absolutely, for the avoidance of all danger.

The uncertainty of spotty Anglican practice – apparently involving, in some continuing jurisdictions, even the use of anointing, I am informed, but also including such resolute denials of the sacrament as that just mentioned, by those who never chrismate –compounded with concerns over the doubtfulness of Anglican orders (their "apocryphal" or cryptic, uncertain nature), makes all too understandable the wise provision of the Catholic Church in appointing confirmation as part of the rite of reception of incomers into full communion.

It is horrible to think, placing myself for the moment in the position of a good Anglo-Catholic, that what I so carefully prepared for and so valued — my confirmation in the Anglican communion — is not considered at all safe and sure by the Catholic Church, and that in joining her fellowship and communion, I will perforce be confirmed "again". This is indeed a stumbling block.

But this does not mean that such a person is viewed as lacking the Holy Spirit, nor as the dupe of a false offer of grace! God ever pours forth His Holy Spirit and grace, and indeed were it not for such supernatural elevation no Anglican would be moved in his heart to seek for Christian unity, fleeing what he once thought to be the true church, but now revealed in its doctrinal and moral confusion to be anything but. There is pain and tragedy in this; there is greater joy and hope in the surer promise, founded on the rock of Peter's faith.

Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift! How magnificent, not only to be received into full communion with the Catholic Church, fulfilling the hopes of generations of Anglo-Catholics, but at that reception to be guaranteed, in the prudent ministration of confirmation, the anointing of the Holy One, the seal of the gift of the Holy Ghost.

BTW, how many lay people who read The Anglo-Catholic pray the daily offices, Book of Common Prayer style?

"The Fond du Lac Circus"

In the period from roughly 1890 to 1970 relations between some Orthodox and some Anglicans became, at times, very close indeed.  In Europe, from the 1870s onward the Russian Orthodox Church in particular interested itself in the Old Catholic Churches, those groups of formerly Roman Catholic clergy and laity in Austria, Germany, the Netherlands and Switzerland (and later elsewhere) that rejected the definitions of Vatican I in 1870 on the infallibility and universal jurisdiction of the papacy — the Dutch Old Catholic Church originated earlier, in the 1720s, as a result of a split in the Dutch Catholic community — and in 1889 organized itself into the “Old Catholic Union of Utrecht,” and because of the strong and sympathetic interest in the Old Catholics of elements in the Church of England, this common “anti-papalism” had the effect of furthering contacts between Anglicans and Orthodox, contacts which had been initiated in the 1850s through the efforts of some of the “Oxford Movement” Tractarians and their Anglo-Catholic successors, but which had been occasional in occurrence and largely fruitless in results.  In America, Episcopalians by and large, and especially those of an Anglo-Catholic outlook, sought the friendship of the Orthodox and often assisted Orthodox communities in tangible ways, and so earned a good reputation amongst the Orthodox, particularly the Russians.  This friendship was not a disinterested one on the Episcopalians’ part, as they often sought from the Orthodox support and even recognition of their own claims to embody a non-papal form of “Western Catholicism,” and since the Episcopalians who made most of the Orthodox tended to be those of a most strongly Anglo-Catholic viewpoint, such as Charles Chapman Grafton (1830-1912; Bishop of Fond du Lac from 1889), leading Orthodox clergy tended often to take them as representative of Anglicanism as a whole.  When Reginald Heber Weller (1857-1933) was consecrated as Bishop-Coadjutor of Fond du Lac on November 8, 1900 Bishop Tikhon and two of his clergy attended the event as guests, and a photograph of the assembled Episcopalian bishops and a Polish Old Catholic bishop vested in copes and miters, together with the three Russians was circulated by indignant Protestant Episcopalians (who tried to prosecute Grafton and the other bishops for violating the rubrics of the Prayer Book at the service) under the title of “the Fond du Lac Circus.”  It was some four years later that Bishop Tikhon sent his inquiry regarding the use of the Prayer Book by convert Episcopalian clergy and parishes to Moscow.  One of Bishop Tikhon’s assistant bishops, the Lebanese Raphael Hawaweeny (1860-1915), whom he consecrated in 1904 as Bishop of Brooklyn, and who was canonized by the Orthodox church in America in 2000, in 1910 issued a decree allowing members of the Orthodox faithful who were in “emergency situations” or who lived in regions where Orthodox priests were inaccessible, to have recourse to the ministrations of Episcopalian clergy — although late in 1912 he wrote a pastoral letter formally to revoke this permission, on the grounds that his further study of Anglicanism had convinced him that the “loose teaching” of Anglican theologians and the variety and indefiniteness of Anglican doctrinal stances demonstrated that the Episcopal Church was a Protestant body, and also because, as he claimed, Episcopalians had begun to proselytize Orthodox laypeople to join Episcopal churches (his letter can be found here).

From a different perspective, Frederick Joseph Kinsman (1868-1944), the Church Historian and Episcopalian Bishop of Delaware from 1908 to 1919, when he resigned and became a Catholic, recorded in his religious autobiography Salve Mater (1920) — recently reprinted — some of the embarrassments of leading Episcopalians in their dealings with the Orthodox when the latter, taking them at their word about the “Catholic nature” of Anglicanism, requested that Episcopalians make their prayers and liturgies more explicit on such matters as prayer for the dead, invocation of the saints and sacramental efficacy and the Eucharistic Presence.  In subsequent decades, down through the 1940s, many Orthodox churches or patriarchies declared their “recognition” of Anglican Orders, by which they meant that Anglican churches had preserved the form and structure of the Church to a sufficient degree that if any Anglican church or the Anglican Communion as a whole should profess the Orthodox Faith and seek to unite with the Orthodox Church then those Anglican clergy deemed suitable to continue as clergy subsequently would not need to be ordained.  It did not mean what many Anglicans, then and subsequently, and some hopeful Continuing Anglicans today, seem to wish it to mean, that the Orthodox Church — or, rather, some Orthodox churches — had accepted Anglican churches as “sister churches,” real “churches” in the eyes of the Orthodox, or at least “real churches” to the same degree as the Orthodox view the Catholic Church (or “papal communion”) as “real.”  Fortunately, however, this essay need not deal further with that powerful delusion, save to note, first, that the Gadarene descent of Anglican churches into the abyss of WO and SS from the 1970s onwards has disabused the Orthodox of their illusions about the nature of Anglicanism (see this as an example), and, second, that the Orthodox do not seem inclined to treat any Continuing Anglican bodies as anything like the residuary legatee of Anglican orthodoxy.

