Fr. Robert Taft (1932-2018) on the liturgy

Fr. Robert Francis Taft, S.J., died Friday in Weston, Mass., where he had retired in 2011 after 46 years at the Oriental Institute of Rome. Born in Rhode Island, he was best known as a Roman Catholic scholar of Eastern liturgies and was in fact a priest in Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, an Eastern Rite church in communion with Rome. The Pray Tell blog posted an obituary by John F. Baldovin, S.J., a friend and colleague who stayed in touch with Fr Taft after his retirement.

Fr. Taft was a highly knowledgeable, influential and opinionated contributor to the postwar ecumenical movement that called itself “Liturgical Reform”. While for the Roman church this specifically meant bringing the liturgy into the vernacular, the broader movement sought to bring new evidence, insights and opinions to change the liturgy in the direction the reformers believed best. Over the past 70 year, this movement that impacted almost the entire swath of liturgical Western Christianity.

I knew of Taft’s work from his definitive 1986 book The Liturgy of the Hours in East and West, which is on the future reading list of my ecumenical liturgy reading group. As a student of liturgy — rather than a scholar making original contributions — today I can only scratch the surface of assessing his contribution.

(For those that wonder why I spend so much time on liturgy in a music blog, please bear with me).

Pray Tell also posted the 1985 speech Fr. Taft gave upon receiving an award for his liturgical studies. From this 8,800 word speech, I will (cherry) pick some on how this priest and scholar found that a proper liturgy is important for congregational worship:

…what the Vatican II reforms initiated was a return of the liturgy to the people. … But the only way it can remain popular is if we leave it alone. … What ordinary people in ordinary parishes need is familiarity, sameness, the stability of a ritual tradition that can be achieved only be repetition, and that will not tolerate change every time the pastor reads a new article. The only way people are going to perceive liturgy as their own, and therefore participate in it, is when they know what is going to happen next.
…
So let me enunciate a liturgical principle: ritual – or call it order of worship, if you belong to a tradition that dislikes the word ritual – a certain stability in the déroulement of worship, far from precluding spontaneity and congregational participation, is its condition sine qua non, as is indeed true of any social event. Italian crowds spontaneously shout “brava” to divas at the opera – but not in the middle of an aria – because the conventions of civility dictate that there is a time and place for everything.
…
Like medieval cathedrals, liturgies were created not as monuments to human creativity, but as acts of worship. The object of worship is not self-expression, not even self-fulfillment, but God. “he must increase, I must decrease,” John the Baptist said of Jesus (Jn 3:30) and that is an excellent principle for liturgical ministers. Anyway, experience shows that most spontaneity is spontaneous only the first time around. Thereafter it always sounds the same. Furthermore, most people are not especially creative in any other aspect of the existence, and there is no reason to think that they will be when it comes to liturgy. They can, however, be drawn to participate in a common heritage far nobler and richer than the creation of anyone of us individually. What we need is not further to reinvent the wheel, not to reshape our liturgy every time we read a new article, but just to take what we have and use it very well.
…
In other words, liturgy is a common tradition, and ideal of prayer to which I must rise, and not some private game that I am free to reduce to the level of my own banality. And when the rite has something I do not understand, especially if it is something that Christians in almost every tradition, East and West, have been doing for about a millennium, then perhaps my initial instinct should be to suspect some deficiency in my own understanding, before immediately proceeding to excise whatever it is that has had the affrontery to escape the limits of my intelligence.

Requiescat in pace.

How many ways can we say Gloria Patri?

This semester, I've been doing sung morning and evening prayer on campus. One of the interesting challenges is that sometimes we sing from different hymnals or liturgies in a single service, and thus we sing two (or even three) different Gloria Patri. (Similar changes have been made in the Gloria in Excelsis, but that’s a topic for another time).

The Latin version is nearly 15 centuries old:

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto:
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in sæcula sæculorum. Amen.

New Advent says it was universal throughout christendom by the 17th century. For example, Shepherd (1950: 9) says about the Gloria Patri after the psalms:

Gloria Patri (see commentary, p. 8). The use of this doxology has been traditional in the Church from the earliest times, and is intended to give to the Psalms a Christian reference and intention. 

Blunt (1889: 186) dates it even earlier

Clement of Alexandria, who wrote before the end of the second century, refers to the use of this hymn under this form, …“giving glory to the one Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,” and a hymn of about the same date is printed by Dr. Bouth, in which there is an evident trace of the same custom :… “Praise we the Father and Son, and Holy Spirit of God." It is also referred to even earlier by Justin Martyr. 

The 14th and 15th century manuscripts of the Sarum Missal (Legg, 1916: 23) list this text as

chorus. Gloria patri et filio et spiritui sancto.
clerici. Et laus et honor potestas et imperium.
chorus. Sicut erat in principio et nuncet semper et in secula seculorum amen.

400 years of the Book of Common Prayer

In the Daily Office, Cranmer’s original 1549 Booke of Common Praier uses this translation:

Glory be to the father, and to the sonne, and to the holye ghost. As it was in the begynning, is now, and ever shal be, world without ende. Amen.

Except for spelling, we see that in the CoE prayer books through 1662, as well as the (unapproved) 1928 Book of Common Prayer. It’s also in the American prayer books from 1789 to 1928 as

Minister. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost;
Answer. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

And then came Vatican II.

Vatican II/ICET/ICEL

After Vatican II, the Roman Catholic Church began a systematic translation of the liturgy into English (and other local languages). As Hatchett (1988: 132) notes in his summary of Anglican liturgy revisions since the 1950s

Various provinces have participated in ecumenical groups developing common translations of texts (International Consultation on English Texts, or its equivalent for other languages) and have adopted common lectionaries, based on either the post­ Vatican II Roman lectionary or that developed by the Joint Liturgical Group.

In the 1972 and 1975 proposed texts from the International Consultation on English Texts (published in Prayers We Have in Common), the Gloria Patri was rendered as

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: as in the beginning, so now, and for ever. Amen.

However, this did not reflect what had already been used in the 1971 Roman Catholic Liturgy of the Hours:

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

This is, of course, also what ended up in the 1979 American prayer book.

Over the years, I was probably not the only one who was confused that both the Rite I (traditional) and Rite II (modern) liturgies have used the same GP. On the one hand, it made sense for simplifying the task of a priest celebrating both Rite I and Rite II in the same parish (a common issue in the 1980s and 1990s). However, it also meant that this part of Rite I is consistently different from the previous 400 years of English language liturgy — even though most of the rest of Rite I is intended to be similar to the historic liturgy.

One of the sources of confusion is that Rite I services can use the 1928 Book of Common Prayer Daily Office canticles (and psalms), as in Hymnal 1940 (and now the Book of Common Praise 2017) — as well as any earlier American, English (or other) resources. So in singing the Daily Office, it matters whether we copy a canticle from H40, BCP17, or the Rite I part of H82.

21st Century Corrections

The Roman Catholic church accounts for more than one third of American Christians. After its 2008 English language correction to its liturgy of the mass  — the Roman Missal (3rd ed.) implemented in 2011 — around 2010 the American Catholic bishops started a related update of its Liturgy of the Hours. However, this new liturgy has not been officially approved, and I was unable to identify its plans for the Gloria Patri.

However, more directly relevant for American Anglicans, the ACNA has released drafts of Texts for Common Prayer, the liturgy its is scheduled to approve in June 2019. In the liturgy of the Daily Office — Morning and Evening Prayer — the new Gloria Patri is rendered as

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

In other words, we are almost full circle. The Gloria Patri of 1549-1928 is back, with one change: consistent with late 20th century contemporary language, “Ghost” has been banished and replaced everywhere with “Spirit.” Under the circumstances, it seems like the most compatible revision of the historic liturgy.

With only about 100,000 members, the ACNA might seem lonely make its change on its own. However, it’s merely emulating the (gently modernized) language used by the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod, with its two most recent liturgy books: Lutheran Worship (1982) and Lutheran Service Book (2006). While the LCMS is smaller than the more liberal ECLA, it is still larger than the Episcopal Church and ACNA combined.

