"Send out Your light and Your truth, that they may lead me, and bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling." Psalm 43:3

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Changing Culture, Changing Worship?

I just finished reading Opening the Prayer Book, by the Rev. Jeffrey Lee.  It's part of "The New Church's Teaching Series."  It's the second book of the series that I've read (The Anglican Vision by James E. Griffiss being the other), and so far I've been pleased.  They are well-written as to style, and short enough to read fairly quickly, while remaining very informative.  They're popular, not scholarly, but I've never felt like I'm just reading an expanded version of a visitor's welcome pamphlet; the books strike a good balance between basic introduction and in-depth study.  I recommend.

In the last chapter of the book, Lee writes of "looking toward the future".  He notes succinctly that "One of the identifying marks of the Anglican way is its willingness to engage the realities of contemporary experience."  I would certainly agree.  But's it's another statement from the chapter that I've been chewing on.  Writing about change and revision to the prayer book (something of a continuous reality if we look at history, as Lee documents earlier in the book), Lee references a quote from the late Leonel Mitchell: "Language changes.  Culture changes.  Our worship is conditioned by both and must change in order to remain the same."

This is a thoughtful and challenging statement, and one with a couple of things to unpack.  First is the assertion that our worship is conditioned by language and culture (which, unarguably, are forever changing).  This may seem a bit threatening.  After all, is not our faith "an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast", as the writer of the letter to the Hebrews puts it?  Consequently, Paul writes to the Ephesians that "we are no longer to be children, tossed here and there by waves."  For myself, the idea of a culturally-conditioned worship brings to mind (to borrow from Niebuhr's typologies) the "Christ of Culture", ever-changing (one might say even manipulated), according to the shifting currents of society; not a happy vision, as I see it.  However, I think this is an overreaction.  To say that worship is conditioned by language and culture is not to say that worship is at the mercy of either.  It is, rather, an acknowledgment of what, on reflection, is quite obviously true.  The Christian faith, perhaps more than any other, has at least one foot firmly standing on the ground of this earth, for the whole of our faith points to this Man who walked the dusty roads of first century Palestine.  In the Incarnation, God enters our world and its culture.  Jesus lived within a specific and historically identifiable culture, and while He certainly challenged that culture, to maintain that the early church was not conditioned by its cultural setting is surely an exercise in self-deception.  Likewise, to read the Bible without a basic grounding in the varied cultural and historical backdrops that inform it is to choose to miss out on whole layers of understanding.  The culture in which we twenty-first century Christians live is much changed from that of the first century Roman world.  Not surprisingly, the church has undergone changes as well.

Which brings us to the second assertion of Mitchell's: our worship must change in order to remain the same.  Even the most cursory study of the history of the church will reveal that the church has evolved and changed in many ways over the course of two millennia, with the exception of the Eastern Orthodox (just kidding; sort of).  This in itself is not surprising.  What Mitchell proposes is, I think, a unique way of explaining such change.  On the one hand, it seems reasonable to say that the changes we observe in the church's worship are simply due to the influence of a changing external culture.  While Mitchell acknowledges this to an extent (as per the first assertion), he also claims that there is a very intentional logic behind the change.  The church intentionally changes the outward form of worship in order to keep alive the spirit that lies behind the form.  As the church, we are called to render worship faithfully unto God, and I certainly believe that there are right and wrong ways to do so; a change in the church's established forms of worship is no flippant thing.  But the church is not called only to worship.  As Jesus reveals in His 'high-priestly prayer' to the Father, even though we are not of the world, we remain in it.  And it is in this world that we are also called to follow the way of Our Lord: to love our neighbor, to seek the lost, to make disciples, to stand in opposition to the injustices of the kingdoms of this world, to embrace the cross.  If a particular form of worship, which  empowered the faithful to do these things in another place and time, is no longer serving to facilitate this call, why should that form of worship not change?  Indeed, is it not necessary that it change "in order to remain the same", that is, to continue to enable the church to proclaim and live the Gospel?

