Virtual Worship In Time of Great Sickness

Today many U.S. Anglican churches across the country worshipped online. The disruption caused by the current crisis poses significant challenges, both in the short run and in the long run.

A week ago, churches were still debating how to worship face to face, e.g. by communion in one kind. While most churches were in person a week ago, government order has shut down most if not all the churches in the most heavily affected states (New York, Massachusetts, Washington, California) as well as specific metropolitan regions.

Today, for the 4th Sunday of Lent, we “attended” service at our current church and peeked in on services (or watched replay excerpts) at four churches where we previously worshiped.

The three largest streamed on YouTube; a fourth used ChristianWorldMedia.com, while the smallest used FaceBook live. Two emailed links to PDF versions of the worship booklet. All had a sermon.

Such services can be assessed in terms of what works as worship, what works for worshippers, and what works for the church.

In my opinion, the pastoral goal of the online service should be to both reinforce the faith of those attending, and also providing reassurance and comfort to those attending online. Thus, a key goal is (or should be) to provide normalcy for faithful worshippers. At the same time — to be blunt — the online churches must remain relevant to their parishioners, who otherwise may not return when the crisis is over.

Below are the services ranked (purely subjectively) in terms of the degree of vibrancy and normalcy. This is also (with one exception) their order from largest (most resources) to smallest.

1. St. Matthew’s

St. Matthew’s provided a video window into an almost-normal service. The emailed booklet was almost identical to that used last year — with the full order of service, music for the chants and words for the hymns.

From a technical standpoint, the church has been livestreaming for years because the cry room(s) are linked to the service by TV cables and not a pane of glass. The church had the best video quality, with an HD camera and a long shot showing the sanctuary and front of the nave.

Part of the normalcy came from having full music, as on every Sunday. There was an organ prelude and postlude, three hymns, the various chants of the (medieval) mass setting (Second Communion Service in Hymnal 1940), and anthems for the (non-existent) offertory and communion. This also included sung responses and some chanted prayers.

2. Christ Church

Christ Church had a camera on a chair near the altar, a tight short on the altar and altar party. There were no musicians, chanted prayers, and a single hymn at the end. The sermon was preached from a lectern moved on camera. Otherwise the service was pretty similar to the regular service.

The final hymn — “The King of Love My Shepherd Is” — was sung a capella by the clergy and handful of laity. The rector (by far the best singer of the clergy at the five services) led the melody for the first three verses and then switched to bass for the final verses — similar to an unaccompanied midweek service.

With a better camera angle and regular music, like #1 this also would have fully projected the feeling of normalcy.

3. St. James

This church also has experience streaming, with a long angle camera (and a close-in camera) filming from the choir loft. The music team — pianist and harpist — were playing hymns from the hymnal, and the order of service seemed similar to what I recall from my last in person visit. So other than the nearly-empty pews, this was a faithful video of an almost normal service.

However, the rector seemed to emphasize how different things are, the stress we are all facing in society, and the precautions being taken; personally, I would trust my pastor’s judgement and would want as much normalcy and comfort as possible in the service. (The details of precautions IMHO belong in the weekly email newsletter).

4. Holy Communion

While the video quality and angle on the altar party were good, this felt a little sparse — a said Morning Prayer service with a 15 minute sermon in the middle.

During the announcement, the senior cleric confessed that this is the church’s first effort at live streaming. He asked the online audience to "be patient with us as we learn to offer our services through live stream”. Presumably in future week this will be better — particularly if some form of music can be added back in.

5. A Small Parish

Finally, I watched the Facebook of a small church with limited resources. The rector has small children and thus may be more reluctant than some to head into the community; instead of being broadcast from the normal (shared) church, it came from his home altar.

Even given these limitations, it still felt very different from the in person services. The service was Holy Eucharist (2019 ACNA prayer book), but there was no celebration of the mass or administration of Holy Communion. The rector frequently interrupted the liturgy to chat with his virtual audience. I am not the rector (or a member) of this parish, so perhaps this is more comforting to his flock — but it did not feel like normal liturgical worship.

Times of Great Mortality

Two of the parishes use the 1928 Book of Common Prayer. During their service, both read the Anglican prayer most relevant for these trying times:

In Time of Great Sickness and Mortality

O MOST mighty and merciful God, in this time of grievous sickness, we flee unto thee for succour. Deliver us, we beseech thee, from our peril; give strength and skill to all those who minister to the sick; prosper the means made use of for their cure; and grant that, perceiving how frail and uncertain our life is, we may apply our hearts unto that heavenly wisdom which leadeth to eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

This prayer — unique to the American church — is found in every Book of Common Prayer from 1789 to 1928. However, it was unexplicably omitted from the 1979 prayer book, and the ACNA’s 2019 revision of that prayer book.