Returning to the critique of the 1892 Episcopalian Prayer Book produced by the Holy Governing Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church, which was subsequently translated into English and published under Anglican auspices as Russian Observations upon the American Prayer Book (Alcuin Club Tracts XII) translated by Wilfrid J. Barnes and edited and annotated by Walter Howard Frere (the latter an English liturgical scholar and later Bishop of Truro in the Church of England) in 1917 (and which may be read here) it is a polite but critical examination of its subject from an Orthodox perspective; and it is remarkable how uncritical, and often approving, of its critique Frere (an anti-papal somewhat Orthodoxophile Anglo-Catholic) showed himself to be.  The critique deals, in its first section, with the Holy Communion rite, the Ordination rites (the longest section), the Baptism rite, Confirmation, Matrimony, the Sacrament of Penance and the Sacrament of Unction (or the absence of any rites for these last two) and then, in its second, with a number of general observations, most notably concerning the lack of any prayers for the dead in that Prayer Book.  As regards its critique of the Eucharistic rite, all that concerns us here, it makes two critical observations, first, the lack of any clear indication of a belief in, or explicit petition for, the “change” of the elements of bread and wine into the body and Blood of Christ and, secondly, the lack of any clear statement or even indication that the Eucharist is “a sacrifice for the living and the dead.”  (The Prayer of Consecration of the 1892 Prayer Book was identical to that of the 1928 book, although in 1892, as in 1789, the “Prayer of Humble Access” came between the Preface and Sanctus and what was specifically termed the Prayer of Consecration, beginning with “All Glory be to thee …“ etc.) The authors go on to conclude in this section that while there is nothing in the Prayer Book rite that explicitly contradicts these two beliefs, a denial of them can be as easily read into them, or by implication extracted from them, as their affirmation, and so calls for their being made clearer in any version of the BCP adapted for Orthodox use.

Nothing came of these Russian reflections; for that, we must fast-forward to 1977 and the aftermath of TE”C”’s decision in September 1976 to capitulate to the Zeitgeist (of which it had long been enamored) and accept WO (a “fall” which in my view was far more decisive than its 2003 decision to accept SS [sanctified sodomy], the latter being merely one of the ineluctable consequences of the former).  Among the consequences of this decision was that of the Church of the Incarnation in Detroit, Michigan to leave TE”C” and to seek admission to the Western Rite Vicariate (WRV) of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America.  The WRV has been founded in 1958, and from its beginning it employed an English translation of the Roman Catholic “Tridentine Mass” (and other offices), altered, as in a 1963 paperback The Missal for Use of Orthodox (sic) in my possession, to remove the filioque clause from the Nicene Creed and to introduce the epiclesis (or petition to the Holy Ghost to transform the elements of bread and wine) from the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom into the Roman Canon after the Words of Institution (two “paragraphs” later, after the Unde et memores and the Supra quae and before the Supplices te rogamus of the Canon).   Now a form of service was compiled (by whom I have been unable to determine) and produced originally in the form of a booklet entitled The Divine Liturgy Commonly Called The Mass in 1977.  Without going into the matter of its antecedents in detail (for the focus of this article, as of that to which it was originally intended to be an appendix, “Thoughts on an Anglican Use Mass," posted on March 8, 2010, was the Eucharistic Prayer, or anaphora, not the rite as a whole), one can observe that the rite was a “Missal-style” Anglican Eucharist, beginning with the Asperges, the dialogue between celebrant and servers, the Introit, Collect for Purity, Summary of the Law, Kyrie, Gloria, and the rest of the “Mass of the Catechumens” (as it is termed in the booklet) and so onto the “Mass of the Faithful” with its Offertory, Secret(s), Orate Fratres, then what is there termed  “Canon of the Mass part1” which is actually the Anglican “Prayer for the Whole State of Christ’s Church,” then “The Communion Devotions” (which is actually the bidding “Ye who do truly and earnestly repent you …” followed by the congregation’s response and the celebrant’s absolution and the “comfortable words,” all of Anglican provenance), Sursum Corda, Proper Preface, Sanctus, “Canon of the Mass part 2” (to which we shall return), the Lord’s Prayer, Pax, Agnus Dei, Prayer of Humble Access, Communion (beginning with the Agnus Dei), Prayer of Thanksgiving, Postcommunion Collect(s), Dismissal, Blessing and Last Gospel.

“The Consecration Prayer” (as “Canon of the Mass, part 2” is subtitled) follows, but please note that for convenience sake I shall paste in the copy found online here in Orthodox Wikipedia, which is textually identical to the version found in the 1977 booklet mentioned above; however, its title and rubrics have been rewritten in what I may term here “Orthospeak,” using Byzantine Rite rather than Roman Rite terminology.  Where these things differ, I shall insert those in the 1977 booklet in parentheses after those found in the online version.

CANON OF THE EUCHARIST

(CANON OF THE MASS, part 2)

Consecration (The Consecration Prayer)

All glory be to thee, Almighty God, our heavenly Father, for that thou, of thy tender mercy, didst give thine only Son Jesus Christ to suffer death upon the Cross for our redemption; who (by his own oblation of himself once offered) made a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world; and did institute, and in his holy Gospel command us to continue, a perpetual memory of that his precious death and sacrifice, until his coming again:

The bell rings once.

For in the night in which he was betrayed, he took bread; and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, Take, eat, this is my Body, which is given for you; Do this in remembrance of me.

The bell rings thrice for the offering of the Host.  (The bell rings thrice for the elevation of the Host.)

Likewise, after supper, he took the cup; and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of this; For this is my Blood of the new Testament, which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins; Do this as oft as ye shall drink it, in remembrance of me.

The bell rings thrice for the offering of the Cup. (And it rings thrice again for the elevation of the Chalice.)

Oblation (The Oblation)

Wherefore, O Lord and heavenly Father, according to the institution of thy dearly beloved Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ, we, thy humble servants, do celebrate and make here before thy Divine Majesty, with these thy holy gifts, which we now offer unto thee, the memorial thy Son hath commanded us to make; having in remembrance his blessed passion and precious death, his mighty resurrection and glorious ascension; rendering unto thee most hearty thanks for the innumerable benefits procured unto us by the same.