The real question, as I see it, is neither to determine whether or not our worship is conditioned by culture, nor whether it should change.  The question is: How do we take part in a continual, intentional renewal of worship in a way that facilitates the mission of the church today while also preserving the integrity of the faith we have received?  At what point does a well-intentioned, missional attempt to change the form of our worship cross the line and begin to erode sound doctrine and the foundations of the faith?  Are there areas in the church today where this line has already been crossed?

What do you think?

Peace.                            

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Ye Holy Angels Bright

I couldn't resist posting this.  We sang no. 625, "Ye Holy Angels Bright", by the seventeenth century Puritan Richard Baxter, as our dismissal hymn in church today.  I was familiar with the tune (it's a great one, Darwall's 148th; I posted a video below), but it was the words that struck me.  I'm not sure I'd ever really listened to them before (or at least they had never so impressed me).  Such a beautiful hymn, and a stirring image of the communion of saints, both those "blessed souls at rest" and we "who toil below".  It is a communion that is not bound by space or time, and that includes also all the angelic host of heaven (as we were reminded yesterday, the feast of Saint Michael and All Angels).
Peace to you, and grace to "bear thou thy part" in the coming week.


Ye Holy Angels Bright
by Richard Baxter, revised by John Hampden Gurney

Ye holy angels bright,
Who wait at God's right hand,
Or through the realms of light
Fly at your Lord's command,
Assist our song, for else the theme
Too high doth seem for mortal tongue.

Ye blessed souls at rest,
Who ran this earthly race
And now, from sin released,
Behold the Savior's face,
God's praises sound, as in his sight
With sweet delight ye do abound.

Ye saints, who toil below,
Adore your heavenly King,
And onward as ye go
Some joyful anthem sing;
Take what he gives and praise him still
Through good or ill, who ever lives!

My soul, bear thou thy part,
Triumph in God above:
And with a well tuned heart
Sing thou the songs of love!
Let all thy days till life shall end
Whate'er he send, be filled with praise.





  

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Praying with Saints and Angels on Michaelmas

Everlasting God, you have ordained and constituted in a wonderful order the ministries of angels and mortals: Mercifully grant that, as your holy angels always serve and worship you in heaven, so by your appointment they may help and defend us here on earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~Collect for Feast of Saint Michael and All Angels

A short excerpt from Opening the Prayer Book, by Jeffrey Lee.  In Chapter Seven: Liturgy in Action, Lee writes about the intention behind the 1979 Book of Common Prayer to more fully realize the very reality proclaimed by the prayer book's title: namely, that the work, worship, and prayer of the church is to be primarily communal, not private.  It is certainly true that we are often less than resoundingly successful at living truly communal Christian lives, and Lee acknowledges that we often miss the mark.  I myself am aware of critics (and have to an extent shared in their concern) who allege that the variety of options in the current prayer book actually serves to undermine the unity of the church, that the diversity means we are in fact no longer a church of common prayer.  For this reason, I find Lee's assessment fascinating and helpful.  He writes that the 1979 prayer book "may look like prayer books from earlier times, but it is actually a resource library for pastoral liturgy", with the attendant necessity that every individual parish must be actively involved in determining how they will live into that liturgy.  The worshiping community does not simply open to a certain page and read straight through a single, standard set of prayers, hymns, and offerings.  Rather, the format, or "shape" of the liturgy is standard, while many details remain to be determined at the parish level.  Thus, we might say, the local community comes to have a sense of meaningful ownership in the liturgy.  Here is Lee writing about the communal reality of prayer.
We gather for common prayer.  In the last several decades, liturgical reformers within Anglicanism and among Christians in general have sought to reclaim a more vigorous understanding and practice of the communal dimension of Christian prayer.  For the Christian, in a real sense, there is no such thing as private prayer.  In fact, the word "private" shares a root with "deprivation" - privatio in Latin is to deprive.  This is not to deny the importance of times of personal prayer; but even personal prayer is fundamentally ecclesial in nature.  When Christians pray, they do so with the church, not in isolation, even if they are alone:  we pray always "with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of heaven" (BCP 362). 
Peace, and happy Michaelmas!


     

Sunday, September 23, 2012

E. B. Pusey: On Love

Grant us. O Lord, not to mind earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to cleave to those that shall abide; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~Collect for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

A final post taken from the writings of Dr. Edward Bouverie Pusey.  Pusey was regarded as a great preacher, not for his oratory, but for his depth and zeal.  His passionate love for God, and his desire to see that love imparted throughout the church, is readily displayed in the following.