Effective Online Singing

My major research (and practice) interest is in encouraging congregational singing, both because people learn more by singing (“He who sings, prays twice”) and because Anglican worship and liturgy are inherently participatory.

There are the questions of mechanics. A booklet (with tunes) is always best, but in one case the booklet did not match what those in the service were singing. Church #2 didn’t have a booklet, but instead called out the hymn number at the last minute — although a familiar hymn, I’m not sure how many parishioners own that hymnal.

Those that included music provided appropriate support for singing along. We’ve found in past (virtual) said liturgy that those at home can’t have their mikes on — e.g. for a creed or psalm — because there’s too much of a time lag to synchronize. Even so, there’s a need to encourage participation, so those at home feel like we are singing together. It definitely worked best when the broadcast service allowed us to hear everyone singing, rather than just the choir (#1) or just the praise leader (#3). That requires a conscious effort at setting up the mikes and mixing them.

It really wouldn’t have felt participatory if I’d been here alone: fortunately, my daughter sang soprano (and sometimes alto) as I tried to sight-read the bass. We both felt more empowered to take risks than if others had been around to hear us; I also got to cheat and sing some of the choir-only parts that I knew.

The choir (#1) did two things that were seemed to work well. First, the descant on one hymn was particularly effective: since the choir (music director) choir likes to do descants, this seemed “normal” — but also the descant cut through the mediocre sound reproduction of my TV. Similarly, the a capella choir (properly miked) on one verse really allowed us to hear the four parts clearly.

Implications for the Future

Live streaming virtual worship is here to stay. Certainly it will continue as a substitute for those who can’t come to church — shut-ins, travelers, or those on shift work. It may also be a way to introduce a church to its mission field.

I doubt that for Anglican and other liturgical churches it will replace face to face worship (but I’ve been wrong before). The key to our worship is participation, and — absent a holographic projection of us worshipping together — virtual worship is a poor substitute in providing that sense of community and participation.

If, in the long run, churches rely more heavily on online worship, the mediocrity of the online experience will likely lead to declining engagement with the parish, its mission, a live lived by faith — and concomitant willingness to support the local parish.

Therefore, there is more that can be done to develop such a sense of engagement for virtual worship. Some of it is pure mechanics — a high resolution camera, zoomed in on the right location, and a dress rehearsal to understand how the service will appear to those viewing online.

The keys to singing are twofold. First, make the text and music available to those not sitting in the building. The second is picking up and mixing the sound so we hear the instruments, singing by the professionals, and also by the amateur clergy and laity present in the room. While we won’t have a full congregation in times of social distancing, under more normal times, the sounds of congregational singing in an online broadcast can really help the feeling of being there.

There are other nuances and implications for encouraging singing and participation with online services that require further study and consideration. There’s probably a dissertation in here somewhere.

Continuing Anglican Liturgy in Atlanta

Liturgy was at the center of this month’s Jt. Synod of four major Continuing Anglican jurisdictions — the ACA, ACC, APA and DHC. My own experience suggested both the potential and challenges of integrating this “G-4” in terms of practice, if not ecclesiology.

The heart of the Jt. Synod was the intercommunion agreement signed by the G-4 bishops, followed by a joint mass. But long before Atlanta, Continuing Anglicans have been defined by the Congress of St. Louis, their use of the 1928 BCP and rejection of the 1979 prayer book, one the late Peter Toon termed a “Book of Alternative Services.”

G-4 jurisdictions represented at this month’s Joint Synod both agreed to intercommunion, and also repeatedly worshipped together One of the things I enjoy most about'

Joint Worship at the Joint Synod

The culmination of the Jt. Synod was the “Solemn High Mass for Christian Unity” on Friday October 6. However, it was proceeded by twice daily services from October 2-5, with each day beginning with a Morning Prayer and Mass, and ending with an Evening Prayer. The worship took place in one of the hotel ballrooms, with an altar set up on a raised platform. The earlier services had a capacity of around 250 people, while for the high mass, the capacity was more like 750 (I guessed about 400-500 were in attendance).

Evening Prayer, Wednesday October 4

Fighting jet lag after the trip from California, I was unaware of the Wednesday MP, but attended the Wednesday EP, Thursday MP & Mass and joined the opening hymn of the Thursday EP. The jurisdictions took turn leading these services — the last three being led by the APA, the ACA, and the DHC. (I have uploaded scans of these service booklets for posterity).