Is this liturgical change by the ACNA the first step toward ecumenical cooperation with the most liturgically conservative of the largest Protestant denominations?

References

• Blunt, John Henry, The Annotated Book of Common Prayer, rev. ed., London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1889.
• Hatchett, Marion J., “Prayer Books,” in Stephen Sykes and John Booty, The Study of Anglicanism (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 1988), 121-133.
• Legg, J. Wickham, ed. The Sarum Missal. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1916.
• Prayers We Have in Common: Agreed Liturgical Texts Prepared by the International Consultation on English Texts, enlarged and revised ed., Philadelphia, Fortress, 1972.
• Prayers We Have in Common: Agreed Liturgical Texts Prepared by the International Consultation on English Texts, 2nd rev. ed., Philadelphia, Fortress, 1975.
• Shepherd, Massey Hamilton, Jr., The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary. New York: Oxford University Press, 1950

Cultural universals in liturgical worship

The last three Sundays, I've worshipped in Spain, at home in California and Australia. The juxtaposition has given me additional insights into liturgical variations (and similarities) between cultures, and thus the degree to which churches should (or at least have) adapt their worship to the local culture.

When comparing two services, there are several possible variables: language, the order of service, what is said, the role of music and how those leading the service (and those in the pews) actually worship.

Language matters, but within the Western liturgical churches there is still a common heritage to the medieval Latin service. For example, both my wife and I have found strong affinity to service in Germany’s Roman Catholic church — we have a similar childhood and adult experience with high church Episcopalian (and now Anglican) worship, but I speak some German and she doesn’t. When I first visited Cologne cathedral in 1980, the service felt very familiar as the service followed what I'd known as a kid. My wife — who attended a small town mass with friends two years ago while I was traveling on business — says that the service she attended what quite recognizable from our childhood services.

But language isn’t everything. I've heard some claim that a Christian from the early church would recognize our 21st century services. That seems a bit much, but I certainly think an Italian from the early Middle Ages would recognize an Anglo-Catholic service more than an Englishman from Elizabethan England would recognize a nondenom praise band service.

This morning in Spain, despite not speaking the language, I recognized the order of lessons (Isaiah, Romans, Matthew) that would have been used at a US Catholic church or by Protestants under the Revised Common Lectionary year A. I also recognized the Lord’s Prayer and prayers of the people, and the Alleluia was the same one I’ve sung for decades (albeit with the syllables broken differently).

What was most different was that instead of hymns, the singing consisted of a series of chants by the cantor, with the congregation singing an antiphon after each phrase. The cantor tried to teach the congregation the antiphons, and I found (despite the language) I was able to sing along when the words matched the handout.

However, in a (IMHO foolish) attempt to save money or the planet, the handout only covered what was different for the season of Advent. There were several antiphons that were not handed out — perhaps they were familiar to regular worshippers — but the net effect was to exclude visitors from participation in the worship.

I had hoped from the handout we would sing (in Catalan) perhaps the most universal Advent hymn

Veniu, veniu, oh Emmanuel,
sou l'esperança d'Israel
que en trist exili ací tothora
redempció de vós implora.
Exulta! Exulta! Israel,
a tu vindrà l'Emmnanuel.

Veniu, esclat del nostre hivern,
Oh Saviesa de l'Etern!
De vostra llum el món fretura
per retrobar-vos dalt l'altura.
Exulta! Exulta! Israel,
a tu vindrà l'Emmnanuel.

Veniu, oh Rei Omnipotent,
d'antics oracles compliment.
Veniu, refeu nostra flaquesa,
Déu eternal, font de bonesa.
Exulta! Exulta! Israel,
a tu vindrà l'Emmanuel.

but apparently that was for an earlier Sunday.

In Australia, I attended two communion services: one fro the 1995 Australian prayer book at an Anglo-Catholic parish, and the other using the 1662 BCP at an evangelical one. Not surprisingly, the former used the ICEL translation of the Sanctus (“…God of power and might”) and other parts of the ordinary; the latter had the Elizabethan words, even if in an unfamiliar order. So the latter was nominally more similar to Anglo-Catholic worship from Rite I or the 1928 BCP.

But if you ignored the words and watched what people did, the liturgical practice was just the opposite. At the Anglo-Catholic (modern language) church, nearly everyone made the sign of the cross and most kneeled at the familiar parts of the service. At the evangelical (traditional language) church, there were no kneelers and no sign of the cross; it also had a sermon more than 30 minutes long (versus 12 minutes at my home parish).

Still, it seems as though there is a distinct subset of the Western church today that retains the liturgy and practices of the pre-Reformation church. For these Christians, worshipping in another denomination with similar liturgical style (e.g. at a baptism, wedding or in a mixed marriage) will be comfortable, as will a chaplain’s service at a college, in a hospital or the military.

The issue of East and West seems more insurmountable. My Orthodox (ex-Episcopalian) friend claims there are many similarities, but in my one visit to his (Greek) church they were hard to find. Many of the non-ethnic Orthodox parishes in the U.S. use familiar words (where applicable) and so at such churches there might be more recognizable similarities.

Still, there seem fewer opportunities for common ground. In the 13th century, the emperor Michael Paeologus — founder of the last dynasty of the Byzantine Empire — tried to reunify the Eastern church with Rome barely 200 years after the Great Schism. However, the laity (and some clergy) of the Greek church sabotaged his efforts because they didn’t want to give up their distinct worship style in the name of unity with Rome — even though it ultimately meant surrendering the empire to the Ottoman invaders.

Thus we must constantly pray for healing the divisions in Christ’s church, even if such healing (like the second coming) may not happen in our lifetimes.

Funeral for a Catholic traditionalist

Like many American Christians, I was surprised and shocked by the Feb. 13 announcement of the death of Justice Antonin Scalia. We were traveling during the funeral, and so caught the rebroadcast on C-SPAN after we got home.

Some 3,000 attended the service at America’s largest Catholic church, the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. In the funeral homily, the celebrant — his son Rev. Paul Scalia — described his father’s faith:

God blessed Dad with a deep Catholic faith: The conviction that Christ's presence and power continue in the world today through His body, the Church. He loved the clarity and coherence of the church's teachings. He treasured the church's ceremonies, especially the beauty of her ancient worship. He trusted the power of her sacraments as the means of salvation as Christ working within him for his salvation.

The homily included a mixture of theology and eulogy, consistent with a letter by Justice Scalia, as quoted by his son:

Even when the deceased was an admirable person, indeed, especially when the deceased was an admirable person, praise for his virtues can cause us to forget that we are praying for, and giving thanks for, God’s inexplicable mercy to a sinner.

According to Donald Cardinal Wuerl, the services were in keeping with the wishes of his widow and his family.  The program was posted at several locations, including the Corpus Christi Watershed blog. The readings were Wisdom 3:1-9, Psalm 23, Romans 5:5-11, and Matthew 11: 25-30 with the texts (not surprisingly) taken from the New American Standard.

Not all the music was listed in the program. According to one of the Catholic musicians at the Church Music Association of America, the musical pieces were:

• Hymn "O God Our Help in Ages Past"
• Collect is sung by Father Scalia
• Psalm 23:1-6: sung by the National Shrine choir
• Verse: sung by the National Shrine choir
• Offertory motet: Beati quorum via (Stanford)
• Preface dialogue: chanted
• Sanctus: XVIII (chanted, with organ)
• Memorial Acclamation: When... (chanted, with organ)
• Amen (chanted, with organ)
• Our Father (chanted sonorously by all present)
• Peace Dialogue (chanted)
• Agnus Dei - Victoria, Missa Quarti Toni National Shrine choir
• A treble schola chants the Communion verse "Lux Aeterna" according to the Graduale Romanum
• Communion Hymn: Jesus, My Lord, My God, My All (Faber)
• Communion motets: Franck's Panis Angelicus, Mozart's Ave Verum
• Post-communion dialogue: chanted
• In Paradisum: English, sung by the National Shrine choir
• Recessional: O God Beyond All Praising (Holst)

I must say that I only recognized the processional hymn, the first communion motet and the Holst tune for the recessional (but not its 1982 text). However, the chant for the Lord’s Prayer seemed to share a common origin with the “very ancient” Anglican chant for this prayer (H40: 722).

