In this essay Percy reflections on the ritual of ordination of priests.
The page will be updated as Percy adds material relevant to ministry, lay and ordained, in liturgical and other settings.
Showing posts with label New Parson's Handbook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Parson's Handbook. Show all posts
Friday, November 25, 2011
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Percy does posture, or: Standing up for Jesus?
Some readers (but not all) will remember an Anglicanism in which kneeling was the done thing. The bidding "Let us pray" was instantly and easily understood as an instruction to kneel, and we did. The opening prayers, the Collect, the intercessory prayers (aka "Prayer for the Church Militant"), the whole of the Thanksgiving and Consecration...if in doubt, we knelt.
One of the messages of the liturgical movement that hit the Church in the second half of the twentieth century was that we had been kneeling a bit too much. It was true. The one-sided emphasis on penitence and submission found in much Anglican liturgy was one of those camels we had swallowed from the Medieval Church while straining at sacrificial gnats. The ethos of Christian communal action implied in the New Testament, and lived out in the ancient Church, was less focussed on individual breast-beating than on the collective celebration of God's grace.
The resulting message had one startling central theme: stand up! We had been used to standing only for singing - presumably for practical reasons related to our diaphragms - as well as for the Gloria, the Gospel, and the Creed. These had left a clue behind about the meaning of such a posture. We rediscovered through the sixties the fairly natural coherence between a theology emphasizing the victory of the Resurrection and the liturgical norm of standing. The new texts and orders that were introduced around the Anglican world - Series I-III, Australia '69, '77 etc, A Liturgy for Africa - all implied or stated their alignment with such different understandings of posture.
Of course it was not all about standing. Each of standing, sitting and kneeling had a place in this revised set of understandings about how our bodies reflect our belief. Standing was for corporate prayer, including prayers of intercession and the Great Thanksgiving. Kneeling was only for specifically penitential or reflective and personal elements, such as private prayer and the corporate confession of sin. Sitting was for readings and sermon only, aside from waiting before and after the liturgy.
This was, however, an incomplete revolution. Even where the liturgical movement took deep hold, there was hesitation, or appropriate variation, about some specifics. Many have remained deeply connected to kneeling to receive Communion, for instance. While some clergy were being actively and carefully taught such understandings of the new liturgies, others were less well trained. And those who had become liturgical-movement purists were not thereby necessarily good educators or effective pastors.
The result is a mixed bag. In the Diocese of Melbourne, Australia, where Percy has recent and decades-old experience, the basic news is of back-sliding and mess. Where in the 1980s parishes of progressive Catholic mood were standing more and kneeling less, what is most striking is how often they are sitting. Without sufficient education or leadership, sitting has become a norm for corporate prayer of intercession in particular. There is no good reason for this at all, but a perfectly reasonable explanation: sitting is the flaccid via media for people no longer sure whether or stand or kneel, or why.
A related phenomenon is the disconnect between the posture of ministers and that of congregation. It is increasingly common that at times when kneeling might still be expected or encouraged, ministers actually remain standing. Example is, as always, a powerful teacher; where ministers do not kneel, people see little point.
Sitting does have its place, we have acknowledged. And there may be circumstances where that place is larger - where, for instance, the liturgy is celebrated with a more-than-usual emphasis on the meditative or reflective, as in the ethos connected with the community of Taizé. Yet otherwise Percy suggests sitting is, in the tradition of the Church catholic, intended for listening and waiting.
Liturgy is based on the idea that the physical disposition of objects, space and our own bodies actually does matter. There may be different specific opinions about posture, but the present indifference and confusion evident in the Australian Anglican Church, and some other branches of the Communion, is not a matter for celebration.
One of the messages of the liturgical movement that hit the Church in the second half of the twentieth century was that we had been kneeling a bit too much. It was true. The one-sided emphasis on penitence and submission found in much Anglican liturgy was one of those camels we had swallowed from the Medieval Church while straining at sacrificial gnats. The ethos of Christian communal action implied in the New Testament, and lived out in the ancient Church, was less focussed on individual breast-beating than on the collective celebration of God's grace.
The resulting message had one startling central theme: stand up! We had been used to standing only for singing - presumably for practical reasons related to our diaphragms - as well as for the Gloria, the Gospel, and the Creed. These had left a clue behind about the meaning of such a posture. We rediscovered through the sixties the fairly natural coherence between a theology emphasizing the victory of the Resurrection and the liturgical norm of standing. The new texts and orders that were introduced around the Anglican world - Series I-III, Australia '69, '77 etc, A Liturgy for Africa - all implied or stated their alignment with such different understandings of posture.
