On Liturgical Naming: Categories

Starting in this post and continuing in this post, I’ve been doing some thinking about the liturgical naming of our ecclesiology particular with reference to the dead and the saints. My focus there was looking at prayers and practices that try and express through language the contours of the spiritual community.

There are other ways that liturgies inform our understanding of spiritual community, though, and one of the most important is categorization. That is, through the vehicle of the Commons of the Saints, liturgies provide us a framework for understanding what sanctity looks like and charts out identifiable routes to sanctity.

This notions of commons and categories arose pretty early in the church’s worship. By the fourth century, we had three clear categories in particular: martyrs, confessors, and virgins. The martyrs were, of course, those who had died in the persecutions and had given the ultimate witness to the steadfastness of their beliefs. Confessors were those who had been tortured for their beliefs yet had survived. The historians’ descriptions of the bishops at Nicaea give us a sense of this. Theodoret writes:

Paul, bishop of Neo-Cæsarea, a fortress situated on the banks of the Euphrates, had suffered from the frantic rage of Licinius. He had been deprived of the use of both hands by the application of a red-hot iron, by which the nerves which give motion to the muscles had been contracted and rendered dead. Some had had the right eye dug out, others had lost the right arm. Among these was Paphnutius of Egypt. In short, the Council looked like an assembled army of martyrs. (EH 1.7)

Virgins were women who had pledged themselves to virginity and who were typically martyrs as well. (In fact, I can’t recall off the top of my head any 5th century or earlier virgin saints who weren’t martyrs…)

I want you to notice something about this list. Martyr, confessor, and virgin aren’t job descriptions. It’s not about careers. Yes, many of the martyrs and confessors were bishops, priests or deacons but not all. But let’s also recall that taking any sort of leadership position in the church in the age of persecution was equivalent to painting a bulls-eye on your chest.

If I had to try and describe how these folks were being grouped, I think it would have to be something about dedication to the faith. Again, martyrs were those who had given the ultimate witness about their dedication. The confessors displayed with their bodies the depths of their commitment. Same with the virgins. Their dedication to the church not only deprived them of sex (which is pretty much the only way we think about it these days), but—more importantly and more significantly—deprived them of the whole social safety net for women which placed them in dependence to their spouse and children. And a virgin was giving up both.

So—this construction of sanctity seems to be oriented around levels of dedication or commitment to the Gospel.

There was a shift in how these categories were understood as we make the turn from Late Antiquity and into the Early Medieval Western Church. When we look at the main line of the Gregorian and Gelasian sacramentaries and other liturgies we see a clear set of folks that tends to start from the liturgical naming found in the Te Deum. Thus, hymns and sermons of the period talk about the angels, patriarchs, prophets, John the Baptist, the apostles, marytrs, confessors, and monks & virgins.

When we look at this list in relation to Carolingian homilies, it is described as being a temporally sequential list. First there were angels, then partiarchs, then prophets (then Jesus), then apostles, then martyrs, then—once the period of persecutions were over–confessors. Furthermore, these confessors were clergy and, when you actually check the kalendars, virtually all of them were either bishops or abbots (who were hierarchically on the same level as bishops). So, you had a strong redefinition of the term “confessors” (concerning which AKMA and I had a good discussion in the comments section of the post linked to above). By the end of the Early Medieval period, the categories where people were being added were Confessor (= Abbot/Bishop), Doctor, Monk/Hermit/Virgin.

In a sense, you have a professionalization of the sanctoral categories.

On one hand, this method of defining sanctity makes me uncomfortable. It says that only people who have established professional places within the Church’s hierarchy are eligible to be declared as saints. That is, you’ve either got to be high-level clergy or religious or  forget about it. And that’s just not right.

On the other hand, the people who were living these kalendars day in and day out were clergy and religious. Even in the Early Medieval period there was a practical distinction between the saints revered by the people and saints revered by the monks. (Aelfric makes this distinction in the intro to his Lives of the Saints as one data point.) Thus, the clergy and religious were lifting up examples for themselves. That makes it a little more understandable—and reveals to me the depth of my own bias that insists that laypeople can and should be saints too…

This tendency and set of categories dominated the thinking of the Western Church until the current day. A decent representative list (actually more inclusive than some) is that of the Commons of the  Anglican Breviary:

  •   the BVM
  • Apostles
  • Evangelists
  • Martyrs
  • Bishop Confessor
  • Doctor [often combined with the above]
  • Confessor not a Bishop
  • Abbots, Hermits, and Monks
  • Saints not Martyrs
  • Virgins
  • Holy Women [Not married but not virgin, i.e., penitents]
  • Matrons/Widows [i.e., women not virgins]

Since I’m a breviary programmer, when I see this list I automatically read it as a hierarchical tree-structure taxonomy. Or, to shift metaphors, you use it by sorting things into buckets that contain smaller buckets until you’ve found the right bucket. Thus, if we wanted to celebrate St Cecelia we’d analyze her as saint:(female):virgin:virgin_martyr. In the Anglican Breviary, that means we’d use Common 12.2.