Faint not, any who would love Jesus, if ye find yourselves yet far short of what He Himself who is Love saith of the love of Him.  Perfect love is Heaven.  When ye are perfected in love, your work on earth is done.  There is no short road to Heaven or to love.  Do what in thee lies by the grace of God, and He will lead thee from strength to strength, and grace to grace, and love to love ...
Think often, as thou canst, of God.  For how canst thou know or love God, if thou fillest thy mind with thoughts of all things under the sun and thy thoughts wander to the ends of the earth, and thou gatherest them not unto God?  Nothing (except wilful sin) so keepeth men tepid and lukewarm and holdeth them back from any higher fervour of love, as the being scattered among things of sense, and being taken up with them away from God.
Bring all things, as thou mayest, nigh to God; let not them hurry thee away from Him.
Be not held back by any thought of unworthiness or by failures, from the child-like love of God.  When we were dead in trespasses and sin, Christ died for us; when we were afar off, Christ recalled us; when lost, Christ sought us; how much more may we reverently love Him, and hope that we are loved by Him, when He has found us, and we, amid whatever frailties, would love Him by Whom we have been loved!
Be diligent, after thy power, to do deeds of love.  Think nothing too little, nothing too low, to do lovingly for the sake of God ... 
"Charity never faileth."  How then is all lost, which tendeth not to love!  O abyss of love, torrent of pleasure, life of them that believe, paradise of delights, comfort of our pilgrimage, reward of the blessed, root of all good, strength in all strife, rest in all weariness!  Why will ye "labor for that which is not bread", and toil for that which satisfieth not; why seek for pleasures which perish in the grasp, and when tasted, become bitterness; why heap up things ye must part with, or why love vanities, when ye have before ye love which cannot weary, cannot sate, cannot change, cannot fail; for Love is the Essence, the Bliss, the Being, the Glory of God; and this may be yours for evermore.  God in Whom are all things, Who is All-Goodness, willeth that ye love Him eternally, and be eternally filled with His Love, and enter into His Joy, the Joy of the Everlasting Father in His Co-Equal Son through the Spirit, of Both Proceeding, the Bond of Both, and that ye should rest in the Bosom of His Love, and His Love rest upon you and fill you for ever.  Will ye not then cast out now, for these few years, what hinders in you the Love of God, that ye may have for ever His Love which passeth all understanding, and be one with God, being filled with the Love of God Who is Love?
E. B. Pusey, Parochial Sermons, volume II 


  

Thursday, September 20, 2012

E.B. Pusey: Holy Communion

Among the many ways in which he influenced the course of Anglican spirituality, Dr. Pusey was one of the foremost advocates for a return to a doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist (I recently published a blog post on the same).  An indication of both the effectiveness of his preaching and the opposition he faced on this issue in 19th century England is the fact that he was barred from the pulpit for two years after preaching what the leadership of Oxford University considered to be a dangerous and erroneous sermon, "The Holy Eucharist, a Comfort to the Penitent".  The following excerpt is from another of his sermons on the subject of the Holy Communion.

The Holy Supper is not a gazing up into heaven after Christ.  No thoughts of Christ, however holy; no longings after Him, however sanctified; no wish to be with Him, however purified; no thoughts on His cross and Passion and Precious Death, however devout; no devotion of self to Him; no acknowledgment of Him as our Priest, Prophet, King, and God; no setting Him up in our hearts as (with the Father and the Holy Ghost) the One Object of our love; no reliance upon Him as the only Anchor of our soul, however real, comes up to the truth.  We ought to meditate on Him, long for Him, desire to be with Him, rely on Him, devote ourselves to Him; pledge ourselves to obey Him, and do what we have pledged.  We should look for His coming, avow Him, be ready in all things, in suffering as in joy, to be partakers with Him, partakers of His Cross, and Death, and Burial.  All this we should be at all times, but all this does not make us yet partakers of Him, for man cannot make himself a partaker of Him; He must give Himself.  As He gave Himself to the Death upon the Cross for our sins, so in the Holy Eucharist must He, if we are to be partakers of Him, give Himself to us.  We have of Him only what He giveth.  All Christian graces, although His work, are but messengers to prepare the way before Him.  Hope but putteth us in that expectant, longing state which He rewardeth; Faith but openeth the door to receive Him; Love or Charity but cleanseth the chamber of our hearts, which He is to inhabit; Repentance but breaketh the heart, and maketh it that contrite or broken spirit, wherein it pleaseth Him to dwell, but all this is not yet He.  He, "the Bread of Life which came down from heaven" must come down also into our hearts, if we are to be partakers of Him.  The Communion is not a mere going up of our hearts to Christ, but a coming down of Him to us.
E. B. Pusey, Parochial Sermons, volume III 
    