Of course it was not all about standing. Each of standing, sitting and kneeling had a place in this revised set of understandings about how our bodies reflect our belief. Standing was for corporate prayer, including prayers of intercession and the Great Thanksgiving. Kneeling was only for specifically penitential or reflective and personal elements, such as private prayer and the corporate confession of sin. Sitting was for readings and sermon only, aside from waiting before and after the liturgy.
This was, however, an incomplete revolution. Even where the liturgical movement took deep hold, there was hesitation, or appropriate variation, about some specifics. Many have remained deeply connected to kneeling to receive Communion, for instance. While some clergy were being actively and carefully taught such understandings of the new liturgies, others were less well trained. And those who had become liturgical-movement purists were not thereby necessarily good educators or effective pastors.
The result is a mixed bag. In the Diocese of Melbourne, Australia, where Percy has recent and decades-old experience, the basic news is of back-sliding and mess. Where in the 1980s parishes of progressive Catholic mood were standing more and kneeling less, what is most striking is how often they are sitting. Without sufficient education or leadership, sitting has become a norm for corporate prayer of intercession in particular. There is no good reason for this at all, but a perfectly reasonable explanation: sitting is the flaccid via media for people no longer sure whether or stand or kneel, or why.
A related phenomenon is the disconnect between the posture of ministers and that of congregation. It is increasingly common that at times when kneeling might still be expected or encouraged, ministers actually remain standing. Example is, as always, a powerful teacher; where ministers do not kneel, people see little point.
Sitting does have its place, we have acknowledged. And there may be circumstances where that place is larger - where, for instance, the liturgy is celebrated with a more-than-usual emphasis on the meditative or reflective, as in the ethos connected with the community of Taizé. Yet otherwise Percy suggests sitting is, in the tradition of the Church catholic, intended for listening and waiting.
Liturgy is based on the idea that the physical disposition of objects, space and our own bodies actually does matter. There may be different specific opinions about posture, but the present indifference and confusion evident in the Australian Anglican Church, and some other branches of the Communion, is not a matter for celebration.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
God, Gluten-free?
A satirical version of a pew-sheet that has circulated over the past decade offers advice concerning the options available to the contemporary communicant:
Anglicans can arguably consider gluten-free options for the Eucharist because the Prayer Book rubric states “it shall suffice that the Bread be such as is usual to be eaten” which allows alignment or correlation with cultural change; but it goes on to say “but the best and purest Wheat Bread that conveniently may be gotten”, both urging conscientious attention to the quality of the bread, and privileging use of wheat. What the tradition seems to have in mind is the desire to use what Jesus used at the Last Supper, instituting the Eucharist. The Lambeth Quadrilateral speaks of “unfailing use…of the elements ordained by him”.
Roman Catholics are officially less free about choosing Eucharistic bread. The General Instruction on the Roman Missal (2000) states: “The bread for celebrating the Eucharist must be made only from wheat, must be recently baked, and, according to the ancient tradition of the Latin Church, must be unleavened.”
The insistence that the bread be wheat, noted in both traditions if not held with equal insistence, may well be a historical mistake, if intended as strict imitation of the Last Supper, the accounts of which do not specify of what the bread was made. For that matter, the species of grain known in Jesus’ time are not the same ones we have today; wheat in particular underwent repeated hybridization even in the pre-industrial world, let alone after the more aggressive changes of industrial agriculture and recent plant science, now including genetic modification. So it is not even possible to know exactly what Jesus used, let alone use it.
In slightly later Rabbinic traditions and since, unleavened bread – matzah – is made from the same grains that are otherwise prohibited at Passover, because they create natural yeast cultures and leaven—and hence bread: wheat varieties, including spelt and emmer, as well as barley. In subsequent history, rye and oats have certainly been included in this obligation, although they may not have grown in ancient Judea. Some rabbis included rice. In fact yeast itself is allowed at Passover, since it is involved in the fermentation of wine; but while yeast-derived wine is allowed, grain-derived drinks like beer and whisky are not.
So although it is likely that the bread of Jesus’ Passover would have been made from an ancient wheat variety, it is not stretching things too far to say that other ancient Jews, and hence early Christians also, may have eaten bread made from any of these grains.
Why then the more restrictive view in Roman Catholic circles?