One of the issues this raises is that when e see a tree-taxonomy laid out this way there’s a natural human tendency to read value into the order. The higher on the list, the cooler you are. That leads to logic like the following:

  • the BVM is the coolest of all (actually, this one’s true…)
  • martyrs are cooler than non-martyrs
  • Bishop Confessors are cooler than Confessors not a Bishop
  • boy saints (Commons 2-11) are cooler than girl saints (Commons 12-14)
  • The coolness of girl saints is determined by the amount of sex they had

Since we’re talking about saints, coolness is invariably replaced by “holiness.” And this leads me in places where I’m simply not willing to go. No, a bishop is not inherently holier than a matron; it simply doesn’t work like that. Of course, there were mitigating factors in actual liturgical practice like the class of feast that various saints received. Thus, it was not uncommon for a Bishop Martyr to only receive a simple while a Matron like Bridget of Sweden might be a double or higher in some places.

Nevertheless, this is what we inherited: a tree-structure that had morphed from devotion into profession.

When the 1979 BCP decided to start using Commons of Saints, this was the starting place. Moving from here we have Commons reflecting something both similar and different:

  • Of a Martyr
    • the first mentions explicitly witness in official or politically-sponsored oppression (“before the rulers of this world”)
    • the third is generic but the use of “her” as the default pronoun and the similarity to the payers for monastics suggests this collect for Virgin Martyrs
  • Of a Missionary
  • Of a Pastor
    • The second contains a bracketed clause specifically for “bishops”
  • Of a Theologian and Teacher
  • Of a Monastic
  • Of a Saint

(See more on this here.)

This also gives us a hierarchical tree-structure taxonomy. What it does is to mitigate some of the problematic issues around both gender and professionalism that I find in the earlier one. Bishops are no longer the automatic top of the heap once we leave the martyr category and that’s good. Furthermore, women aren’t isolated into a secondary place. That’s good too. It’s still based on a bucket-system/tree-structure. Now if we go looking for St Cecilia we find that she is saint:martyr:virgin_martyr. Same specificity, less baggage.

Looking at the sanctoral kalendar printed in the BCP you’ll find that most folks have epithets that direct you to one of these categories. Not all, though—no epithets direct you to “Theologian and Teacher”; you have to figure those out on your own. Overall, the epithets tend to be professional: “Bishop of X”, “Priest”, “King”, Abbess”, “Princess” etc. and more often than not ecclesiastical. This is an observation, rather than a strict judgement.

In the Anglican Breviary or a Roman kalendar, the epithets have a strict and clear correlation to the Commons.  By glancing at the entry, you know what set of prayers, etc. to use. The BCP epithets give a strong correlation to the Commons but it is not as strict and clear as the Roman particularly around the distinction between pastors and teachers.

Now we turn to Holy Women, Holy Men.

The new entries display a dazzling array of new epithets: “Witness to the Faith”, “Iconographer”, “Prophetic Witness”, “Friend of the Poor”, “Educators”, “Pioneers in Medicine”, etc. Furthermore, we have “Teacher” or “Theologian” added to some pre-existing folks in addition to titles like “Bishop” or “Priest” that they already held. In one sense this makes things easier, in another it doesn’t—which Common do you pick for this person/these people?

Furthermore, some people who were recognized separately are now grouped together.

What’s going on here?

There’s a very simple explanation, actually, and it goes back to our discussion of taxonomies.  What we’re seeing is the effect of new technologies and media on taxonomy: these aren’t categories, they’re tags. When you mass all of these together, you realize that we’re not dealing with a hierarchical bucket-system/tree structure. Instead, individuals are being tagged by a set of labels that don’t have a hierarchical-structural valence.  Groups are then formed by assimilating high-correspondence tag clusters. Thus, we receive: Johann Sebastian Bach, 1750, George Frederick Handel, 1759, and Henry Purcell, 1695, Composers. They’re celebrated together based on a profession tag.

To go back to Cecilia, in this system she’s simply be (virgin, martyr, patron:music). And no one of these takes precedence, predominance or preeminence over any of the others.

A tag-based cloud taxonomy removes some of the problems and dis-ease I was feeling earlier. This is a fundamentally non-hierarchical system of taxonomy. Even tagging girl and boy saints does not thereby impute value to either category. This is a win. But in this win, what have we lost?

A tag-based construction of sanctity breaks apart the old system of categorization. Despite its flaws, the old system gave us a clear conceptualization of what sort of roles and levels of dedication to the Gospel were necessary in order to strive towards sainthood. In a cloud taxonomy, that clarity is gone. We don’t have something specific to aim at any more.