Communion was administered in one kind. The bulletin quoted a 1996 USCCB policy that discouraged non-Catholics from coming to communion — except for a few specific denominations (including Orthodox Christians) who were allowed but “urged to respect the discipline of their own Churches.”

Scalia was (not surprisingly) a liturgical traditionalist, with a preference for the Latin mass. However, the plainchant in the first part of the service (what we Anglicans call the liturgy of the word) seem to be taken from the modernized 21st century American Catholic liturgy — with the introit and other chants typical of a modern American RCC parish.

I was not the only one struck with the modernity of the service. Catholic organist and blogger Jeff Ostrowski wrote:

It’s difficult to understand why the Mass was Ordinary Form since Justice Scalia was known to attend the Extraordinary Form exclusively. Moreover, while the musical selections were (generally speaking) fine, they were nothing compared to Requiem settings by Victoria, Guerrero, Morales, and so forth. Perhaps the problem is me. I just find the traditional Requiem so powerful & consoling, anything else can’t help but fall short.

While many of us liturgists and church musicians have our preferences for our personal church services, it’s important to put it in perspective: there’s nothing in the choice of the form that would make one iota of difference in the disposition of our eternal soul. If the service was consistent with the family’s wishes — perhaps to make it more approachable to the nation’s 70 million Catholics — then their liturgical choices must be respected and honored.

Antonin Gregory Scalia (1936-2016): Requiescat in pace.

Non-Sunday worship

At Pray Tell, a Catholic monk from Minnesota, lamented the light attendance at Saturday’s services for the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. And I discovered that the Assumption (called the Dormition of the Theotokos) is a big deal for our Eastern friends — one of Twelve Great Feasts — as my Anglo-Orthodox (now more Orthodox than Anglican) book club was nearly deserted Friday as the Orthodox

It’s not a day I ever remember celebrating as a lifelong Protestant. August 15 is listed (by TEC and CoE) as a Holy Day for Mary†. I think it’s safe to say that the more Reformed wing of the Anglican Communion do not ascribe a supernatural assumption of Mary’s body into heaven, even if some individual Anglo-Catholic parishes do.

However, Father Anthony Ruff makes a more general point:

[Modern Catholics believe] holy days aren’t that important anymore, and liturgical time should not interrupt real time, which is what happens in one’s real (and very busy) life in the secular world.
…
We still kept the holy days of obligation in the tiny parish where I grew up in southern Minnesota. … But miss Mass? Not on your life.
…
The holy day liturgy said, more than any religion class or episcopal statement could, something about the claim the church makes on us.
…
“We have our own schedule,” the liturgy was saying to us, “and it’s not the world’s schedule.” Just think for a moment what that said about Christian identity and the church’s relationship to broader society. It said it especially strongly when two obligatory days fell inconveniently a day apart, Saturday plus Sunday, or Sunday plus Monday.

The holy days of obligation are there to form us in an alternative narrative. The liturgy tells us that it has its own integrity on its own terms. The liturgy is countercultural, not by behaving like an obnoxious culture-warrior, but simply by being itself.
…
That’s too bad. I wish we could put Ascension back on Thursday, and maybe even Epiphany back on the 12th day of Christmas. And tell everyone that God is still God, even on Saturdays and Mondays.

He is talking to me. There are only three church holidays I have regularly observed midweek over the past 30-40 years: Christmas, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. (And I’m not very good about Good Friday). Yes, I’ve been to Holy Innocents and Epiphany services (it helps this is during a slow time of the year), and as a tourist to England we would always try to catch an Evening Prayer at the cathedral we visited. But I can’t recall a single Annunciation, Ascension or Transfiguration service. (There might have been an All Saints’s Day — as with Epiphany, there are good hymns.)

At the same time, there’s a chicken-and-egg dilemma. During my Lutheran period, our choir sang at Epiphany, so we were all there. I can’t say that most of the parishes I’ve attended have midweek services for Holy Days (except for Thanksgiving, a local favorite).

As a suburban Anglican, I don’t think it’s realistic to try to match the RCC (let alone the Orthodox) for the frequency or intensity of our midweek Holy Days. Instead, I would build up the adherence to the Daily Office – whether personal or corporate — and remind worshippers of these important days by using the collects and readings that are designated to educate us about these days.

† Footnote: On Friday, Issues Etc. rebroadcast an August 15, 2013 broadcast — with the Missouri Synod's director of worship — on why the Lutheran church remembers the Blessed Virgin Mary on this date. Rev. Will Weedon noted that the Protestant Reformers rejected the idea of Mary (and the saints) hearing our prayers as intercessors between Christians and God. However, he said, the Lutherans [like the Anglicans] continue to commemorate the saints in their annual liturgical calendar.

The sacred and the mundane

My family was recently visiting a (Catholic) medieval gothic cathedral in Europe, when it turned out it was time for the weekly organ concert. I stopped to listen, and was pleased to see (from the program afterwards) that the final two pieces were, in fact, by J.S. Bach. The organ was obviously the finest in town and for miles around.

Alas, less than 10% of the audience was under 40. That's probably true for most churches in Europe — and many I’ve seen in the U.S., too.

Still, it reminds me of a time — less than a generation ago — where church music was something unique. In the medium-sized church (ca. 200 ASA) in the medium-sized town (perhaps 80,000) where we worshipped, the best organist in town was at our church. I’d hazard to say that 4 of the 5 best organists in town were at our church. And the church where I grew up in a big city, the organist (and choir director) had one of the best music jobs in town.

We also had the best organ in town. It was nothing compared to the organ we visited (which apparently still has pipes from the 16th to 18th centuries), but it was obviously better than any organ that anyone had at home.

Today, children and young adults don’t listen to organ music or even classical music in general. Most churches play CCM because they believe that’s what people want, and it’s certainly plausible to conclude that few people are breaking down the door demanding organ music.

The problem is, the praise band is not set apart from the world — it is not only in the world, but (except for the J-word) it’s more or less of the world. Not only is the sound comparable to what you’d hear on the radio or in a bar, but (with one exception) the praise bands I’ve heard aren’t as good (even as the band in the corner dive bar.)

So instead of church music that is the awe-inspiring, sacred, set apart from the world — such as the Messiah or a great organ concert — what we have today is the profane of the ordinary life of the world (to use Durkheim’s formulation). And this profane (i.e. ordinary) music is rather mundane.

I’m not sure I have an answer here, but this seems like yet another reason why many of my most Anglican friends are — as the Episcopal and Anglican denominations teeter around them — skipping Catholicism and heading straight to the Orthodox faith. The liturgy is not my cup of tea, but (like the theology) has retained a millennial-old emphasis of being set apart, of being organized around the holy mysteries, rather than adapting and bending to the contemporary culture.

Credo: We do NOT believe

As seems to have been mandated (or at least strongly encouraged) by the ACNA, our parish has been using the proposed ACNA liturgy since Advent 1 of this liturgical year. On the one hand, it kills all the traditional language of the 1662/1789/1892/1928 prayer books; on the other hand, in terms of theology and form, it is more faithful to them than was the contemporary language of the 1979 ECUSA prayer book.

I Believe

Even after two months, there’s one thing I’ve been unable to accept: the plural form of the Nicene Creed. The 1549 liturgy was created from the creed of the Sarum rite, which begins:

Credo in unum Deum, Patrem Omnipotentem, factorem cœli et terra, visibilium omnium et invisibilium.

Et in unum Dominum Jesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia sæcula: Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, Genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri, per quem omnia facta sunt.

In fact, the word “creed” comes from the credo that begins it. Credo is the latin word for “I believe.”

The Cranmer translation of the liturgy set the standard for all other English-language Protestant liturgical worship. It was not just the Methodist church when it split off from the Church of England, but it also was used for the English-language liturgy of the Presbyterian church (coming from Geneva) and the Lutheran church (coming from Germany and Scandinavia).

