Noble but bare and quiet: a May Day celebration of an Anglican piety

Occasionally laudable Practice has wondered if Old High is the New Low: if the decency and modesty valued by the Old High tradition now finds itself as the New Low in contemporary Anglicanism.  There is a need, we might suggest, for such an expression of Anglicanism in a cultural context rightly suspicious of 'Enthusiasm' while yet seeking meaning, a spiritual centre, and "that peace which the world cannot give", in an age of insecurity and fear.

Part of this Old High/New Low suggestion is that we should recover the meaning of the architecture of the older Anglican parish church, typified by the Georgian style, as described by Roger Scruton: "noble but bare and quiet". Noble, so as to call us to prayer, Word, and Sacrament.  Bare and quiet, so as to give space to meaningfully encounter and receive, rather than being overwhelmed by yet more visual noise and ideological demands.

Today's post, on this May Day holiday, is a form of meditation, reflecting on how the "noble but bare and quiet" architecture of the classical Anglican parish church - illustrated with examples of some historic Episcopal churches in the United States - coheres with the words of Cranmer's liturgy, drawing us out of the "epidemic of distraction" to attend to the One who is "the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom".

We begin with the prayer that draws Mattins and Evensong to a close, the Prayer of Saint Chrysostom:

Almighty God, who hast given us grace at this time with one accord to make our common supplications unto thee; and dost promise that when two or three are gathered together in thy Name thou wilt grant their requests: Fulfil now, O Lord, the desires and petitions of thy servants, as may be most expedient for them; granting us in this world knowledge of thy truth, and in the world to come life everlasting.

Here the purpose of common prayer is captured, orienting us to "the world to come", while yet commending our earthly existence - our "desires and petitions ... in this world" - to God.  There is a confidence to the offering of "our common supplications", but it is a confidence rooted not us but in God: "who hast given us grace ... dost promise".  And so, "noble but bare and quiet" is fitting architecture for the offering of common prayer.  Noble because our prayers are heard by Almighty God. Bare and quiet because it is all grace, and we have no delusions about ourselves and our needs: "We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep".

And to all thy people give thy heavenly grace; and specially to this congregation here present; that, with meek heart and due reverence, they may hear, and receive thy holy Word.

In these words from the Prayer for the Church Militant, we see it again: "meek heart and due reverence" is reflected in "noble but bare and quiet".  A fussy, showy, extravagant church interior is not meet.  It is not suggestive of the meek heart. Bare and quiet is a much more appropriate modesty.  We are to "hear, and receive thy holy Word": visual overload does not aid this. Bare and quiet leads us to attend. Noble - font, lectern, pews, pulpit, rails, Table, surplice that are, to use a good Anglican word, 'decent' - reminds us that the Word we hear and receive in Scripture, Sacrament, and prayer is divine, heavenly, eternal.  

Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that the words, which we have heard this day with our outward ears, may through thy grace be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, that they may bring forth in us the fruit of good living, to the honour and praise of thy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Cranmer was the author of this 'Table Prayer', one of the collects often used at the conclusion of the Ante-Communion.  It beautifully sets forth how common prayer is a means of grace: slowly, over a lifetime, absorbing Scripture as it is read in lessons, prayers, and praises.  The phrases "grafted inwardly" and "may bring forth in us ... fruit" are suggestive of how this process takes root and matures. The "fruit of good living" speaks of a life authentically but naturally and undramatically oriented towards the Good.  This too coheres with "noble but bare and quiet": serious but undemonstrative; the heart quietly attending to the Word week by week, over the years; shaping daily living and vocations after what is "godly, righteous, and sober".

There is, then, a rich theology and piety associated with a "noble but bare and quiet" setting for Cranmer's liturgy.  What is more, such a theology and piety can have contemporary resonance, in a cultural context in which noisy, confrontational religious and secularist Enthusiasm disrupt and disorder our common life while yet not presenting an attractive, persuasive, peaceable account of human flourishing.  

While many contemporary Anglican parish churches are rather less "bare and quiet" than our Georgian predecessors knew, it still remains the case that they tend to be rather more plain than some other historic Christian traditions, and more noble than free church and non-denominational traditions. Cherishing, rather than regretting, these characteristics can still be a means of shaping and communicating a Reformed Catholic piety. Likewise, it can also be embodied in the classical Anglican approach to the Church's teaching: the nobility of creedal truth meaningfully, thoughtfully proclaimed, with a quiet modesty regarding adiaphora.

And then there is Mattins and Evensong, long the most characteristic expression of Anglican piety.  The description "noble but bare and quiet" can also be applied to the content and experience of Prayer Book Morning and Evening Prayer on Sundays. It may be said Mattins with hymns and a sermon (Trollope comes to mind, "The services were decently and demurely read in their parish churches") or Choral Evensong, with the singing of the service, psalms, and canticles being a contemplative experience for the congregation.  The contrasts with High Mass or a charismatic praise service are obvious, but such contrasts emphasise the distinct nature of this Anglican piety and vocation, a piety and vocation particularly experienced in and nurtured by Sunday Mattins and Evensong.

Georgian style churches, Cranmer's words, Sunday Mattins and Evensong: they have, over the years, all fallen out of favour with various Anglicans movements (the Ecclesiologists, liturgical revisers, the Parish Communion movement) but they continue to offer a rich resource for a vibrant, meaningful piety and theology. Noble but bare and quiet.

(The photographs are of Old Trinity, Dorchester, Maryland; Abingdon Church, White Marsh, Virginia; and Old Wye Church, Maryland.)