The creation of new Commons furthers this thinking. In the back of HWHM there are the BCP Commons, then a group of prayers identified as “New Commons for Various Occasions”. A whole bunch of things are mixed in here. Some of these are people-tags (“Artists & Writers”, “Prophetic Witness in Society”) some of these are event-tags (“On the Occasion of a Disaster”) while more are concept-tags (“Goodness of God’s Creation”, “Reconciliation and Forgiveness”, “Space Exploration”). As I think through the eminently practical question of how I would code these into the breviary, I feel caught between two different paradigms, two different taxonomies, and—therefore—two different ways for how Episcopalians are expected to conceptualize what the life of sanctity looks like.

It seems—well—cloudy…

Big Breviary Announcement!

I’m happy to announce a collaboration between the St Bede’s Breviary and Forward Movement! Fr. Scott Gunn, the new Executive Director of Forward Movement, has a vision to bring Forward Movement further into the digital age; using a cut-down version of the breviary’s code base, we’re working on both a new web site and a mobile app that will incorporate both the Daily Office and Forward Day-by-Day among other things.

I’ve consistently received two questions since the launch of the breviary—1) when will there be an iPhone/iPad app and 2) when will there be a printed version. I can now answer the first! There are a number of moving parts here, so we’re currently projecting a ship date in the 1st quarter of 2012.

Needless to say—I’ll keep you updated!

For those of you with mobile devices who enjoy the breviary, you might like to try this out as an intermediary step as development continues: a mobile-optimized version of the breviary. (Due to spotty implementation of the xhtml+mp, I don’t recommend trying to use it with a desktop browser…)

Continuing Coverage of the Revolution

I saw this on the Chant Cafe this morning: The Simple English Propers music project—for the Kindle.

I can’t offer a review yet because I haven’t bought it quite yet though I fully intend to and will report back once I have. What I want to call your attention to is the technological shift in communicating content.

Usable music publishing in the electronic space opens up all kinds of amazing possibilities for recovering and disseminating church music. Doubly so for music that does not have a copyright or where copyright makes no sense (like with most chant whether Gregorian or Anglican…) The issue is not whether this can be done or will be done. The question is who will do it and will they do it well.

Offices of the Dead for All Souls

After more delay than I intended, I finally have some votive offices for the dead up at the breviary in time for All Souls. Following the discussion here on kinds of votive offices, these are replacement offices—offices intended to be said in place of (rather than supplemental to) the regular morning and evening offices.

The cookies that hold preferences for the regular offices are still in effect here particularly in regard to antiphons; elements for the BVM are not included in these offices.

So, here they are:

The Office for the Dead: Morning Prayer

The Office for the Dead: Evening Prayer

New Internet Home for Sarum Rite Chant Materials

For those of you familiar with Dr. William Renwick’s efforts in producing the Chant of the Sarum Office, you’ll be happy to learn that he has a new site dedicated to his materials. It can be found here:

http://www.sarum-chant.ca/

Update your links accordingly…

Note, too, that he intends to include both the Missal and the Processional in addition to the Office.

Saints and Fathers: Serendipitous Edition

I have to confess that I have been in a bit of a spiritual malaise recently. One of the things that I’ve started doing in response is reading a homily or two of the fathers before I go to bed. For Christmas last year I received a volume of the sermons of St. Maximus of Turin. If you’re not sure exactly who he is, don’t feel so that – you’re not alone. He was a bishop of the Italian city of Turin who died in the opening years of the fifth century. The sermons of St. Maximus were quite popular during the Carolingian period, and Paul the Deacon’s homiliary includes quite a number of his pieces. However, interest in him kind of dropped off after that whole high medieval thing.

In any case, I was reading over one of his homilies last night and was very interested to find the following section. I think it ties in quite nicely with some of our recent discussions about the saints, the blessed dead, and the regular dead. This sermon was for the feast of Saints Peter and Paul. He has been talking about Peter’s vision of the sheet full of animals and connects it to the conversion of the nations. We pick him up at that point:

For when we see the throngs of the nations hasten to the Christian faith, we rejoice together with the apostles. For those whose anniversary we celebrate today are not dead but reborn. It is clear that they are alive because they have become partakers in Christ, who is life. Although their bodies have been slain in suffering nonetheless the process of life has not been interrupted. For they still give thanks to God and offer praises to the Savior, and in fact they adhere more closely to Christ inasmuch as their members are no longer bound together as the apostle Paul says: to be dissolved and to be with Christ is better by far. Thus that should not be called death which, when it occurs, separates us from our persecutors and joins us to Christ. It is clear that that should not be called death which associates the one who has died with Christ and brings gain to the dying, as the blessed apostle says: for me to live is Christ and to die is gain. But that is real death which binds by the death of sinners even the living person who although he appears to be alive seems nonetheless already given over to death. In this respect the apostle says of that voluptuous widow: while living she has already died. [Sermon 2.3]