In the Summa Theologiae Thomas Aquinas argues not only from the superior quality of wheat, and from the awkward ground that Augustine of Hippo had viewed biblical references to barley - which was admittedly cheaper and coarser - as indicating the harshness of the Mosaic Law. This is a little ironic since the insistence on unleavened wheat bread is supposed to reflect the Mosaic Law too!
Thomas' prescriptive advice about wheat apparently carries morewheat weight in Roman Catholicism than the ambiguity of the biblical texts. Anglicans will object that what cannot be established scripturally ought not to be insisted on for all and everywhere, even if customary for some. While wheat may be very appropriate matter for the sacrament, it is dubious to conclude that St Thomas' preferences and St Augustine's attitudes to barley (and to Judaism) should trump provisions at the Eucharist that have their own real claim to historical authenticity, and make sense in the present.
To receive an ordinary, unleavened Communion wafer, kindly wink your right eye as the minister approaches. For a certified, organic, whole-grain wafer, wink your left eye. For low-salt, low-fat bread, close both eyes for the remainder of the service. For gluten-free bread, blink both eyes rapidly while looking at the ceiling.Blinking aside, this isn't so far from reality in some places. Such announcements arise of course from the prevalence of coeliac disease, which is four times more common than fifty years ago, even taking into account different patterns of diagnosis and reporting. The reason for this new prevalence are not certain, but there is real suspicion that the kind of modern hard wheat we now eat in great quantity, and/or the presence of gluten and other wheat derivatives in other products, has triggered the spread of this auto-immune disorder. There are also much more common, if less critical, forms of allergy or intolerance to modern bread wheat found in a fair proportion of the population.
Anglicans can arguably consider gluten-free options for the Eucharist because the Prayer Book rubric states “it shall suffice that the Bread be such as is usual to be eaten” which allows alignment or correlation with cultural change; but it goes on to say “but the best and purest Wheat Bread that conveniently may be gotten”, both urging conscientious attention to the quality of the bread, and privileging use of wheat. What the tradition seems to have in mind is the desire to use what Jesus used at the Last Supper, instituting the Eucharist. The Lambeth Quadrilateral speaks of “unfailing use…of the elements ordained by him”.
Roman Catholics are officially less free about choosing Eucharistic bread. The General Instruction on the Roman Missal (2000) states: “The bread for celebrating the Eucharist must be made only from wheat, must be recently baked, and, according to the ancient tradition of the Latin Church, must be unleavened.”
The insistence that the bread be wheat, noted in both traditions if not held with equal insistence, may well be a historical mistake, if intended as strict imitation of the Last Supper, the accounts of which do not specify of what the bread was made. For that matter, the species of grain known in Jesus’ time are not the same ones we have today; wheat in particular underwent repeated hybridization even in the pre-industrial world, let alone after the more aggressive changes of industrial agriculture and recent plant science, now including genetic modification. So it is not even possible to know exactly what Jesus used, let alone use it.
In slightly later Rabbinic traditions and since, unleavened bread – matzah – is made from the same grains that are otherwise prohibited at Passover, because they create natural yeast cultures and leaven—and hence bread: wheat varieties, including spelt and emmer, as well as barley. In subsequent history, rye and oats have certainly been included in this obligation, although they may not have grown in ancient Judea. Some rabbis included rice. In fact yeast itself is allowed at Passover, since it is involved in the fermentation of wine; but while yeast-derived wine is allowed, grain-derived drinks like beer and whisky are not.
So although it is likely that the bread of Jesus’ Passover would have been made from an ancient wheat variety, it is not stretching things too far to say that other ancient Jews, and hence early Christians also, may have eaten bread made from any of these grains.
Why then the more restrictive view in Roman Catholic circles?
In the Summa Theologiae Thomas Aquinas argues not only from the superior quality of wheat, and from the awkward ground that Augustine of Hippo had viewed biblical references to barley - which was admittedly cheaper and coarser - as indicating the harshness of the Mosaic Law. This is a little ironic since the insistence on unleavened wheat bread is supposed to reflect the Mosaic Law too!
Thomas' prescriptive advice about wheat apparently carries more
Friday, March 19, 2010
Daily Prayer
The page will be updated as Percy adds material relevant to the forms of communal prayer variously known as the Daily Office, Liturgy of the Hours, or simply Morning and Evening Prayer.
Baptism
The page will be updated as Percy adds material relevant to baptism and related issues of Christian initiation.
Essays
This page will be updated with original material and with links to essays Percy commends to the reader concerning liturgy and its uses and abuses.