Insights into Congregational Practice

There are often variations in the congregational practices of any liturgical church between parishes. These are generally smoothed out over time, as people get used to the culture and other norms of their home parish. Thus, joint worship with no dominant constituency highlights some of the differences in practice — and, I would argue, some of the challenges faced by newcomers to traditional Anglican worship.

We were told to bring our prayer books — but for the Daily Office a slight majority of us were reciting the familiar prayers from memory. (I would guess for communion it was over 80%). Prayer books were not needed for the closing High Mass, which had a detailed nine-page as well as a ten-page musical insert.

The greatest confusion was over standing, sitting and kneeling. There were times when the congregation was split among all three. As in other churches, the degree of kneeling was greatest on key prayers — such as on the confession. Also — as in many storefront churches — I suspect that the kneeling (on the hotel carpet) was less than might have happened if there were pews and kneelers. Still, for the psalm at the Wednesday EP, many of us remained standing until we noticed that so many others were sitting.

Another interesting variation was the congregational response bracketing the reading of the Gospel, which (fortunately for those of us who go to ACNA or FIFNA events), includes the same “Glory be to thee, O Lord” beforehand and “Praise be to thee, O Christ” afterward. The rubric in the 28 BCP (p. 70) says

Then, all the People standing, the Minister appointed shall read the Gospel, first saying, The Holy Gospel is written in the — Chapter of —, beginning at the — Verse.

Communion at the October 5 morning service.

Some in the congregation started the “Glory be” before the introduction was completed — suggesting at their parishes the deacon omits the chapter and verse — and perhaps even the author of the Gospel.

While the congregation was consistent in making than the threefold sign of the cross before the Gospel, there was also significant variation in the bowing and crossing at other times during the service. Lacking a communion rail, the Eucharist was (of necessity) administered standing up, although some clergy (or seminarians) knelt on the carpet — either to receive the elements or because (at least in the final service) they were being administered by the princes of the church.

Variations in the Liturgy

The worship reflected many common variations among 28 BCP parishes. Perhaps the most theologically significant is the Gloria, which in the service — as in the BCP — was recited after the Eucharist. In Rite I (of the 79 prayer book), the Gloria is said near the beginning, immediately after the Kyrie; this is also the practice of our parish (and many other California 28 BCP parishes).

Another variation is in the Prayer of Humble Access and post-communion prayer, which the 28 BCP commands to be said by the priest, but are congregational prayers in the 1979 prayer book. Many 28 parishes have adopted the latter practice — which I believe to be an improvement — and this is also what we did at the Thursday morning mass. I am guessing this practice must be common, because the booklet for Friday’s mass says “Celebrant Only” after the Prayer of Humble Access.

After carefully following the prayer book, the High Mass included two non-prayer book additions that seem common at Anglo-Catholic parishes. One was the threefold prayer “Lord I am not worthy” that references the centurion’s statement of faith in Matthew 8:8. While the prayer is a standard element of the Roman rite (Domine, non sum dignus), and also included in early 20th century “Anglo-Papalist” practice in England, it does not appear anywhere in the 28 BCP.

The High Mass also included the Last Gospel (John 1:1-14) of the Roman rite, but read in King James English rather than the Latin of the Tridentine Mass.

Finally, most of the services I attended did not use an altar bell, but it wasn’t clear whether it’s because they didn’t have one, they didn’t have an acolyte ready to ring it, or they didn’t believe it was an appropriate practice.  Although common in today’s Anglo-Catholic parishes, it’s nowhere mentioned in the BCP, but rather a medieval Roman practice codified in the Tridentine Mass and largely abandoned after Vatican II. (As a musician, I happen to like the sound — and also missed it because because at our parish the second bell helps signal when we should cross ourselves).

Unity in Ecclesiology and Worship

The G-4 are working towards a common hierarchy, one they hope will eventually include other groups as well. The Continuing churches are united by a common liturgy, even more so than the Anglicans going back to Cranmer’s day, but the reality is that today there are numerous deviations from the nearly 90-year-old American BCP. It seems as though most of these differences could be handled (for now) by supplemental rubrics.

In doing so, I think it would also good to write down and disseminate congregational practices such as standing, kneeling, crossing, ringing and genuflecting. Over the long haul, I'm hoping that parishes will indicate these into the seat booklets, particularly since word process and web pages can easily include unicode symbols (e.g. ✠, ✣) that are instantly recognizable and self-explanatory. Certainly agreeing on a supplemental document would be a better way to kick off a joint committee on liturgy than to start with the more complex (and contentious) issue of a prayer book revision.