If you attended any American Protestant worship through the mid-1970s, you would hear Cranmer’s words (with the 1789 ECUSA modernized spellings):

I believe in one God,
the Father Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
and of all things visible and invisible;

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,
the only begotten Son of God,
begotten of his Father before all worlds,
God of God, Light of Light,
very God of very God,
begotten, not made,
being of one substance with the Father;
by whom all things were made;

This is the text (for example) in the 1941 The Lutheran Hymnal, used by the Missouri Synod until their 1982 hymnal. (Being slightly anti-Papist, the Lutherans did change “one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church” to “one Holy Christian and Apostolic Church.”)

We Believe

The use of “we believe" came to ECUSA in the 1970s with the 1979 prayer book via the ICET. As Hatchett (1980: 29) writes in his 670 page commentary on that book:

For rites in contemporary language the last revision of the Prayers We Have in Common: Agreed Liturgical Texts Prepared by the International Consultation on English Texts [ICET] is used for common texts, with a few exceptions. … The word “men” has been deleted from a phrase in the Nicene Creed.

In discussing the Nicene Creed later on (p. 334), he writes:

The ICET translation, which left the inclusion of the filioque clause optional, has been adopted for this Book. The plural form is restored, true to the document of the council and fitting for use in the Eucharist as a proclamation of the faith of the Church.

While rejecting many of the theological changes of Rite II, the ACNA task force embraced this philosophy with the first word of their creed. As the ACNA FAQ explains

Nicene Creed: Why, in the Nicene Creed, are we saying "We believe" rather than "I believe?"

The original Greek text used "We Believe" because this Creed reflects the belief of the whole Church as a united body, as contrasted with the Apostles' Creed which is a personal profession of faith used at baptism. The translation we are using for the Creed is that used by The Church of England in "Common Worship," an adaptation of 1662 BCP.

The citation of Common Worship is slightly misleading. In Order One, the CoE uses “we believe” but Order Two of the latest CoE liturgy retains the Cranmerian credo.

Ecumenical Disharmony

That the ACNA used a CoE modernization rather than inventing its own is somewhat reassuring. However, its decision on "we believe" is still in disharmony with the ACNA's most likely ecumenical partners.

For much of the past century, the CoE and Anglicans more broadly have been trying to repair the Tudor rift with Rome. However, in their new liturgy, adopted in 2008 and put into effect in 2011, the Order of Mass dropped the “We believe” in favor of the “I believe.”

In the US, the ACNA has been courting the Orthodox church for the past five years, inviting Metropolitan Jonah to address the 2009 convention, and a delegation of Orthodox clergy last fall to Nashotah House. The various American branches of Orthodoxy still use “I”.

Then there is the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod. Of the liturgical churches among US Protestant denominations, it is one of the largest — in fact, the largest of the traditionalist denominations (with only the UMC, ELCA and PCUSA mainline Protestants being larger). In fact, with 2.3 million members it has more than the 2.0 million of TEC (vs. 100,000-140,00 for the ACNA).

Maybe that’s why the ACNA has actively courted the LCMS as a liturgical partner, with a series of “dialog” meetings that led to a 2012 joint communique.

While the Orthodox (being Orthodox) stick to traditional language, the RCC demonstrates it is possible to do contemporary language while keep the credo in the creed.

Why Others Do Not Believe

After joining with the ICET pluralism with a 1970 decision of the ICEL, the RCC consciously reverted to the singular with their 2011 liturgical revision.

In anticipation of that shift, Rev. James V. Schall, then a Jesuit priest and Georgetown professor wrote a July 2011 essay explaining the RCC theology behind the change:

In the Denziger collection of Church documents, however, all the ancient creeds, except the Apostles’ Creed, begin, following the Greek, in the first-person plural: Credimus – “we believe.” From its earliest appearance in the Church, the “I believe” version is for liturgical use. Those present affirm their own personal belief.

Why the English translation currently in use from the 1960s changed to “we believe” is open to speculation. Obviously, if it was good enough at Nicea, it ought to be good enough in Kansas City. When the Church Fathers at Nicea and Constantinople said “we believe” or “we affirm,” however, they were speaking definitively in the name of the tradition. They affirmed authoritatively what the Church held, what is to be believed as true. At Mass, the individual parishioner is not so speaking with authority. He is articulating his personal acceptance and knowledge of what is held. He is not defining it, but he does understand it.
…
The problem with the formula “we believe” is that the one who recites it may not in fact be affirming what is in the Creed. Instead of saying “I believe” as a public expression of what he holds, he means rather, “We believe” — that is, this is what this organization holds, though not necessarily what I hold myself. The unity of belief is broken.

I recommend the entire article for reading.

The Orthodox church is certainly not a fan of the RCC position on the creed — in particular three words added by Rome the 11th century that helped prompt the Great Schism. And the “we” form — gone in the West by the 5th century — lasted longer in the East.

That said, an official statement of the Orthodox Church in America, comments on the evolution of the creed after it was finalized in 381:

This whole Symbol of Faith was ultimately adopted throughout the entire Church. It was put into the first person form “I believe” and used for the formal and official confession of faith made by a person (or his sponsor-godparent) at his baptism. It is also used as the formal statement of faith by a non-Orthodox Christian entering the communion of the Orthodox Church. In the same way the creed became part of the life of Orthodox Christians and an essential element of the Divine Liturgy of the Orthodox Church at which each person formally and officially accepts and renews his baptism and membership in the Church. Thus, the Symbol of Faith is the only part of the liturgy (repeated in another form just before Holy Communion) which is in the first person. All other songs and prayers of the liturgy are plural, beginning with “we”. Only the credal statement begins with “I.” This, as we shall see, is because faith is first personal, and only then corporate and communal.

As best I understand, the LCMS position is the same as the Catholic and Orthodox. When (during my Lutheran period) I asked my LCMS pastor why the creed we recited was "I" and not "we," he answered simply: “because I don’t know what is in your heart — only what is in my heart.”

Conclusions

When the ACNA created its liturgy task force, it was pre-ordained that they would create a single modern language service: their “Guiding Principles” of 2009 made that clear, calling for “a modern language adaptation of the Rite I.” It claimed the primacy of Scripture and the creeds — but which creeds?

Verbally, I heard statements that the task force was trying to avoid the theological errors of the 1979 prayer book, but the word “theology” only appears twice in the Guiding Principles.

With the discussion of “What is Anglican worship?” several of the principles would suggest a desire to hew to first millennial church practice:

Although profoundly influenced, over several generations and in diverse directions, by the Continental 16th-century Reformation, the Church of England claims a direct !continuity of faith, governance and practice from before the arrival of St. Augustine of Canterbury in 597 to the present.
…
The central identifying marks of the Anglican version of Reformed Catholicism were and remain:
a. The primacy and sufficiency of Scripture
b. Credal orthodoxy
c. Justification by grace alone through faith alone
d. Patristic Heritage, including the 3-fold ministry of bishops, presbyters, and deacons.
e. Historic liturgy in continuity with ancient catholic tradition, but “purged” of late Medieval aberrations.

That the creeds entered the liturgy of the one true and (pre-Schism) undivided church with “credo” — first person singular — would seem to point to keeping the only form that Anglicans used for 400 years. Instead, the ACNA seems to favor the congregational feel of the “we,” while ignoring the theological change this represents.

Theological and ecumenical continuity would support support “I” while emotion supports ”we.” This key decision provides a window into the future character of the Evangelical Church in North America and its founder, the Rt. Rev. Robert Duncan.

References

Common Worship, London: Church House Publishing, 2000

Hatchett, Marion J., Commentary on the American prayer book, New York : Seabury Press, 1980

International Consultation on English Texts, Prayers We Have in Common: Agreed Liturgical Texts, 2nd revised edition, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975.

Less schism in Schism I?

John Henry Newman aside, I’ve always had profound reservations about the RCC and the proposed Ordinariate that was pursued by The Anglican Communion, one of the major Schism I Continuing Anglican groups and one of the few with a significant presence outside the US.