Epiclesis (The Invocation)

And we most humbly beseech thee, O merciful Father, to hear us; and of thy almighty goodness, vouchsafe to send down thy Holy Ghost upon these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine, that they may be changed into the Body and Blood of thy most dearly beloved Son. Grant that we, receiving them according to thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's holy institution, in remembrance of his death and passion, may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood. And we earnestly desire thy fatherly goodness, mercifully to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving; most humbly beseeching thee to grant that, by the merits and death of thy Son Jesus Christ, and through faith in his blood, we, and all thy whole Church, may obtain remission of our sins, and all other benefits of his passion. And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee; humbly beseeching thee, that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this holy Communion, may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ, be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him. Be mindful also, O Lord, of thy servants who are gone before us with the sign of faith, and who rest in the sleep of peace, especially N. and N. (Here, the names of the departed are remembered.) To them, O Lord, and to all who rest in Christ grant we pray thee a place of refreshment, light and peace. To us sinners also, thy servants, confiding in the multitude of thy mercies, grant some lot and partnership with thy holy Apostles and martyrs (John, Stephen, Matthias, Barnabas, Ignatius, Alexander, Marcellinus, Peter, Felicitas, Perpetua, Agatha, Lucia, Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia, and with all thy Saints) into whose company we pray thee of thy mercy to admit us. And although we are unworthy, through our manifold sins, to offer unto thee any sacrifice; yet we beseech thee to accept this our bounden duty and service; not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offenses, through Jesus Christ our Lord; by whom, and with whom, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, all honor and glory be unto thee, O Father Almighty, world without end. Amen.

This is the Prayer of Consecration of the PECUSA Prayer Book (probably, as explained below, that of 1928 rather than 1892) revised according to the critique made by the Holy Governing Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church in 1904.  The first of its two criticisms of the BCP rite, its lack of any explicit “change” of the elements of bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood, was dealt with by changing the wording of the 1928 Book’s “Invocation:”

And we most humbly beseech thee, O merciful Father, to hear us; and, of thy almighty goodness, vouchsafe to bless and sanctify, with thy Word and Holy Spirit, these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine; that we, receiving them according to thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ’s holy institution, in remembrance of his death and passion, may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood.

to:

And we most humbly beseech thee, O merciful Father, to hear us; and of thy almighty goodness, vouchsafe to send down thy Holy Ghost upon these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine, that they may be changed into the Body and Blood of thy most dearly beloved Son. Grant that we, receiving them according to thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's holy institution, in remembrance of his death and passion, may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood.

although it seems to me a defect that the second sentence of the 1928 “Invocation,” which originated in Cranmer’s 1552 rite as a denial of the identity of “these they gifts and creatures of bread and wine” with “his most blessed Body and Blood,” and which is a kind of “anti-epiclesis” immediately following upon a genuine epiclesis, was not either reworded or removed entirely, the more so as the “exordium” or introductory portion of the 1928 Prayer of Consecration was replaced by the exordium of the 1764 Scottish prayer — an exordium which had itself been replaced by that retained in 1892 and 1928 from the 1789 PECUSA BCP. (I myself suggested a rewording based on the 1929 Scottish Episcopalian BCP in my earlier article.)  Even more so is this the case as the same petition occurs again in very similar wording only two sentences later in the prayer (“… humbly beseeching thee, that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this holy Communion, may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ …” etc.).

The second criticism, concerning the lack of any indication of the Eucharist as a sacrifice offered “for the living and for the dead,” was met by inserting this prayer:

“Be mindful also, O Lord, of thy servants who are gone before us with the sign of faith, and who rest in the sleep of peace, especially N. and N. (Here, the names of the departed are remembered.) To them, O Lord, and to all who rest in Christ grant we pray thee a place of refreshment, light and peace. To us sinners also, thy servants, confiding in the multitude of thy mercies, grant some lot and partnership with thy holy Apostles and martyrs (John, Stephen, Matthias, Barnabas, Ignatius, Alexander, Marcellinus, Peter, Felicitas, Perpetua, Agatha, Lucia, Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia, and with all thy Saints) into whose company we pray thee of thy mercy to admit us.”

which is simply the Memento etiam (“Be mindful also …“) and Nobis quoque peccatoribus (“To us sinners also …“) petitions from the Roman Canon inserted into this prayer.  The first is simply a prayer for the dead, perhaps originally a diaconal proclamation which may not have become part of the Canon until the Sixth Century, and the second, which immediately follows it in the Canon, perhaps originally a prayer offered by the bishop and concelebrating presbyters and deacons on their own behalves, might have been included as well in response to another criticism expressed in the Russian Church’s 1904 critique, one concerning its “general defect” of “the absence from the Anglican service of any confession of faith in a living and real bond existing between the earthly and heavenly parts of the Church.”  A detailed examination of the prayer will demonstrate that its compilers worked from the 1928 Episcopalian BCP rather than that of 1892, for whereas in 1892 the wording of the petition immediately preceding these insertions from the Roman Canon ran ”that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this Holy Communion, may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ, be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in them, and they in him” that of 1928 altered its ending to “that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this Holy Communion, may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ, be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him,” and the wording of the 1977 adaptation follows the latter.  To recapitulate, then, this 1977 Western-Rite Orthodox Eucharistic Prayer revises its 1928 Episcopalian original by (1) replacing its opening exordium with that of the Scottish Communion Office of 1764 (and so undercutting Cranmer’s insistence that the only Christian sacrifice is that which Christ offered once, in the past, on the Cross), (2) altering its Cranmerian “Invocation” by dividing into two petitions, the first an explicitly consecratory epiclesis in the Byzantine fashion, the second an incongruous retention of the substance of Cranmer’s 1552 petition (which I have termed an “anti-epiclesis”) that those who receive the bread and wine may also “partake” of Christ’s Body and Blood (actions which for Cranmer were not necessarily connected with one another) and (3) inserting two petitions from the Roman Canon to provide an explicit statement of the Eucharist as a sacrifice for the living and the dead as well as an assertion of the continuing close connection of the living and the dead in Christ and in the Church (both of which Cranmer had come to deny by 1552).  Later on, in 1995, at the explicit request of the Patriarch of Antioch, two Byzantine-rite pre-communion prayers of the laity (“I believe, O Lord, and I confess …” and “Of thy Mystical Supper …”) were inserted in the rite immediately before communion and after the bidding “Behold the Lamb of God …” and its response “Lord, I am not worthy …”

Strangely, however, when in 2009 The Book of Common Prayer (subtitled The Administration of the Sacraments and Other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church in the English Parochial Tradition according to Orthodox Catholic Usage), an attractive and beautiful book, appeared, there were further changes of a puzzling nature to its Eucharistic Prayer.  (Other changes in the rite appear to be matters of style and “lay-out").  In the first place, the exordium of the includes elements of both the 1764 Scottish and the 1928 PECUSA prayers.  It runs:

All glory be to thee, Almighty God, our heavenly Father, for that thou of thy tender mercy, didst give thine only son, Jesus Christ, to suffer death upon the Cross for our redemption; who made there (by his own Oblation of himself once offered) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world …

where the 1928 American runs “who made there (by his one oblation of himself once offered) a full, perfect and sufficient sacrifice …” (etc.) and the 1764 Scottish “who (by his own oblation of himself once offered) made a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice …” (etc.).  Later on in the Prayer, in the petitions taken from the Roman Canon, the first, the Memento etiam is translated differently than in the 1977 version — this may be a matter of style, although I prefer that of 1977 — while the ensuing Nobis quoque peccatoribus is abbreviated and paraphrased in its beginning as “And vouchsafe to give unto us some portion and fellowship with …” (etc.) which seems as undesirable as it is unaccountable a change.  I have been given to understand since my original posting of “Thoughts on an Anglican Use Mass” on March 8 that these changes, or some of them, may represent no more than the singular and eccentric usage of one particular Western-Rite Orthodox priest and parish that by regrettable inadvertence was published as the “canonical” version, and that this shall be corrected in the future.  In the light of this new information, I am obliged to qualify my statement in the earlier posting concerning the Eucharistic Prayer of the Liturgy of St. Tikhon as affording “a striking example, as I see it, of how not to do this sort of thing.”  Most of the “flaws” or “objectionable features” that I had in mind were the work not of the compilers, but of the botcher(s) who were responsible for the version that was unfortunately published in 2009.  And yet I cannot withdraw it entirely, because the wording of the 1977 “epiclesis” (or “invocation”), which was unaltered in 2009, does seem cumbersome and objectionable.  Far better than “And we most humbly beseech thee, O merciful Father, to hear us; and of thy almighty goodness, vouchsafe to send down thy Holy Ghost upon these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine, that they may be changed into the Body and Blood of thy most dearly beloved Son. Grant that we, receiving them according to thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's holy institution, in remembrance of his death and passion, may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood” would have been something like “And we most humbly beseech thee, O merciful Father, to hear us; and of thy almighty goodness, vouchsafe to send down thy Holy Ghost upon these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine, that they may be changed into the Body and Blood of thy most dearly beloved Son to the end that all who shall receive the same may be sanctified both in body and soul, and preserved unto everlasting life,” of which the final part is drawn from the Scottish 1929 rite.

I will end by drawing interested readers’ attention to what appears to be a different, and seemingly independent, and rather more radically comprehensive, adaptation of the 1928 PECUSA Eucharistic Prayer for Orthodox use, and yet one that preserves unaltered then opening exordium of 1552/1789/1928:

“The English Liturgy”

Should any readers be able to provide information about its origin, authorization (by what jurisdiction?) and contemporary use I would be most grateful.

In Town Again?

Finally, I wish to acknowledge my debt to Benjamin Joseph Andersen of Lancelot Andrewes Press, who kindly sent me a copy of his M.Div. thesis, "An Anglican Liturgy in the Orthodox Church: The Origins and Development of the Antiochian Orthodox Liturgy of St. Tikhon," which he submitted in May 2005 at St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary of Crestwood, N. Y.  It has been invaluable to me, and I hope that he will accept whatever criticisms that I have made in this article in an indulgent manner.

My own experience with English church music goes back as far as my passion for the organ. As a small boy, I had a piercing treble voice, and always got good reports for my enthusiasm at singing classes. Our repertoire was simply songs in unison to piano accompaniment from the New National Song Book. I am eternally grateful for my grounding in English folk songs, many of which I still sing in the shower or when sailing my boat. It was only from age 13, when I went to St Peter’s School in York, that I heard the choir in the establishment’s chapel. Public school worship can be dry and bland, but we had good hymns for the short weekday morning services and full Choral Evensong on Sundays with settings of the Magnificat, Nunc Dimittis, versicles and responses and the Anthem.

In the early months of 1973, our choir and school orchestra were up to a performance of Haydn’s Nelson Mass in York Minster. The experience was electrifying as we got to stand in the carved oak choir stalls of England’s second Metropolitan Cathedral. I even got a bash on the organ after the dress rehearsal. From the summer term of that year, we were often singing Choral Evensong at the Minster, since the regular choir has its day off on Wednesdays. I had a whole year left of my treble voice. I could say that my apprenticeship as a chorister was next-best to actually being in a cathedral choir with daily rehearsals and an exacting life of school lessons and sport.

The typical English cathedral choir consists of about twenty boys from 7 to 13 years of age, a couple of altos (counter tenors), two or four tenors and two or four basses. The altos, tenors and basses are professionally trained singers or choral scholars at the local university, and are called Lay Clerks, Songmen or Gentlemen of the Choir, depending on the foundation's tradition of calling these men. They are paid for their choral duties and are often given a job as a teacher at the choir school and free lodgings in the cathedral close.

The male alto is very distinctive in England. I have sung this voice myself, and it requires a good head voice or falsetto and a seamless transition from the tenor chest voice. Europeans accustomed to female voices singing alto often find the male alto amusing! One’s range should be about the tenor register and from about middle E to treble C (one octave above middle C) in falsetto. Tallis would often write demanding alto parts, and I loved singing those anthems.

Most choral music is in four voices, but composers often split the trebles and tenors, or would write for as many as eight voices, especially the Renaissance composers. Old Stanford followed in this tradition with the glorious Beati quorum via.

The boys are recruited at seven years of age, having been evaluated for their potential for musical talent and ability to reproduce notes they hear. They need to be keen and motivated. They receive their whole preparatory school education at the Choir School and daily choir rehearsals. They learn two instruments – the piano and an orchestral instrument. They don’t sing a note for the first year, but listen and learn. At 8, they get their surplice and begin to sing. They are retired at 13, the age they pass their Common Entrance and go to Harrow, Winchester, Charterhouse, Eton, St Peter’s or wherever.

The choir is divided into two equal parts, and occupy their stalls each side of the choir of the church, the decani (Dean) side and the cantoris (Precentor) side. In the English tradition, the highest clerics do not occupy the easternmost stalls as in the Roman or monastic tradition, but the returns of the stalls under the choir screen. As you face the high altar, the cantoris side is to the right, and the decani side to the left.