We believe as we sing

Although they have broken from the Episcopal Church, many AMiA and ACNA churches continue to be guided by the liturgical “reforms” of the Episcopal Church, including the theology that led up the 1979 prayer book.

In his article on the theology of worship in the standard textbook on Anglicanism, Prof. Louis Weil of the Church Divinity School of the Pacific states

Anglicanism gives force to the ancient adage, Lex orandi legem statuat credendi, ‘the law of prayer establishes the law of faith. (Weil, 1998: 61).

From this, he emphasizes the ongoing need to update the liturgy to keep it relevant (emphasis added):

[T]he Prayer Book plays a dynamic role in shaping a new liturgical mentality in which the odd [sic] truths are seen afresh. Such a transition never takes place easily, because there seems to be a natural conservatism in worshippers in regards to the rituals through which faith has been articulated. … [C]hange must come so that we may be faithful to the gospel as it speaks to the real world in which we live.  [66]

Singing is Liturgy

In their modest revision to Rite II of that prayer book, the ACNA rejected the most glaring doctrinal errors of the words of that prayer book. But as lex orandi makes clear, the experience of liturgy is not just words.

It seems as though (outside the REC and Continuing churches), there are many 21st century Anglican clergy who consider themselves theologically orthodox, and yet choose (or allow their music minister to choose) the most contemporary form of worship music, up to and including songs off the top 40 list of the Contemporary Christian Music radio station.

By any definition, congregational singing during the service is part of the liturgy and the liturgical experience. (At many evangelical churches, it is the only part that in which the congregation participates). And thus the nature of how we worship is not just the words we sing — the explicit hymn doctrine — but how we sing them.

Of course, today we instruments that didn’t exist in 1st century. The invention or improvement of instruments didn’t stop with the perfection of the pipe organ in the baroque period or even the invention of the fortepiano in the 18th century.

But the idea that we must constantly update how we sing and other aspects of worship means — by the principles of lex orandi — that we must constantly update what we as Anglican believe. The latter means that we are thus rejecting the idea of Anglicanism as being a Protestant manifestation of the historic, undivided church, in continuity with Christian beliefs throughout the millennia.

I am hoping that most readers of this blog would find the latter a step too far. I can’t claim that this principle means banishing all CCM from the nave, but at least it should cause the clerical and lay leadership of an orthodox parish to think about what it says to the culture — and the congregation — to choose such music for the weekly worship.

References

Weil, Louis, “The Gospel in Liturgy”, in Booty, John E., Stephen Sykes, and Jonathan Knight, eds., The Study of Anglicanism. Rev. Ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998, pp. 55-83.

Come, let us sing!

Today is the first day of Forward in Faith North America’s annual conference. The 2017 Assembly is being held 13 miles from DFW in the Texas Metroplex, in the Diocese of Ft. Worth.

We kicked off the Assembly with a sung evensong, with a 17-voice choir formed by the local music director and volunteers from St. Vincent’s Cathedral and St. Mark’s Anglican in Arlington. Their obvious talent aside, it was great to hear a medium-sized choir, which sounds so much more full and than the 4- to 10-voice choirs I’ve mainly heard the last 15 years. (One small gripe: like most volunteer choirs, there weren’t enough men’s voices with only 5 of the 17).

The service was a 1928 BCP Evening Prayer, although the text was obviously unfamiliar to many of those present. (One tip-off: saying “Holy Spirit” instead of “Holy Ghost.”) The music was picked with taste from the English repertoire, included chants and anthems by John Stainer, John Goss, Alec Rowley, and C.H.H. Parry.

However, as a member of the congregation (rather than in the choir or an organizer), I (re)learned a valuable lesson. There was literally no music to sing — unless you count the monotone chant of the creed and the Lord’s Prayer. As you might expect for a conference of Anglo-Catholic clergy (including five bishops and one bishop-elect), there was a lot of music talent in the pews — and some of us sang along anyway (particularly on the psalm, where it was practical enough to learn as we went.)

So there were at least two key lessons:

• For most churches and most occasions, more music should be sung by the congregation than by the choir alone. That often means two really great and elaborate anthems, and then three hymns plus service music where the congregation can sing along.
• If the congregation is asked (or expects) to sing along, don’t trick them. For example, if we sing “Amen” after the officiant for three prayers, either make the Amens all the same or write out the music.

And this points to a final lesson. Over the past few years, I learned a lot about take-for-grantedness by visiting a wide range of churches before choosing my current church, and I’ve also tried to visit unfamiliar churches while traveling. The clergy, music director and choir need to get out more so they have empathy for how those in the pews experience the liturgy.

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.