Thursday David Virtue posted a pastoral letter from Rt. Rev. Daren Williams, one of the bishops of the Anglican Church in America (the US affiliate of TAC). His major points as I read them:

• In 3 of the 4 ACA dioceses, the bulk of the laity today do not want to exercise the option offered by the Ordinariate and become Catholic.
• Even discussing this option has created great confusion and turbulence in the ACA, with three parishes in his diocese defecting to other Continuing Anglican groups.
• Rather than Swim the Tiber, the ACA should be working to repair the historic and regrettable schisms among Continuing Anglicans, staring by entering into communion with the Anglican Province of America.

To the last point, Bp. Williams wrote:

It is my conclusion that before we can enter into significant communal relationships with larger bodies of Catholic Christendom, we need to make another effort to unite with those near to us who share the same goals in Anglicanism.

Amen! This is remarkable sanity for a Schism I bishop, given that a major problem for 1928 BCP groups has been the proliferation of purple shirts — with a widespread suspicion that egos and powers have more to do with this fragmentation than any significant theological issues.

Perhaps the most surprisingly honest passage in the letter:

Anglicans in the ACA are comparatively small in number and we often struggle to make ends meet.

Bp. Williams seems to be much more honest than the Schism I “bishops” and “primates”. Together, all the Schism I parishes probably have less than 50,000 members across all the “denominations” or “provinces” — less than a single large TEC diocese.

Personally, I think we have been long overdue for a reunification of the Schism I, 1928 Prayer Book Anglo-Catholics that began with the 1977 Congress of St. Louis and the 1978 Denver ordinations. Whether or not we bridge the gap to ACNA/Schism II — or win more allies jumping from the TEC ship — fixing this historical accident is one move that is possible today, if the clerical hierarchy will let us.

As one of the commenters on the Virtue Online site put it:

The retirements of some of the old Continuum bishops seems to be leading to this opportunity to come back together. The personalities that used to get in the way seem to replaced by younger more reasonable men, without the baggage of old grudges. My prayers are with them.

Let’s pray for this sane path forwards for Continuing Anglicans everywhere.

Our precarious Anglo-Catholic heritage

As Protestants, we high church Anglicans live in a very fortunate time in history. Much of our rich liturgy would have been unavailable (or confined to library books) a few centuries ago.

In America, we owe a lot to the hard work of C.W. Douglas, and all the plainchant that he provided for Hymnal 1940. But most of all, Anglo-Catholics benefit from the Oxford Movement of 1833-1841, the basis of our modern Anglo-Catholicism.

The movement brought an awareness of many medieval traditions and principles that had been long-forgotten by the English Protestants. Among other things, it inspired and enabled the success of John Mason Neale with Medieval Hymns and Sequences and the many medieval or ancient hymns in our modern hymnal.

Last week, I learned a lot about the Oxford Movement from a series of podcasts about the life of John Henry Newman (1801-1890). With John Keble, Newman was the key leader of the Oxford movement and the most active of the Tractarians.

Newman has been both an inspiration and cautionary tale for Anglo-Catholics for the next 150 years. On one hand, the former vicar of Oxford's University Church was one of the intellectual leaders that created Anglo-Catholicism.

On the other hand, Newman's efforts to reconnect with his historic roots led him in 1845 to join the Roman Catholic church, creating a national scandal. In the final tract of the Tractarians, Tract #90, Newman showed how the 39 Articles — nominally the loosely controlling statement of Anglican doctrine — could be stretched to subsume Catholic doctrine.

Pope Benedict’s visit to England this week will beatify Newman, the next to last step en route to sainthood.

The podcasts are from the series “Cardinal Newman at 2000,” broadcast a decade ago in anticipation of the Newman bicentennial. The podcasts at the EWTN website appear to be from TV interviews with Catholic experts at that time.

While I learned a lot from the interviews, it was difficult to sit through some of the later portions of each show, as the Catholic host and guests talked about the onetime leader of the Anglo-Catholic movement as their late cardinal and future saint.

On EWTN, in the New Advent Encyclopedia and elsewhere, the Catholic view is that Newman has done what every doctrinally sound Protestant should do: abandon his or her church and become Roman Catholic. We have an echo of that today in the decision by some Anglican clergy (especially those in TAC) who now want to become Catholic priests via the personal ordinariate.

What about Newman’s contribution to Anglo-Catholicism? The podcasts captured some of the efforts by Newman and others to offer Anglo-Catholicism as the Via Media, a middle way between Reformed and Catholic. However, this movement and theology have been rejected by ECUSA and (it appears) the CoE as well.

So is the Via Media an inherently unstable and infeasible effort to capture the best (and reject the worst excesses) of both the Reformed and Catholic traditions? Do we Anglo-Catholics have a future, or are we just a minor eddy in the river of Christian history?

Save us from the time of trial

Apparently the Virginia Theological Seminary — a center-left seminary in the increasingly liberal TEC — is having a seminar series celebrating 30 years since the creation of the 1979 not-quite-a-Book-of-Common-Prayer. This week, one of the speakers was Prof Ruth Meyers of the Church Divinity School of the Pacific.

I don’t know Prof. Meyers, but here in California CSDP is known by Anglicans the Berkeley seminary that vies with its counterparts in NY and at Harvard to harbor the most extreme revisionist theologians in the TEC, if not American Protestantism. Prof. Meyers also heads the TEC’s Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music. (Does that mean she’s blessing same sex marriage rites?)

As quoted by the Living Church, Prof. Meyers laments the ending of a brief period of English translations shared by Protestant and Catholic churches during the ascendance of the Revised Common Lectionary:

But the liturgical and ecumenical unity underpinning common texts — which flourished in the 20th century — is now losing strength, Meyers said. She cited two primary sources of weakening liturgical unity: widespread ethnic divergence in worship styles around the world, and the Vatican’s moving toward a more literal translation of the original Latin in its new Roman Missal, which is nearing completion.

The story talks about how the RCL banished the male pronoun and promoted dynamic equivalence for translation from the original Latin:

Dynamic equivalence meant that translators working with the ancient Latin texts were to use language familiar to the people. The new English translation of the Roman Missal, she said, uses the concept of “formal equivalence,” a more literal, authentic translation that places high value on the ancient Latin.

The report doesn’t seem to be inaccurate, but it shows the problems of a one-sided, single-source story. (Reporters who attend a public talk or event without doing background research are prone to these problems.)

The story doesn’t really explain the Catholic side of why they are moving away from the inaccuracies of the dynamic translations, such as “And also with you.” The new more authentic translations may be anathema to the TEC, but should be well received by Schism I, perhaps by Schism II and also other conservative Protestants — say those who favor the ESV over the political correctness of the NRSV or the dynamic translation of the NIV.

Like modern-day politicians, Prof. Meyers seems to think that change is inherently good:

Meyers said that the 1979 Book of Common Prayer offers different options for some familiar prayers, such as the Lord’s Prayer. But, she said, “The Lord’s Prayer has been the most resistant to change.”

People develop a “deep familiar attachment to old forms of prayer,” she said, and nowhere is this better illustrated than in the Lord’s Prayer. Thus, she said, some worshipers will always want to say the familiar “And lead us not into temptation” rather than the newer “Save us from the time of trial.”

I, for one, think the Lord’s Prayer being “resistant to change” is a really good thing: newer is not always better.

I am not tempted by this new liturgy. Instead, I pray for the Continuing Anglicans (particularly ACNA) to follow the lead of the RCC (and that of the late Peter Toon) to save us from the trial of theologically dubious translations.

River Tiber no longer deep nor wide

Today’s announcement that the Roman Catholic church is welcoming Anglicans into the fold is far more sweeping than had been rumored over the past few years. (Yes, as a reader pointed out in response to Sunday’s posting, many of the Schism I types have long longed for reunification with Rome.)

The best coverage so far is in the Telegraph (sorry Ruth) which points out that the plan creates a church within a church that is broader and deeper than previous accommodations to Eastern- and Anglican-rite Catholics. The Guardian notes that (as long expected) the 500,000-member Traditional Anglican Communion (TAC) is first in line, and the TAC primate makes it clear they will immediately start working on building institutions of cooperation and unity. (Time to print more Tiber River Swim Club t-shirts).