At Mattins and Evensong, the Psalms are sung antiphonally in four-part harmony, that is to say by each half of the choir in turn. Usually, the whole choir sings the Glory be to the Father. The Psalms are ‘pointed’ and sung to a chant that works as follows:

1 / 2 3 / 4 // 5 / 6 7 8 9 / 10 : Glory be to the Father, and / to the / Son, // and / to the Holy / Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now, and / ever / shall be, // world without / end. A – - / men.

A chant can be single or double. A double chant repeats the same pointing, but goes from 11 to 20. It is more complex than the singing of the Latin psalms to plainchant. The effect of this way of singing the Psalms is of singular beauty in Christendom.

The Precentor is usually a canon with knowledge and experience in music, and able to sing in tune to intone the Office. I remember Canon Burbridge at York Minster in the 1970’s. He could read a lesson without a microphone, and you would understand every word from the west end of the nave. He was a wonderful man, and the boys loved him.

The organist and master of the choristers (organist and choirmaster in humble parish churches) is always a professional musician of a very high standard of organ playing and choir training. Very few organists get the coveted organ loft of an English cathedral! You generally need to be university trained in music and church music and an able composer and improviser, often to doctorate standard. It helps to be a Fellow of the Royal College of Organists. The usual way to get there is to be a cathedral chorister, work hard at school, get an organ scholarship at Oxford, Cambridge or Durham, get a Master’s Degree and an assistant organist’s job or a major parish church. A Doctorate of Music is most helpful. A man can hope to get the top job at about 40 or so, depending on opportunity and being in the right place at the right time, and knowing the right people.

An English cathedral organ is usually a large instrument located on the choir screen or spilt into two halves either side of the choir. The organist’s console is usually high up above the choir stalls or on the screen. It is usually a private ‘nest’ with curtains and a cosy atmosphere. The organist can see what is going on in the choir via a rear-view mirror or closed-circuit TV. You need to see the choirmaster’s hands and gestures. Conditions are often difficult for good accompanying, and this is testimony to the incredible skill of the English cathedral organist.

Choral Services are Mattins and Evensong from the Prayer Book each day, though Mattins is said on most weekdays in most cathedrals nowadays. The Sunday Eucharist is sung, whether it is from the Prayer Book or one of the newer forms in traditional or modern English. I think no explanation is needed of the Anglican Offices with which most of our readers are intimately familiar. The parts of the morning and evening Offices that show off the choir’s skill the most are the Te Deum or Magnificat and the Benedictus, Jubilate or the Nunc Dimittis. The Versicles and Responses are often sung to elaborate settings by Renaissance composers and to some fine modern settings. The Anthem, sung after the Third Collect, is the big showpiece of the day. One example is the Beati quorum by Stanford linked to above. After some improvised prayers by the Dean or a Canon taking his place, there is a final hymn, the Blessing and a virtuoso organ voluntary.

The history of the Anglican choral tradition since the Reformation is of great interest. Renaissance composers like Byrd and Tallis (both closet recusants) wrote for the Anglican Offices. The Puritans destroyed the Anglican musical tradition in the same way as Cromwell’s hoods broke up the organs and stained glass windows, anything that “smacked of Popery”. English church music made a comeback after the Restoration with composers like Purcell and Croft in the late seventeenth century. This was the golden age of organ building that continued to the end of the eighteenth century.

The Oxford Movement and SS. Wesley were largely responsible for the surpliced choir of men and boys from the early nineteenth century, imported from the largely privileged and untouched college chapels of Oxford and Cambridge. Organs were built bigger and bigger, and parish churches began to imitate the cathedrals with an organ in a side chamber and a set of choir stalls. English church music developed in beauty and virtuosity throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries with composers like Herbert Brewer, Stanford, Bairstow, Herbert Howells, Sumsion, Blair and so many others.

Whatever can be said about the current situation in the Church of England, the choral tradition in the cathedrals, royal peculiars and college chapels continues from strength to strength to the same unshakably high standard.

As I have said in an earlier article, there are no short cuts if we want to import this tradition into the Ordinariate. The reality is having the financial resources, choir schools, large churches and professional musicians. There is no other way, and this will take years. However, a reasonable parish choir can do very well with hard work, dedication and the right organist and choirmaster taking charge.

Another reality, as in Catholic choirs in England (other than Westminster Cathedral), will be women sopranos and altos. However, with a lot of work and practice, the warbling vibrato can be worked away, and there are some very good mixed choirs around. It might be shocking to say it here on a conservative Anglican blog, but I see no problem having these ladies in cassocks and surplices and in the stalls. It is common practice in England with the dearth of choirboys.

I think it is essential to get good choirs singing in the Ordinariate churches. A quartet of people who can read music and sing with a minimum of rehearsal time is better than nothing, but eight voices are better. We need to encourage organists too, as many have suffered because of clerical philistinism and liturgical reform carried too far to encourage congregational singing at the expense of choral music. There is room for both, for Stanford in Bb or Wood in the Fridge, as well as those lovely traditional hymns we all love to sing in praise of the Lord.

Covehithe Tower

Approach more closely, and the truth becomes apparent.  The great church is no more than a shell.  It is not even certain that the building was complete at the Reformation.  It is ruinous.  Now, though, within its walls nestles a little thatched parish church.

Living Church and Empty Ruin

It survives as a place of worship largely through the efforts of the Churchwarden, a local landowner, who was a great support to me throughout my time in office.  Now his widow continues to be an encouragement to my successor, Keith, Bishop of Richborough.  Without their efforts it would have been declared redundant, and the Church of England would have been a poorer place.

Pulpit and Altar

There is only one remnant of the former great church within the walls of the present House of God.  It is the font, much mutilated but still bearing the signs of the four Evangelists, and between them four angels bearing instruments – though whether of music, or of the Passion, it is hard to decipher.

Font

Parables should speak for themselves, rather than being subject to literary analysis.  Enough to say that today's C of E looks very grand until you inspect it more closely.  For all that, there are still places where, thanks to pious individuals, prayer is alive and real.  I recall one great Forward in Faith celebration for Suffolk and Norfolk, when we offered the Eucharist in the words of the old Prayer Book, and then enjoyed great hospitality at the home of the churchwarden.

Covehithe is on the extreme East coast of England.  The road near the church ends with a danger sign; the land is being eroded, and the church will one day disappear.  Maybe the font will be preserved as a garden ornament; or perhaps Islam wil prohibit such superstitious artefacts.