About Percy is an introduction to the New Parson's Handbook.
I Don't Believe in Worship (1) questions the contemporary use of the term 'worship' and asserts the necessity of certain core elements in Christian liturgy.
I Don't Believe in Worship (2) reflects on the biblical roots of Christian worship and suggests the centrality of Eucharist and Daily Prayer, as opposed to generic 'worship services'.
Changing the Oils traces the origins of the current form of Chrism Eucharist and suggests reform.
The Date of Christmas discusses the origins of the December 25 (and January 6) date of Christmas. A version of this essay, somewhat freely edited by the publisher of Bible Review where it appeared, attracts some annual interest on the Biblical Archaeology Review web-site.
About Percy is an introduction to the New Parson's Handbook.
I Don't Believe in Worship (1) questions the contemporary use of the term 'worship' and asserts the necessity of certain core elements in Christian liturgy.
I Don't Believe in Worship (2) reflects on the biblical roots of Christian worship and suggests the centrality of Eucharist and Daily Prayer, as opposed to generic 'worship services'.
Changing the Oils traces the origins of the current form of Chrism Eucharist and suggests reform.
The Date of Christmas discusses the origins of the December 25 (and January 6) date of Christmas. A version of this essay, somewhat freely edited by the publisher of Bible Review where it appeared, attracts some annual interest on the Biblical Archaeology Review web-site.
About Percy
The New Parson's Handbook (aka 'Percy') is inspired by Percy Dearmer's The Parson's Handbook (1899).
This manual reflects the side of Catholic Anglicanism which investigated and retrieved older English traditions, rather than imitating 19th century Roman and continental practice as a basis for Catholic renewal in the Church of England. Only partially correctly, it has been viewed as a manifesto of the "Sarum", as opposed to Roman, form of Anglo-Catholicism.
The Parson's Handbook is still worth reading - sometimes dated in detail, it remains relevant in spirit. It does not have all the detail of Fortescue's Ritual Notes, having deeper concerns than mere formality. It connects liturgy with values, including social justice - Dearmer is as critical of the unjust labour relations embedded in ugly Church furnishings as in their aesthetic failure.
More than a hundred years later, specifics have changed but Percy's passion remains relevant. Anglicanism has seen the Oxford Movement and the Liturgical Movement come, and in large part go, with mixed and incomplete results. Meanwhile the Church seems to face larger issues than liturgical nicety, and flails around seeking fresh (oops) solutions to its failures.
This site is not for reminiscences about apparelled amices or musings on the length or surplices, but an attempt to make connections between past and future, and between liturgy and life. I start with liturgy though - because one of the convictions informing the New Handbook is that liturgy has too often become a sort of neutral medium for communication of ideas, good and bad, where in fact it should be a source for the Church's mission.
Percy appears again here to encourage further and deeper thought about liturgy, with a Catholic flavour and historical interest but with generosity of spirit and concern for mission including justice. Frank opinions are offered in charity, with openness to learning and change. Those who are not against us are for us!
This manual reflects the side of Catholic Anglicanism which investigated and retrieved older English traditions, rather than imitating 19th century Roman and continental practice as a basis for Catholic renewal in the Church of England. Only partially correctly, it has been viewed as a manifesto of the "Sarum", as opposed to Roman, form of Anglo-Catholicism.
The Parson's Handbook is still worth reading - sometimes dated in detail, it remains relevant in spirit. It does not have all the detail of Fortescue's Ritual Notes, having deeper concerns than mere formality. It connects liturgy with values, including social justice - Dearmer is as critical of the unjust labour relations embedded in ugly Church furnishings as in their aesthetic failure.
More than a hundred years later, specifics have changed but Percy's passion remains relevant. Anglicanism has seen the Oxford Movement and the Liturgical Movement come, and in large part go, with mixed and incomplete results. Meanwhile the Church seems to face larger issues than liturgical nicety, and flails around seeking fresh (oops) solutions to its failures.
This site is not for reminiscences about apparelled amices or musings on the length or surplices, but an attempt to make connections between past and future, and between liturgy and life. I start with liturgy though - because one of the convictions informing the New Handbook is that liturgy has too often become a sort of neutral medium for communication of ideas, good and bad, where in fact it should be a source for the Church's mission.
Percy appears again here to encourage further and deeper thought about liturgy, with a Catholic flavour and historical interest but with generosity of spirit and concern for mission including justice. Frank opinions are offered in charity, with openness to learning and change. Those who are not against us are for us!
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