The British press (including the Telegraph and Times) make it clear that Archbishop Williams was gobsmacked by the announcement. (It’s such a great term — and perfect here — so I’m surprised they didn’t use it). Meanwhile, the US press is doing its typical terrible ahistoric job of covering the ongoing fissures in Anglicanism, as pointed out by former Episcopalian (now Orthodox) religion writer Terry Mattingly in GetReligion.

I don’t pretend to understand all the theological and ecclesiastical implications of the announcement, nor to be able to predict how popular the option will be with Anglican clergy or laity. The British press makes it clear that this will have a major impact in the UK and its 25 million nominal Anglicans; if only 10% jump to Rome, that’s more than the 2 million remaining in the TEC.

In the US, there is the lingering problem here of a corrupt RCC hierarchy tolerating and then covering up all those priests who were buggering little boys. (It was also a problem in Canada and Ireland). The worst news is out, but the scandal is not quite over.

Here in the US, I’m guessing that Schism I Anglo-Catholics will leap at the opportunity, but the Schism II evangelicals will prefer to keep their own ACNA hierarchy and their ordained women; today Abp. Duncan made it clear he’s not ready to sign up. I believe the fragile confederation that is ACNA will be put to the test, as individuals, parishes and even dioceses (Ft. Worth? San Joaquin?) are tempted to follow the Anglican Church in America (the US branch of TAC) and swim the Tiber.

Update 4pm: Abp. Duncan and Williams share a common interest in keeping the Continuing Anglicans with the CoE/AC rather than have even more join the Tiber River Swim Team. My initial reaction was that if Abp. Williams (and the other instruments of communion) are going to recognize ACNA and bring them into the Anglican Communion fold, he should do it sooner rather than later. Bp. Martyn Minns of CANA essentially said the same thing this afternoon.

So without knowing who and when and how many parishes, priests and parishioners, it’s impossible to predict what this will do to Anglican worship. The Telegraph notes that in the UK, some Anglicans may prefer the new translation of the Roman rite while Catholics could choose Anglo-Catholicism over the mod liturgy that passes for the RCC nowadays.

The one prediction I feel comfortable making: the English-speaking Anglican Catholics (Catholic Anglicans?) will need to develop a liturgy shared around the world, whether based on 1662 BCP or some other instrument. Once the dust settles — and a significant number of ex-Anglicans are aboard — I’d expect the first order of business would be a new prayer book, of course under the doctrinal supervision of the Vatican and presumably in cooperation with the ICEL.

It is a leap of faith to say that this international cooperation would also extend to finding a replacement for The English Hymnal and Hymnal 1940. However, I think this suggests that the chances for a New Anglican Hymnal in North America are becoming close to nil. Perhaps the Schism I, II Anglo-Catholics will adopt the Catholic-Anglican hymnal when/if it becomes available, but that is clearly more than a decade off.

The journey away

My radio presets include a Protestant station (Family Radio) and Catholic station (EWTN). Flipping to EWTN on consecutive Mondays, I heard the weekly show “The Journey Home” (5pm PT, 8pm ET). The website lists the future schedule, while the EWTN RSS feed (podcasts) has links to MP3 files of past programs.

The theme of the show is that those (mostly Protestants) who convert to Catholicism are “coming home.” Like all inter-Christian evangelism, this is a theologically touchy topic, but I thought the (obviously Catholic) host handled the subject with dignity and respect.

That said, it was depressing that the two programs I heard were Anglicans (both with an Anglo-Catholic bent) who gave up on ECUSA/TEC and chose Rome over one of the Continuing Anglican groups. They (perhaps in keeping with the overall show theme) are highly intelligent, educated and articulate converts to Rome.

The September 28 show was an interview with Mary Moorman, who did her PhD dissertation at Southern Methodist U on the sale of indulgences — an improbable choice for a proto-Catholic if there ever was one. Apparently now she’s a prominent speaker in the Anglican Use movement of the US Catholic church.

Last week’s (Oct. 5) show was an interview with Dr. Scott Carson, a philosophy professor at Ohio University. Depressingly, when Carson was doing his PhD at UNC Chapel Hill, his parish priest was Bob Duncan — the same Bob Duncan who’s now the primate of ACNA. Carson thought Rev. Duncan was a great preacher, but that wasn’t enough to keep him in the Anglican faith.

Tomorrow’s (Oct. 12) show is said to be “Fr. Trevor Nicholls, Former Anglican Minister [sic].” (Side note: by denying the priesthood of Anglican clergy, the webmaster seems to minimize the decades of Anglo-Catholic dialog over recognition of Anglican orders.) Ordained a Catholic priest in 1990 by Cardinal O’Connor, Rev. Nicholls is one of the few Catholic priests with grandchildren.

This reminds me of how torn my wife and I have been facing the lousy choices presented by TEC’s recent theological decay. Of all the couple friends we have had since we were married, nearly all came from the ECUSA parish where we spent nearly 10 years of our earliest married days. Of the friends we made,

• One family is Roman
• Another is Greek Orthodox
• Another is at a nondenominational Bible church
• Another (the most “liberal”) moved away and is at a TEC parish
• A few remain at our former ECUSA parish, which is becoming less orthodox and more “moderate”

The first rector has retired and his replacement is still there. Of the assistants who moved on, one is Antiochian Orthodox, one is a Catholic layman, one is a TAC priest who (with the rest of TAC) may become Anglican Use Catholic, one went to Ft. Worth (and I hope on to ACNA), and one is no longer in the ministry.

I think we’re the only ones among this group trying to stay Anglican by hanging on to the thin thread of Continuing Anglicanism — the rest would rather switch than fight. Will we give up Anglicanism too?

More generally, after 400+ years is this the beginning of the end of the historic Anglican faith in North America? And what does it say for the Anglo-Catholic faith elsewhere in the world — Australia, New Zealand and even England? The Anglican expression of the Christian faith may continue in the Global South, but much/most of this has an Evangelical rather than Anglo-Catholic orientation.

Anglo vs. Roman

Updated 5pm Aug. 10 based on two comments from reader Nicholas below.

Since the Oxford movement, many Anglicans have been so enthusiastic about Catholic-style liturgy — to the point that many of Anglo-Catholics claim (post-Vatican II) to be more Catholic than the Roman Catholics.

A few Anglo-Catholics even want to be Catholic. Over more than a year, the Traditional Anglican Communion (and their US affiliate the Anglican Church in America) has been exploring how it might get into communion with Rome and the Pope (who I guess they would then call the Holy Father). Rumor has it that the plan has some support in Rome, and the TAC’s archbishop still hopes to achieve such a result. (My impression is that the ultimate result would be to become another Anglican-rite Catholic church, but the Vatican seems to have said nothing official yet).

I’ve always wondered, however, what doctrinal issues lurked under the surface — not the obvious authority ones, but ones about our conception of God and man’s relationship to him. Clearly there must be some doctrinal questions that enter into borrowing between various Christian denominations and groups, unless the lyrics are such pablum as to encompass everything from Opus Dei to the Unitarian Universalists. (When I took a Hymnal 1940 hymn (#55) to sing at my local LCMS church during a midweek Lenten service, the rightfully pastor insisted on seeing the hymn first.)

I was reminded of this when driving down the road listening to EWTN (aka the “Global Catholic Radio Network”). On the show, the host made reference to a line from the Easter Vigil (which Wikipedia helpfully describes thus: “In the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion, the Easter Vigil is the most important Mass of the liturgical year…”).