Pray for the hidden heart of England, and for those who keep the faith alive.  Oh, by the way, the State keeps the ruins in good repair through English Heritage. The Church within the ruins is kept going by the faithful few.

In 1660, the English Parliament established the twenty-ninth day of May, both the birthday of King Charles II and the day upon which he entered London after his exile, as a public holiday in commemoration of the Restoration of the Monarchy.

Anniversary of the Restoration

'Resolved, That a Bill be prepared for keeping of a perpetual Anniversary, for a Day of Thanksgiving to God, for the great Blessing and Mercy he hath been graciously pleased to vouchsafe to the People of these Kingdoms, after their manifold and grievous Sufferings, in the Restoration of his Majesty, with Safety, to his People and Kingdoms: And that the Nine-and-twentieth Day of May, in every Year, being the Birth Day of his Sacred Majesty, and the Day of his Majesty's Return to his Parliament, be yearly set apart for that Purpose…

Thanksgiving Day

Resolved, That the Lords be desired to join with this House, in beseeching the King's Majesty, to appoint a Day to be set apart for publick Thanksgiving to God, throughout this Realm, for the great Blessing and Mercy God hath vouchsafed to the People of these Kingdoms, after their manifold and grievous Sufferings, in the happy Restoration of his Majesty to his People and Kingdoms. Ordered, That Sir Wm. Lewis, Mr. Finch, Mr. Perrepont, Serjeant Maynard, Sir Wm. Morris, Mr. Pryn, Mr. Turner, do withdraw, and pen a Petition to his Majesty to this Effect, upon the present Debate.'

House of Commons Journal Volume 8: 30 May 1660, Journal of the House of Commons: volume 8: 1660-1667 (1802), pp. 49-50.

Until the mid-nineteeth century, a service entitled "A Form of Prayer with Thanksgiving; To be used yearly on the xxix. day of May; Being the day of the His Majesties Birth, and happy Return to His Kingdoms" was annexed to the Book of Common Prayer.

On January 17, 1859, Queen Victoria, acting in response to addresses from both Houses of Parliament and cancelling the previous order made upon her accession to the throne for their continuance, issued a royal warrant abolishing the so-called "State Services" (Gunpowder Plot, November 5; Martyrdom of King Charles I, January 30; and the Restoration of King Charles II, May 29) and ordering the removal of these forms from the Book of Common Prayer.  It should be noted that the suppression of these observances, while effected by Royal and Parliamentary authority, was accomplished without the consent of Convocation, in violation of the compact between Church and Realm, as set forth in the Act of Uniformity which imposed the Book of Common Prayer in 1662.

* * *

The following two prayers were appointed in place of the First Collect at Morning Prayer.

It is difficult for me to gauge what Sarum means to some people! As someone trained in philosophy and theology, with ten years experience as a professional translator, I have acquired a certain ability to understand and interpret words with intellectual precision, going from their etymology to their conventional use and the context of a text. A technical translator cannot afford to understand words emotionally; otherwise someone might get killed or maimed by using a machine according to erroneous instructions!

I would like readers to be assured that I do have pastoral sense as a priest, and would never advocate depriving people of their patrimony or the things they love, even the Prayer of Humble Access, which I myself find very beautiful and devotional as a preparation for receiving Holy Communion. The general consensus here is that the Prayer Book is the basis of the Anglican Patrimony. OK, it rains in England! Birds have wings! There’s no surprise here. The question is how the Prayer Book can be supplemented with Sarum material to restore its inner coherence and harmonise this tradition with the liturgical life of the Catholic Church. I remain convinced that this is the way to go without picking up bits and pieces from sappy and sentimental nineteenth century Catholicism which is foreign to Anglicanism.

I softened my stand when commenting Fr Phillips' posting on the Prayer Book basis of the BDW, and was overjoyed when he saw the wisdom of using Sarum material to flesh out the parsimonious Prayer Book material, so that the result would be something Anglicans are familiar with. Fr Hunwicke's approach is much more difficult. Other than a minority of Anglicans using the English Missal, there would seem to be no point in replicating the Latin rite Roman Catholic liturgical status quo having linguistic style as the only distinguishing point. But, perhaps that can be left as an option. Who knows? I’m not the Roman Curia who has to decide what is to be allowed and what not allowed!

I agree that Sarum could only be an "extraordinary" use and not something that could be imposed in an ordinary parish. Similarly, impose the Tridentine rite on ordinary parishes and people will vote with their feet! I find Fr Phillips' position the most realistic, which is not surprising. He is a highly experienced parish pastor. Get the 1979 and the Paul VI rite out (I am not denigrating the modern Roman rite in its proper ecclesial context), and produce a more "international" BDW based on 1549 (or English 1928) and Sarum, with some optional modern improvements like expanded lectionaries and selections of prefaces. Things are on the right track, and will be refined in time.

The big question is that famous liturgical commission, knowing whether it exists and is working, it no longer exists and its work is done and the books are waiting for "Christmas Day", or whether it is a project for the future.

OK, I’ll pick myself up and carry on working and contributing to the future of the Ordinariates. I think we will get things right, but let us do everything on a good intellectual and historically-conscious basis, otherwise we will go on making mistakes because of runaway emotions. I’m not accusing anyone any more than myself. We have a big responsibility, and we can’t afford to screw it up.

I also address a word to zealous Catholic folk who have been wounded by the way the Roman liturgical reform was imposed in the 1970’s. I won’t teach any lessons here, but we do have to learn to be less anxious about everything and less intense.

Above all, I ask your prayers and the strength of the Holy Spirit…

Pope Benedict XVI does not work that way, but has on numerous occasions, even as Pope, decried the ostracism against those who prefer the traditional rite. Truth be told, this Pope obviously wishes the two uses of the Roman rite (as he described them in Summorum Pontificum) to coexist and influence each other. Having lived in continental Europe and having known something of the old French and Belgian liturgical movements, I appreciate the need for a more balanced spirit in the liturgy, between the extremes of counter-Reformation rigid rubricism and the “heresy” of formlessness which all too often prevails in the celebration of the modern liturgy.

One example of liturgy we have overlooked is the European monastic patrimony, carefully restored and nurtured since the days of Dom Guéranger and the foundation of Solesmes. The Benedictine movement did more than anything else to get people to learn to sing Gregorian mass settings and begin to participate in the sacred action with some intelligence. The monastic liturgical movement simplified vestments and introduced flowing chasubles, copes, albs and surplices. In the 1990’s, I spent six months as a working guest at the Abbey of Triors in France, a daughter house of Fongombault, grand daughter of Solesmes. I was able to live the liturgy (1965 Roman rite and Monastic Office) in its plenitude and solemnity. The processions in the cloister were very “pre-Reformation” rather than rigid counter-Reformation. Those monasteries kept a different spirit from the dioceses or the various religious congregations of priests founded since the sixteenth century.

