1928 practices and the 1979 book: unthinking conservatism or popular piety?

Those responsible for Earth & Altar - a new blog emanating from a group within TEC - are to be congratulated for an excellent contribution to wider Anglican discussion and debate. The commitment to "an expansively conceived credal orthodoxy as fully compatible with LGBTQ inclusion, gender equality, and racial justice" is an important part of a wider retrieval of creedal orthodoxy within what we might call the post-liberal generation.

It is in this spirit that I want to respond to a recent post on the site by Andrew McGowan, Dean of the Berkeley Divinity School at Yale and Professor of Anglican Studies at Yale Divinity School.  Against the background of another round of "ill-defined" liturgical revision in TEC, he understandably urges that a fuller reception of the 1979 BCP should occur before further reforms.

In doing so, however, he takes aim at what he describes as "clinging to the ritual structures of 1928" while using the text of 1979.  We are left in no doubt that this is A Bad Thing:

Clinging to the ritual structures of 1928 is an identity issue, and maintaining certain coded practices that rub against the grain of the 1979 Book is a form of conservatism that has political significance and excludes newcomers and converts. It involves both clericalism but also issues of tribal identity at congregational level. 

It does seem to be a rather odd criticism of liturgical actions.  What liturgical actions are not "coded practices"? Is it not part of the purpose of ritual structures to form identity?  As for excluding "newcomers and converts", is it really being suggested that the norms of 1979 are straightforwardly grasped by those outside of TEC?  And when it comes to clericalism, the charge can just as easily be made against versus populum as ad orientem.

What is also odd is that this allegation of 1928 practices equating to a nasty reactionary stance follows on from an earlier description in the post of a parish with such practices:

Not long ago I was at a professedly middle of the road parish where, if the sound had been turned down, only the use of cassock-albs and the prominence of ordained women could have revealed we were using the current rather than the 1928 Book.

That reads like the description of a very ordinary Anglican parish, neither particularly conservative nor particularly liberal balancing continuity and reform, embracing the priestly ministry of women.  Are we really sure it should be easily condemned for adhering to "a form of conservatism that has political significance and excludes newcomers and converts"?

A range of specific '1928' practices are critiqued in the post.  The assumption that these practices are the result of an unthinking conservatism requires greater scrutiny than McGowan allows.

1. Are the readings at the Sunday Eucharist actually those - all those - of the lectionary, or do they still use two? ... if you use two as a norm, this is the old Prayer Book, not the new. 

What, however, if the wisdom of the 1928 approach - the wisdom of the historic Western lectionary - that "more is not always better" (to quote Matthew Olver's excellent critique of the three-year lectionary) is actually correct?

Is the weekly provision of three readings so significant that it is, as McGowan claims, the "heart" of the Church's reading of Scripture at the Eucharist?  Or does the experience of the historic lectionary's two readings suggest otherwise? A generation of three readings plus Psalm has provided little indication of deeper engagement with Scripture by either congregations or preachers.  Perhaps a less-is-more approach with two readings gives both congregations and preachers greater space and time to reflect on and meaningfully engage with Holy Scripture within the Eucharist.

As Drew Nathaniel Keane has said of his experience of the two readings of the historic lectionary:

Though I was at first troubled by the idea of having less Scripture read in a service, the reality of experiencing it dispelled my worries. There is a decided advantage to using fewer readings. With less text at each service to mark, learn, and inwardly digest, I found it far more likely that the sermon would touch on everything read and that I would walk out of the service remembering it. Less proved to be more.

2. Do the Prayers of the People only use one of the set forms, and are the local additions just those from a sick list? This is still basically 1928, with some added options.

What if fixed forms of intercession - not subject to the whims of the person leading the intercessions, continually changing from week to week - allows for a more prayerful and authentic participation on the part of the congregation?

In addition to this, the rubrics of BCP 1979 do not assume that set forms are somehow inconsistent with the rite:

Any of the forms which follow may be used.

Adaptations or insertions suitable to the occasion may be made.

3. Is there an offertory in the sense the Prayer Book envisages, with all the gifts brought forward as the people stand — or do the eucharistic bread and wine just appear somehow, before everyone stands to sing the doxology when money offerings come forward? There are variations on this theme, but it’s a discomforting “money talks” moment when the 1928 pattern prevails, against the rubrics and against the theology of offering of the 1979 Book. 

Diminishing the liturgical significance of the giving of alms and focusing instead on the offering of bread and wine does indeed run counter to classical Anglican liturgy.  In an age when neo-liberalism and individualism defines much of our discourse concerning money and capital, when an understanding of our duty to financially support the common good has been undermined, why would the Church reinforce such discourse by diminishing a liturgical act which embodies the call of Scripture - and used as one of the offertory sentences in 1928 - "To do good, and to distribute, forget not; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased"?

4. Does the eucharistic prayer form a single whole in which the whole community joins, or do congregants drop to their knees after the Sanctus for a “prayer of consecration” that was a separate element in 1928 but no longer exists? 

The rubric following the Sanctus in BCP 1979 states:

The people stand or kneel.

And why wouldn't we kneel as the history of our salvation, culminating in the Lord's sacrificial offering on the Cross, is recalled, and the Words of Institution, filled with sacrificial meaning, are proclaimed?

What is more, to deny that a 'prayer of consecration' theology is entirely absent from 1979 ignores the provision for additional consecration, which in addition to a short invocation of the Holy Spirit and the Words of Institution, also provides for this option:

or else the celebrant may consecrate more of both kinds, saying again the words of the Eucharistic Prayer, beginning with the words which follow the Sanctus, and ending with the Invocation (in the case of Eucharistic Prayer C, ending with the narrative of the Institution).