I didn’t have a pen, but one key phrase stuck in my mind that allowed me to look up the passage using Google®:

What good would life have been to us,

had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

…

O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,

which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Now I understand the broad point, but the happiness and necessity of The Fall — which my reader Nicholas points out is “Felix Culpa” in the Latin — seemed alien to any Protestant teaching I’d ever seen. I checked a few sources:

• Reformed. Because Anglicans “both Catholic and Reformed,” I started with the Westminster Confession. Not surprisingly for Calvinists, The Fall was pre-ordained, while Adam, Eve and their descendants are “dead in sin, and wholly defiled in all the parts and faculties of soul and body.”
• Lutheran. The Small and Large Catechism mention sin in terms of repentance, forgiveness and redemption of sins, but I didn’t see any discussion of Original Sin in any form. I don’t have the 55 volumes of the printed Luther’s Works (from ELC/LCMS) in printed form, or the searchable CD-ROM. (Now on sale!)
• Anglican. Looking at the 39 Articles, Article X has Free Will and XI has Sola Fide, Article IX is the most directly relevant:

Original sin standeth not in the following of Adam, (as the Pelagians do vainly talk;) but it is the fault and corruption of the Nature of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam; whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the flesh lusteth always contrary to the Spirit; and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God's wrath and damnation.

Given that, I can’t see any Protestant singing “O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!” I’d appreciate pointers to any hymn (from any source) that incorporates this theology, particularly if it’s an official hymn in any Protestant hymnal.

As reader Nicholas points out in the comments below, the theology of “Felix Culpa” is very similar to that of the 15th century English carol Adam Lay Ybounden — although that would clearly be pre-Reformation, pre-Anglican.

Something worse than praise music

I have been mercilessly lampooning praise music in this blog, to the point that regular readers might think that the sole purpose of starting the blog was to eradicate it from Anglican worship.

The excesses of CCM are certainly a major focus of this blog. I also argue (as has Episcopalian-gone-East Terry Mattingly) that most “contemporary” music has a transitory quality that will not be passed down through the generations — let alone through the centuries — the way that (say) a hymn by Thomas Aquinas has.

However, by studying praise music in its anthropological context, I realize that there is a variation in the quality of music, lyrics and performance. Most of it is sappy drek, and some of it event perpetuates millennially ancient heresies, but it is possible to see that some small subset might survive 20, 50, even 200 years hence.

Driving around today, I happened to tune to one of the Immaculate Heart Radio stations that dot the Western US. I caught a Catholic morning mass which gave me new respect (if only by comparison) for the Anglican praise bands.

From what I recall of occasional visits to Catholic services, this liturgical form seemed fairly representative for a California post-Vatican II parish. Services in English, modernized words that seem more Rite II than 1549 (or 1928) BCP, and late 20th century songs rather than hymns by the 19th century (or 16th century) masters.

First, the singing was dreadful. This seems so shallow, but clearly someone near the mike couldn’t sing in tune and this really dragged down the effectiveness of this nominally uplifting music. By comparison, the music selection for my first visit to St. Edwards (now St. James) was like fingernails on chalkboards, but it was clear that the band leader and his musicians know their stuff.

Trying to get beyond the musical performance, I realized what was also awful was the choice of songs. No, there wasn’t anything sappy like “On Eagles’ Wings,” that notorious contemporary Catholic composition.

But, overall, the hymn choices seemed to alternate between lounge singer and bad campfire music. So not timeless (as in the centuries of Catholic heritage), not chosen from the best of the past 50 years of modern Christian music, and not even the sort of professionally composed CCM that might be heard on a praise music radio station.

This gave me some new insights as to what makes effective liturgical music.

First, I realized that the problem of a weak choir is not specific to contemporary music parishes. However, when I go to a hymn church with a off-key choir I just belt out the hymns so I can’t hear them. If I had to sit and listen to them, it would certainly detract from even the most inspired choices.

Conversely, the choice of hymns — even from within a genre — are certainly important. When we were last church shopping, there was a very friendly 1928 BCP parish with a great rector, but the organists’ choice of hymns was so haphazard that I never knew what to expect and some obvious choices (e.g. on Easter Sunday) were completely overlooked.

I don’t know the CCM genre well enough yet (perhaps ever) to know which are the classics. However, within Hymnal 1982 are a few new hymns that I am convinced will survive to the 22nd century, including my all-time favorite, the 1966 “I Am the Bread of Life” by Sister Suzanne Toolan. So I have a newly-found respect for the importance of a music director (or musically literate pastor) who not only selects hymns appropriate for the season, but also chooses the best hymns, bypassing the weak offerings that will deservedly be forgotten.

Music has the potential to stir the soul, and to reinforce the message being conveyed by the readings, liturgy and sermon. However, it takes knowledge, skill and (frankly) good taste to do it right, and many parishes fall short in one or more areas.

New hymn blog

Via the Catholic website Hymnography Unbound, I found out about a new hymn blog, Catholic Musicians.

The post I found most amusing was the one lamenting a particularly awful piece of schmalz that (as it turns out) was foisted on parishes everywhere by a contemporary Catholic composer:

Sometimes composers set music to sacred texts that become so well-known that one can hardly read the words without hearing the tune. Who can ponder Isaiah 9 without hearing Haendel's "For Unto Us a Child is Born," or who can help but to think of Brahms' Requiem when St. Paul taunts, "Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave, where is thy victory?" These "ear worms" stay with us and heighten our appreciation of these Scriptural passages.

Alas, not all such situations are to be celebrated. Take Psalm 90, for instance. It is quite possible that many cringe at the mere reading of that text, for it immediately conjures up the sounds of one of the most popular--and one of the most poorly-written--pieces of music in the history of the Catholic Church. I speak, of course, of "On Eagles' Wings," or, as a friend of mine--no ideologue, she--calls it, "that yoohoo song." ("Excuse me!!!" she once said, approaching Michael Joncas, "aren't you the guy who wrote that yoohoo song?" Joncas, once he figured out what she was talking about, just laughed and admitted that he really should have revised the piece.)

The author is a big fan of Gregorian Chant. In many ways it seems to be my counterpart in the Roman Catholic Church — except that in his church, the doctrinally devout do not also have to worry about an unfolding schism and property fight.

In another post, Lawrence praises the Anglo-Catholic worship at a Philadelphia parish:

S. Clement's uses a Mass that is essentially the Traditional Mass said in a sacral vernacular, translated by someone who was clearly literate and aesthetically sensible. It offers perhaps the solution that Rome should have pursued in the mid 20th century. Alas, I need hardly comment on how far afield we've gone from that.

Alas, the St. Clement parish is in the diocese of Philadelphia, the same diocese until recently headed by the corrupt Charles Bennison, and the diocese determined to snatch the Good Shepherd Rosemont property from the most devout Anglo-Catholic parish in Eastern Pennsylvania.

The St. Clement website does not indicate where the clergy stand on the great theological and cultural issues dividing the Anglican Communion. So it’s hard to tell whether they’re Anglo-Catholic (as defined 150 years ago) or merely High Church Progressives.

Speaking the unspeakable

Christianity Today has an interesting discussion of whether Christians should use the holiest term of the Jewish faith, Yahweh. This word, unspeakable and unwritable in the Jewish faith, is often abbreviated YHWH to avoid this prohibition. (Just as some Jews write G*d to reflect the spirit of this belief.)

The word is so holy, that Christians have 3 chapters in the Old Testament named after a minor prophet, Joel, whose name means “Yahweh is God.”

The CT article was prompted by a recent change in Catholic doctrine to respect the Jewish tradition by banning Y*hw*h from worship.

"By directive of the Holy Father, in accord with the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, this congregation ... deems it convenient to communicate to the bishops' conferences ... as regards the translation and the pronunciation, in a liturgical setting, of the divine name signified in the sacred Tetragrammaton," said the letter signed by Cardinal Francis Arinze and Archbishop Malcolm Ranjith, congregation prefect and secretary, respectively.

The Tetragrammaton is YHWH, the four consonants of the ancient Hebrew name for God.

The impact should be small, because only a few hymns in the Catholic missal use the word.

Since the 16th century, the English have used the word “Iehovah” as a reading of YHWH. Under the current interpretation, saying “Iehovah” (or “Jehovah”) does not violate the prohibition on saying YHWH.

For that I thank God, for I certainly want to keep in the liturgy all the Anglican hymns containing that term. First on that list “Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,” an 18th century lyric with a 100-year-old tune.