The monastic movement was often applied in French and Belgian parishes after World War II and often before. One shining example was the parish of Mesnil-Saint-Loup under Father Emmanuel in the nineteenth century. Anglicans would do well to study the Liturgical Movement in the Catholic Church and be aware that only one tendency within it was in favour of a liturgical vision reflecting modern deconstructionism and secularism. Many other strands within this movement were noble and inspiring in their vision.

As the Holy Father seeks to create a situation in which there would be free interchange between the two forms of the Roman rite to influence each other for the better via a long process of organic development, the same could be possible with the Anglican Ordinariates. We could have Sarum in either Latin or English, or a combination of the two languages, alongside an improved version of the Anglican Use containing more familiar material from the post-Reformation Prayer Book tradition.

It is true that the Prayer Book was the “novus ordo” of its time in Anglicanism, and was imposed by brute force – on pain of a highly unpleasant death. As the centuries passed, it became the patrimony of “parish Catholics”, people who continued to frequent their parishes as in pre-Reformation times without too much of a thought for church politics or the concerns of the clergy. In this way, a Catholic spirit did survive in spite of the radically Protestant regime in the English Church.

Concretely, I would see the Anglican Use Order of Mass as something very positive. I would proceed by removing the parts borrowed from the modern Roman rite which were in 1980 a sine qua non, but much more relative now. In their place, I would substitute the relevant parts of the Sarum ordinary. For example, the preparation of the chalice, the offertory prayers, the Roman Canon, the prayers after the Lord’s Prayer for the Fraction (including Christ our Passover). I have a copy of the Book of Divine Worhip and David Burt’s beautifully edited Anglican Use Gradual. I like the wealth of prefaces and prayers of the faithful, and this all comes in with the Pope’s ideas of opening up the wealth of liturgical diversity, bringing both old and new from the treasure-house.

The Proper can be that of Sarum minus the sequences. In such a way, the Anglican Use and the Sarum Use could be perfectly harmonised, and would function according to the same calendar, temporal cycle and lectionary. I would certainly like to help Fr Phillips contribute to the future work of a liturgical commission – as he would be likely to be on it.

Like Michael LaRue, I am not in favour of borrowing to any great extent from the counter-Reformation Roman tradition any more than the rite of Paul VI. We should not refuse the Roman rite (either form) when pastoral ministry calls on us to do so, but within our own usage, we should be Anglican and English – or English-inspired.

Such a liturgical vision of an eventually converging dual rite would incorporate the treasures of post-Reformation times: the hymns of Charles Wesley and many other inspired Christian poets, the musical tradition of nineteenth and twentieth century Anglican cathedral choirs, Anglican chant for the psalms, settings for the Magnificat and Nunc dimittis, the Versicles and Responses, the hundreds of choral anthems and much more.

I have every reason to believe that a “Sarum-ised” Book of Divine Worship alongside an optional use of the Sarum Use itself and the already explicit possibly of using the Roman Rite (either form) would not leave a single Anglican unsatisfied. The diversity is limited, but made very flexible by the use of a Book of Divine vastly improved by the removal of the “lame duck” Novus Ordo material.

I have read and considered Fr Hunwicke’s arguments for the “Roman” Anglicanism of the Society of St Peter and St Paul, the Big Six on the high altar, churches like St Mary’s, Bourne Street and a counter-Reformation ethos, though very different in spirit from the Society of St Pius X or pre-Vatican II continental Catholicism. Many do feel alienated by the “Roman” and baroque tradition in Anglicanism: baroque altars, baroque vestments (yes, I use them too), lace albs, cottas, birettas – all the things they have at Gricigliano! The only thing is that at Gricigliano, they are continental Roman Catholics.

I can understand the visceral attachment many have to the Prayer Book, and what in the Prayer Book needs to be kept and reused in a Catholic context. There is the Collect for Purity, the Summary of the Law, the magnificent prayer of confession, the absolution, the Comfortable Words, the Prayer of Humble Access, the Thanksgiving. All these prayers figure in the Book of Divine Worship, and would presumably be kept in a revised and improved version. Despite the wide use in England of the modern Roman rite, I think there is still a bedrock of Parish Catholics who would be attracted by a rite containing these prayers from the Prayer Book, and the whole rite being in the same style of English language.

I have said many things and I try to be positive, not to please the greatest number, but to find a way forward by comparing the issues in Anglicanism with the wider crisis in the Catholic Church over issues of identity and patrimony. We can tease out what is most characteristic of our liturgical tradition in a hermeneutic of continuity bridging the pre-Reformation and post-Reformation traditions. I’m sure the Holy Father is looking to us for inspiration, as we are certainly going to prove to become a laboratory for the regeneration of the entire Church. I see wider issues than the number of candles on the altar or buttons on the Vicar’s cassock.

Let’s give this new slant some thought, now that I see Fr Phillips and I (learning from each other) are pushing in such similar directions…

“‘Almost persuaded’ now to believe,”

I understand the attraction some people have.  Sarum is rooted in England’s Catholic history.  We’d be rescuing a venerable Use from liturgical obscurity.  It would even have some snob appeal: “Well, you know, we’re Sarum Use, of course.”  I’d love to be able to say that (preferably with a classy British accent).  We’d be the darling of every lover of tradition, whereas the “Vatican-Two-Changed-All-That” crowd would see us as the bane of all they hold dear.  I’d like that, too.

As I said, I’m “almost persuaded.”

But when I hear about the adaptations some Sarum supporters are proposing, I have to ask, “When does it stop being Sarum?”  We could genuflect instead of bowing?  Ok, that sounds good – bowing was always “low church” in my circles.  We wouldn’t have to be wedded to the Sarum sequence of liturgical colors?  Great, because it’d get tedious constantly having to explain why we’re wearing black during Advent and Lent, and besides, do we know what the Sarum sequence of colors actually was?  We could celebrate it in English rather than Latin?  I like Latin, but it does seem as though an essential part of our patrimony is the use of hieratic English.  And there are lots of other adaptations, most of which would be pushed by some or all of us – the singing of hymns, the number of candles on the altar, and I’m sure the list would go on.