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

E.B. Pusey: The Hidden Life

Edward Bouverie Pusey was one of the leading voices of the Oxford Movement, the greatly influential catholic revival in the Church of England in the nineteenth century.  In anticipation of his feast day (today, 18 September), I spent some time over the weekend perusing a book entitled The Mind of the Oxford Movement, edited by Owen Chadwick.  Great stuff, timely and challenging; in fact, I had intended to simply post a short excerpt from one of Pusey's sermons, but I couldn't make up my mind.  In consequence, I'll be sharing a few selections here over the next few days.  To begin, here is Pusey speaking of "the hidden life":
As this hidden life is obtained by deadness to the world - "ye are dead and your life is hid with Christ in God" - so, by that deadness, is it to be cherished, maintained, perfected.  Death to the world is life to God; the life in God deadens to the world.  By Baptism we were made partakers of Christ's Death, that we might henceforth share His Life ... The less we live for things outward, the stronger burns our inward life.  The more we live amid the distractions of the world, the less vivid is the life of the soul.  The more we live to things unseen, the less hold will this world of sense have over us.  The more we make anything seen our end, any thing short of approving ourselves to God, the more will our hidden life decay.  It matters not wherein we are employed, but how.  We may in the most sacred things forget God, or in the most common things serve Him.  We may be promoting His Truth, and ourselves be but the unfruitful conduit through which It flows to water the earth; or we may in the meanest things of this earth be living to His Glory and thereby promoting it.  Everything seen, even the outward Coming of God's Kingdom, may make men lose sight of God; in every meanest duty the quickened eye may see Him the Invisible.  Self-denying duty, love, and contemplation, together advance this hidden life.  Alone, self-denying duty were austere and hard; love were weak and faint; contemplation but imaginative or sensual.  Together, self-denial deadens the flesh; deeds of love soften the spirit; contemplation fixes the soul upon God ...
This, then, is our office; to see how, day by day, we may be ourselves more hidden from the world, that we may be more with God; how to discharge our duties in it, so as more to forget ourselves and remember God only; to consider this only, how they may be done, so as best to please Him; how self may least mingle in them; to seek no bye-ends of our own, no applause of men, nor our own; rather to seek how we may escape men's praise, that we may win God's; escape men's sight and be seen by our "Father Who seeth in secret" only, and have that in store with Him, which He, "in the last day", "will reward openly"; to be content with the least; desire no more than we have; be thankful to escape the snares of those who have what we have not; be glad, if it may be, to have less, that others may abound; to disburden ourselves of wealth by giving to Christ's poor; forget self in others, love others in God; seek only to be "buried with Christ" from this world and its vanities, hidden in His Tomb, so that all the show and pomps of this world may but flit around us as unreal things, but not catch our gaze, nor draw our hearts, which have been "buried with Him" and are now "risen with Him."
E. B. Pusey,  from Sermons  during the season from Advent to Whitsuntide 
   
    

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A Prayer for the Human Family

With a desire both to enrich my prayer life and to become more immersed in the spirituality of The Book of Common Prayer, I have just recently begun praying through the various numbered "Prayers and Thanksgivings" during my times of daily prayer.  As it happened, today I prayed number three, For the Human Family.  It seemed especially appropriate today, on the anniversary of the September 11 attacks.