And with your spirit

Recently the Catholic church took the first step to reverse some of the most of the prominent liturgical errors of the 1970s, as embodied by the PECUSA Rite II service of its 1979 prayer book. It also offers a path forward for at least some Continuing Anglicans.

In the 1960s and 1970s, the Consultation on Common Texts (CCT) — later allied with the International Consultation on English Texts (ICET) — brought us the modernized paraphrases of the ancient liturgy. So (among other examples), the Latin translated from 1662-1928 as “And with thy spirit” became “And also with you.”

On July 25, Catholic News Service reported that the Vatican has approved a new translation for a subset of the Mass:

In 2001 the Vatican issued new rules requiring liturgical translations to follow the original Latin more strictly and completely -- a more literal translation approach called formal equivalence. The resulting new translation adheres far more closely to the normative Latin text issued by the Vatican.

From the 2001 charge for a more accurate translation from the “vernacular,” the English version was taken on by the International Commission on English in the Liturgy, representing the national conference of bishops in 11 English-speaking countries.

Under the approved change, the “thy” becomes “your,” i.e. “And with your spirit.” The Nicene Creed again begins with “I believe” and the “God of power and might” has been banished from the Sanctus.

The change will take effect in a few years, allowing time for changes to musical settings. (Why? Can’t they use the setting for “And with thy spirit”?)

Other parts of the Latin rite still need an updated translation. Earlier in July, US bishops rejected the 2nd installment of the ineffable translation (OK, that's a stretch) of the Roman Missal; a revote is planned. The goal is to finish the entire translation by 2010.

What impact will this have on Protestant liturgy? The CCT is hopelessly en thrall to the liberal mainline denominations (think NRSV). Will the Anglo-Catholics use this, stick with the 1928 BCP, or revert to the 1662 BCP used elsewhere in the world? Will the evangelicals among the Continuing Anglicans use these modernized (but faithful) translations — or widely adopt the Toonian 1662 rendition? Stay tuned.

Gregorian chant resources

Life is hectic at work right now, so I'm going to try to do a series of shorter posts rather than wait for time to do a big long post.

Catching up late last night on my favorite liturgical music blogs (listed at right), I found an interesting post on Hymnography Unbound. Blogress “Ephrem” (like me, a pseudonymous writer) was inviting her Catholic readers to attend a conference:

All the cool kids are going to the Sacred Music Colloquium this June!

This is like summer camp for music geeks. You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?

By the time I read the link the June 2008 conference was history and the website is now promoting the June 2009 conference. I don’t know if it makes sense for a Protestant to attend, but it sounds like a spectacular vehicle for preserving the divine liturgy (lower-case D) in America.

However, I did want to pass along all the other stuff on their website, particularly as it relates to Gregorian chant. Look at the sidebar of the conference web page for

• Two dozen online resources for Gregorian chant and an equal number of teaching resources. For example, there’s a whole article on reading the medieval neumes entitled “An Idiot’s Guide to Square Notes
• Their online bookstore, with titles such as Advanced Studies in Gregorian Chant, as well as online copies of non-copyrighted (ca. 1907) books on church music.
• Their quarterly journal, Sacred Music

Someday I hope to have time to read and comment on all these materials, but I thought I’d pass them along to readers sooner rather than later.

Rome to Anglicans: time to end your fudge

Religion correspondent Ruth Gledhill of The Times of London had an explosive posting this week on her blog:

Hard words for Anglicans from the head of the Council for Christian Unity in Rome. Cardinal Walter Kasper has told the Catholic Herald that now, with Lambeth approaching, is the time for Anglicans to decide whether they are Catholic or Protestant.

'Ultimately, it is a question of the identity of the Anglican Church. Where does it belong?' he said. 'Does it belong more to the churches of the first millennium -Catholic and Orthodox - or does it belong more to the Protestant churches of the 16th century? At the moment it is somewhere in between, but it must clarify its identity now and that will not be possible without certain difficult decisions.'

The genius of Anglicanism has always been its ability to straddle the divide, but maybe the Cardinal is right and the Communion's present difficulties reflect the impossibility of continuing to do this.

The posting has attracted many comments, including a variety of political and theological perspectives. But let me quote two:

Hasn't this always been obvious to people [who disagree] that the [Anglican] failure to have a coherent theology is a genius, [but] rather [believe it to be] a crippling flaw.

If Anglicanism is Catholic then why are half the Anglican congregations not very Catholic at all, and if it is Protestant then what is Walsingham all about? Anglicanism does need to make up its mind, and maybe that will require that it become the 3 or 4 Churches it really is. It cannot be either Catholic or Protestant while it is trying to be both.

Another helpfully quotes the Cardinal himself:

Cardinal Kasper has already touched on the subject in his 2004 book, “That all may be one- the call to Christian unity today”

“Thus we are confronted with two different approaches: on the one hand, the universally-oriented, episcopal approach of the Anglicans and some Lutheran churches, inspired by ancient church tradition; and, on the other hand, a more local, community-centred, presbyteral approach.

Behind the two approaches lie different interpretations of the precise intention of the Reformation. Did the Reformers intend to renew the then universal Church, maintaining continuity with its fundamental structure, as the Augsburg Confession (1530) suggests? Or was the development of a new type and paradigm of the Church an inevitable and deliberate consequence of their actions? Is there a fundamental consensus or - as many state nowadays - a fundamental difference?

I would be inclined to agree with the Cardinal — like Gledhill and many of the commenters — that the “Anglican fudge” has reached the end, and that the fissures can no longer be papered over.

In England, there’s enough parishioners to split Anglicanism into 3 or 4 Churches, but in the US you couldn’t. However, part of PECUSA wants to be just like its bigger brother ELCA, so perhaps those two could merge. And the evangelical wing might align with the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, assuming they get to keep their bishops. Not sure where us Anglo-Catholics are supposed to go — become Anglican Rite Catholics?

Catholics, music and the Pope

All year I've wanted to post something to the effect that while us Anglo-Catholics are emulating many of the best liturgical practices of the Roman Catholic Church, since Vatican II that liturgy has morphed (or even disappeared) from RCC parishes, at least in the US. (I've held off, hoping to have time to do more research, but that time hasn't materialized).

The incongruity -- of Anglo-Catholics being more “Catholic” in their worship than Roman Catholics -- hit me when visiting two of the oldest Christian churches in the Western United States. Over the past year or two, our family has been visiting as many of the 21 California missions as opportunity permits. These missions -- established from 1769 to 1823 -- were established (mainly) to bring Christianity to the natives of California.

On two occasions, we went to church services. At the Carmel Mission (established 1770) we attended morning mass, while at Mission San Antonio de Padua (est. 1771) we just missed services due to out-of-date information on their service times. At Carmel, they had a great choir and a wonderful organ, but the worship (from Today's Missal) was definitely a Rite II-style contemporary hymn approach. We didn't hear the service at Mission San Antonio, but given that they were putting away the amplifiers for the electric guitar, it seems reasonable to presume that it was praise-type music.

Of course, this week Pope Benedict XVI is visiting the East Coast, including celebrating two mega-Masses. In reading Hymnography Unbound, the bloggress noted how the Pontiff and his American bishops are trying to straddle various musical traditions within the American church.

This week, the story was updated by others who had more time to pursue the details. First, on Wednesday the Washington Post wrote about the musical tensions within the American RCC and how this week's masses fit into those tensions. Then on Thursday, GetReligion (Lutheran) bloggress Mollie Ziegler made sense of the Post article by providing context around all the existing tensions in the church.

I don't know that anyone knows how the revival of interest in traditional liturgy (and music) will play out in the RCC or in the American Anglican tradition. After all, the 19th century Oxford Movement was not anticipated before it happened.

However, what is clear is that the Catholic church (with 50 million American adult members) has a lot more room for specialized tastes than do the Anglican/Episcopal churches (with 3+ million). So in terms of sheer numbers, in the US there will always be a larger pool of Catholics interested in Gregorian chant (if not Wesleyan hymns) than there will be Anglicans or even Lutherans or Presbyterians.