So I have to ask, “When does it stop being Sarum?”

In fact, if things got to be so “adapted” that we ended up with a Mass using hieratic English, six candles on the retable, the Roman sequence of liturgical colors, and genuflections at the appropriate places, how would that be different from the Prayer Book with Missal additions?  Quite honestly, if we want to “Sarum-up” our liturgy, it can be done.  Saying or singing the “Veni, Creator Spiritus” as an opening hymn, even daily, would be well within the rubrics.  Our liturgy already uses the Collect for Purity at the beginning of Mass.  Many of us already use the Gregorian canon, and I would imagine it will be normative, no matter what the Ordinariates eventually get for a liturgical use.

There are some things that say “Book of Common Prayer,” no matter what version – the Collect for Purity, the Summary of the Law, the Comfortable Words, the Prayer of Humble Access, the list could be expanded – and I think most of us would want these familiar elements included in our liturgy.

I do think the rubrics need to be somewhat permissive (and there's plenty of precedent for that), if the goal is to have a single liturgy for all the Ordinariates.  There’s bound to be diversity in the way the liturgy is celebrated on the local level, and it’s best to have rubrics which set certain boundaries, and yet make allowances for a parochial expression of the one liturgy.

When it comes to an Ordinariate liturgy, I want something that’s recognizably Prayer Book, and which provides the Missal additions most of us know and love.  The Book of Divine Worship is an attempt at that, but (as we all know) falls far short because of the constraints that were placed on it as it was being compiled.

Sarum?  I’m “almost persuaded,” but not quite.  Gimme that ol’ time religion, something that’ll let us say, “Hey, that’s just like the Prayer Book, but better.”

Fr. Hunwicke has authored this piece as part of the joint discussion between The New Liturgical Movement and The Anglo-Catholic regarding the future of Anglican liturgy in the personal ordinariates to be erected under Anglicanorum Coetibus.

I would observe that a number of Anglican altar missals similar to the English Missal were produced up until about 1960.  In the Anglican Church in America, the USA province of the TAC, two books in particular are widely used.  The first is the so-called Anglican Missal in the American Edition, a product of the Frank Gavin Liturgical Foundation.  The other is the American Missal, printed by the Society of St. John the Evangelist (the Cowley Fathers).  Both of these would be comparable to the English/Knott Missal.  While our English Anglo-Catholic brethren have largely abandoned the English Missal for the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite (or another modern hybrid), the Anglican Missal remains par for the course in North American parishes.

* * *

Four Liturgical Forms

by Fr. John Hunwicke, SSC
Parish Priest of St. Thomas the Martyr, Oxford

Some things about the Eucharistic worship of the Ordinariates are already clear. Since Ordinariate clergy will be part of the Roman Rite, they will be able lawfully to use the Ordinary Form in a translation which will have received the recognitio of the Holy See – and I am of course thinking of the new ICEL translation of the Roman Rite. Doubtless many will use this rite, since (particularly in England) very many Anglican Catholic clergy have in the past used the OF. Those who adhered to more 'Anglican' forms – the Alternative Service Book or Common Worship – commonly used Anglican rites in modern English so that they could deftly graft into them Roman elements.

As clergy of the Roman Rite, Ordinariate clergy will also lawfully be able to make use of the provisions of Summorum Pontificum. This may surprise some Roman Catholics. There are those who have been nervous that the Ordinariate scheme would mean that some dubious semi-Protestants would be squeezing into full communion with the Holy See. Nothing could be further from the truth. Amid the diversity with which Roman Catholics are familiar, Anglican Catholic clergy are very much within what you might call the New Liturgical Movement end of the spectrum. I myself use the Extraordinary Form most mornings of the week. Since I feel that the disadvantages of being out of full Communion with the Holy See are so painful that there must be some little compensation available to comfort me, I use the Roman Rite, not according to the books of 1962, but as it was at the beginning of the Pontificate of Pius XII. I suppose that if I am admitted to the presbyterate of an Ordinariate, I shall have to come into line with the 1962 liturgical books, but it will be with some regret that I abandon those Octaves and Vigils and Commemorations and Last Gospels and so on.

So that's the two Forms of the Roman Rite. A third, in my view, should be the OF liturgical books provided in an English which is either taken from the Book of Common Prayer (where Cranmer was translating Latin originals) or translated into English of the same style. Half a century ago, the great Christine Mohrmann argued that the Mass should not be translated into vernaculars because modern European languages lacked sacred vernaculars. She demonstrated that liturgical Latin, far from being adopted in order to give Latin speakers a liturgy they could understand, was an intentionally hieratic and sacral dialect, based upon pagan liturgical formulae going back hundreds of years. So, she felt, a similar archaic and sacral dialect was the only appropriate vernacular form which should be given to the Roman Rite. Mohrmann was dead right – except about one detail. There was one European language which did have a sacral dialect venerable with centuries of use: English, as it was used in Anglican worship. It was one of the great tragedies of the post-Conciliar period that Roman Catholics ignored this precious and beautiful heritage; and that so many Anglicans followed suit.

Finally, I believe that it would be valuable for the Holy See to authorise the English Missal, which provides the 'Tridentine' Rite with those parts of it audible to the people translated into Cranmerian English. For half a century, millions of Anglican Catholics worshipped with this rite before the Conciliar changes. Where Cranmer did translate a Latin formula, the English Missal uses his version; where biblical texts appear, they are adapted from the Authorised Version of the Bible; other euchological elements are rendered into English in the same style. This is what I, and many of my generation, were brought up with, and my love for it is second only to my love for the Latin original. There are still hundreds of copies of this book in Anglican Catholic sacristies all over England; dusty perhaps, but just crying to be brought back into use. There may have been clergy who used English forms of the Sarum Rite, but, if so, their numbers were minuscule. It is the English Missal which was – and is – our Patrimony.

That's four forms of the Roman Rite. I firmly believe we should resist calls for 'museum' rites: Sarum, 1549 or the Non-jurors, and should stick to what is manifestly mainstream in the modern Catholic Church (the OF and EF) in forms which either are consistent with the new ICEL texts or which draw upon the linguistic and stylistic liturgical Patrimony of Anglican Catholicism during its glory days. By so doing, I feel that we shall not only be providing for the nostalgia of our own people, but also providing an enrichment of the liturgical spiritualities available to all Catholics. I believe we should be aiming much higher than merely at being a chaplaincy for ex-Anglicans. There is a vacuum out there which we could help to fill.