This clearly implies that it is this part of the Eucharistic Prayer which consecrates: which is, de facto, the Prayer of Consecration.

5. Do clergy wait to receive communion until the invitation has been made to the whole congregation, or do they get backstage altar passes and communicate before they’re supposed to? You know who you are. This early-access approach for the sanctuary party is a 1928 hangover too, in that the old book didn’t have either a fraction or invitation, and so clergy received straight after the consecration. This however is clearly against the rubric too. 

As McGowan admits, to blame this on 1928 is rather tenuous.  That said, it is not a practice that should be dismissed without some consideration.  It does reflect the fact that the clergy are there to serve the congregation by administering the Sacrament.  Reading the invitation - particularly in its longer form in Rite Two, incorporating the traditional second sentence of administration - immediately before the people receive the Sacrament ensures that its call to faithful reception is set before the faithful as they approach.  This also echoes why the clergy receive the Sacrament first: so that they may be strengthened to administer holy things.  Reading the invitation after this does not lack coherence, nor does it imply clericalism: it does highlight the importance of the reception of the Sacrament by the people.

6. Does the prayer after communion get called a “prayer of thanksgiving”? This isn’t strictly 1928 terminology, but it was widespread once; the reason it’s deeply contrary to the 1979 book is because the idea of “thanksgiving” has now been so clearly applied to the Eucharistic prayers themselves. It suggests the theology of the 1979 Eucharist itself hasn’t been adopted.

To describe this point is as pedantic is to be charitable.  The second post-communion prayer in Rite Two begins:

Almighty and everliving God, 
we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food ...

Yes, that is a prayer of thanksgiving.

What Eucharistic theology would lead us to suggest that offering a prayer of thanksgiving after reception of the Sacrament is somehow wrong?  To rightly term this a "prayer of thanksgiving" is to recognise the gift bestowed in the Eucharist: it is to recognise the rhythm of grace and gratitude at the heart of the Sacrament.

7. Last but not least, another clergy privilege issue; does your sanctuary party think it can process out before anyone has been dismissed? Probably. Why? Because they’re not really using the 1979 book. The jollity of singing on the way out of Church seems to have made numerous clergy lose the plot here. This again is a 1928 issue, because people expected to process after the blessing, given that was the end of the liturgy. The end of the liturgy in 1979 however doesn’t require a blessing, but does expect a dismissal.

Does it really serve the Church's liturgy to prioritise the dismissal over a banging recessional hymn?  The "jollity of singing" is no small matter in the Church's worship - and certainly is no small matter when it comes to what congregations tend to particularly value in worship.  If the dismissal is given after the recessional hymn from the body of the church, what exactly has been lost?  And if we want to play the clericalism card, does giving the dismissal before the sanctuary party recess not suggest that this, rather than the laos going out into the world, is the reason for the dismissal?

And a final point (and something of a hobby-horse of mine - apologies): 1979 not requiring a blessing expresses a woefully weak theology concerning our need for and dependence on assurance of God's blessing in the midst of a fallen world.


What if 1928 practices continue because they have a greater resonance than those practices promoted by a 'spirit of 1979' approach?  What if the practices of a 'spirit of 1979' approach have failed to resonate?  Rather than being an unthinking conservatism, "clinging to the ritual structures of 1928" may instead point to the continued resonance and meaningful nature of these practices.

As I read the Earth & Altar post, I reflected on the Episcopal churches in which I have worshipped in recent decades, in Washington DC, New York City, Boston, Cape Cod, and Maine.  I have happy memories of vibrant and usually large congregations, sound preaching, and good liturgy.  Significantly, in all of these churches, one particular 1928 practice - not mentioned by McGowan, but surely not in keeping with a 'spirit of 1979' - was universal: we knelt to receive the Sacrament.  No mention of kneeling to receive is to be found in BCP 1979.  It continues, however, because it resonates: because "devoutly kneeling" to receive the Sacrament is "well meant, for a signification of our humble and grateful acknowledgement of the benefits of Christ therein given".  The practice exemplifies how "clinging to the ritual structures of 1928" can embody a lively, deeply rooted, popular Anglican piety - and why there can be a suspicion that criticism of 1928 practice has more than a whiff of clericalism and tribal identity.

Comments

  1. Thank you so much for this, I am so hopeful for Earth & Altar, but my goodness, this article was hard to read and not stomp around my living room thereafter. Yours is an excellent, soothing response. I understand that this is but one little article, but I sure hope those of us who advocate for the same things E&A advocate for and also advocate for the Common Prayer tradition and classical Anglicanism are allowed a voice as this project continues. When are we going to learn that "[Roman] Catholic Lite" gets us nowhere but a seat in second-class?

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    1. Clint, many thanks for your comment. Certainly the E&A project does contribute to a wider Anglican renewal, albeit I would disagree with some of the political theology and liturgical approach.

      What is interesting is the sense of what I might call a post-liberal moment within aspects of Anglicanism at present - a recovery of creedal orthodoxy, a renewed interest in classical liturgy, an awareness of the need for a deeper political theology. Compared to emptiness of the theologies of the 60s-80s, this bodes well for the future of North Atlantic Anglicanism.

      For those of us who value the classical Common Prayer tradition, however, some other vehicle is required to sustain and renew that tradition as my instinct is that E&A's ethos is aligned to BCP 1979.

      Brian.

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