O God, you made us in your image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Christ in the Eucharist

"For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink.  He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in Him."
~ John 6:55-56

With the successive gospel readings from the sixth chapter of John over the past several Sundays, I've been thinking about Jesus as the Bread of Life.  Of course, every Sunday we believe that we gather to partake of this Bread in the Eucharist (i.e. the Lord's Supper, the Mass, Holy Communion),  "the holy food and drink of new and unending life in him", the sacrament whereby we are strengthened by God's grace and drawn into closer union with God in Christ.  The power and consolation of this central act of our worship has been made more real to me of late, as I've been consciously seeking to open myself more willingly to the Spirit and grow closer to Jesus.  I believe that in these earthy gifts of bread and wine, by God's grace I encounter the real presence of Christ.

It is curious to me that so many Christians lay such emphasis upon negating a sacramental theology of the Eucharist, that is, in stressing that "these are only symbols, and we only do this 'in remembrance'; there is no special grace or power to be received here" (incidentally, it's my understanding that the Greek word anamnesis has significantly deeper meaning than our English remembrance, a meaning that imparts living into the reality of a past event, not merely thinking about it.  I really need to learn Greek one of these days; I can only imagine how much it opens up the Scriptures).  Apart from the very early and continuing tradition of the church (a line of argument which unfortunately may not carry much weight with many Protestants) there is the testimony of Scripture.  I would even say that a view of the Lord's Supper as memorial only, to the point of denying the real presence of Christ, is not grounded in the Bible, but rather in a reaction to the perceived abuses and/or excesses of the church of the middle ages.  To be sure, there was much need for reform and renewal in the church of the sixteenth century, and it was in this context that the Protestant traditions were born.  Unfortunately, it is still the reactionary context in which many continue.  

But what do the Scriptures say?  In the synoptic gospels, Jesus speaks with little elaboration, "This is my body ... this is my blood."  Paul writes about the imperative of not drinking "the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner" in a passage that seems to make clear that we partake of a powerful spiritual reality in this meal, a reality that unites us truly, not just symbolically.  "Is not the cup of blessing which we bless a sharing in the blood of Christ?  Is not the bread which we break a sharing in the body of Christ?  Since there is one bread, we who are many are one body; for we all partake of the one bread."

And then there is Jesus as the Bread of Life in John's gospel.  Jesus says, "I am the living bread that came down out of heaven; if anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever; and the bread also which I shall give for the life of the world is My flesh."  The crowd is incredulous; "How can this man give us His flesh to eat?"  I can imagine them arguing and scratching their heads, trying to make sense of it: "Well, this guy is obviously crazy! ... No, no, he must be speaking metaphorically ... Surely, you don't think he actually means what he is saying?"  And Jesus answers: "My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink.  He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in Him."  The message is not to be taken literally (Jesus is obviously not advocating cannibalism), but neither is this mere metaphor.  Here is a reality that goes deep, beyond what is seen, beyond what can be comprehended  rationally.  But it is a reality that gives eternal life and affects the union of man to God.  This is indeed a mystery, sacramentum.  The crowd, not surprisingly, responds, "This is a difficult statement; who can listen to it?" and many abandon him.

It is a difficult statement, and a hard thing to which Jesus calls us.  For, as my priest pointed out in her homily this morning, it is not only life to which Christ calls us, but death also, death to ourselves and the corruption of the world.  We eat of the Bread of Life even as we share the Cup of His Passion.  In the Eucharist we turn away from the dying things of this world, and take hold of that which is real.

We Christians separate ourselves from one another over so many things.  But it is truly sad that the very act which Our Lord commanded and gave us to draw us to Himself and one another in unity, has become such a cause of division.  Yet I believe that the Eucharist remains as God intended it, a sacrament of grace and union, and that He will even still draw us together around His table, that we who are many may find ourselves one in Christ. I pray that God hastens the day.  Peace.

And we earnestly desire thy fatherly goodness to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, whereby we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies.  Grant, we beseech thee, that all who partake of this Holy Communion may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ, and be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction; and also that we and all thy whole Church may be made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord; 
By whom, and with whom, and in whom, in the unity of the Holy Ghost all honor and glory be unto thee, O Father Almighty, world without end.  AMEN.
 ~from Eucharistic Prayer II, Rite I, BCP