The key here for me, is his emphasis that the whole nature of death has changed for us who are bound to Christ. As Christians we now look at death differently. His language of binding and joining and dissolving works better in Latin than in English because of the way the Latin words share parts of one another. To be living, to be alive, is determined by the nature of our relationship with the living Christ. The closer we cleave to Christ the more alive we are no matter what our biological state might be. He also builds out the contrary position: the further we are from Christ – even if we are still biologically alive– the more in death we are.

Books and Beauty: Liturgical Layout

Over at the New Liturgical Movement, the editor Shawn Tribe has written an interesting piece proposing a set of guiding principles for missal layout coinciding with the new Roman translation of the Novus Ordo mass.

Upon seeing the article, I was immediately reminded of the words of Percy Dearmer on the subject of liturgical books and layout which are well worth repeating in full:

It is an established convention that the books associated with religious worship shall be not only bound in black or at best in dingy colours, but shall be printed and arranged in the most repellent manner. It is almost impossible to procure Bibles and Prayer Books printed in good type and arranged in the best way, as other books are arranged. Occasionally well-bound copies are given as presents — thirty years ago they were still dismal, however great their cost, though today they are brighter outside — but when you open these expensive copies, the same ugly typography meets your eye. Now a publisher who issued a new book in such type, chopped it up into short verses, sprinkled it with unemphasized words in italics, arranged it in narrow columns with cramped margins, spaced the verse as if it were prose, eschewed quotation marks in his dialogue, and finally encased the whole in cheap black cloth — such a publisher would be bankrupt in a year. However good his books, people simply would not read them. (Art of Public Worship, 33.)

Dearmer called for beautiful books that would be worthy of and properly honor (honour?) both the words that they conveyed and the dignity of public worship for which they were intended.

Apart from a few fits and starts in this direction, not many folks have heeded him… (The outstanding outliers in this case were the English printer Pickering and the American Daniel Updike. [Corrected per comments!] For more on this topic see Martin Hunter’s essay “Prayer Books and Printers” in The Oxford Guide to the BCP.)

C’mon folks! In this age of computer printing and graphic work there is absolutely no reason why liturgical works cannot be beautiful! Indeed, care and beauty on the front end can make a well thought-through and designed book more functional than an ugly one!

I have seen in draft a missal for the monastics, oblates, and friends of the Order of Julian of Norwich which holds great promise in this regard, but these sorts of works should be the rule—not the exception.

CWOB and the Diocese of Connecticut

This resolution passed at the convention of the Diocese of Connecticut:

Resolution #10: year-long Dialogue on Communion of the Unbaptized PASSED AS AMENDED

This resolution was much debated as well. It started with an amendment to change “open communion” to “communion of the unbaptized” for clarification. which passed.

Final language: RESOLVED:  That the 227th Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of Connecticut declares a year for theological and catechetical reflection, dialogue, discussion, conversation and listening among parishes of this diocese on “Communion of the Unbaptized” [welcoming all, baptized or not, to Holy Communion]; and be it further,
RESOLVED:  That the laity make their voices heard to the bishop and clergy as they explore this sacrament.

Couple of things here…

First, I’m wary of the words “dialogue” and “conversation” in the Episcopal Church. This generally seems to be shorthand for: “We know better than you on this topic and we’re going to have a ‘dialogue’ until you see the error of your ways and agree with me at which point our dialogue will be done.” I will be very interested to see what form this “dialogue” takes. What sort of theological and catechetical material will be used to guide the reflection?

Who really will get to have a voice at the table?

…And that brings me to my second thing…

What the heck does that last line mean? Let’s take another look at it: “That the laity make their voices heard to the bishop and clergy as they explore this sacrament.” What is the rhetorical purpose and the political valence of this sentence?

Two options immediately present themselves.

The first is a simple and straight-forward wish that all orders of ministry will have an opportunity to have a say in the matter. Well, yeah—isn’t this kind of the point of our whole process? Isn’t this how our polity is different from the COE and other Anglican churches? Perhaps I’ve been in church circles too long but this seems a little too much like wide-eyed naivete; I’m feeling something a little disingenuous here…

The second is a sneaking suspicion that the appeal to “the laity” is an attempt to stack the deck. I truly believe that the current argument around CWOB is neither a theological nor a sacramental argument. Instead, it’s an issue of identity that rests primarily upon an emotional appeal. That is, I think it’s less about theology and a lot more about how we perceive ourselves and shape the face we offer to the world; CWOB advocates intend it as a message that we are open, inclusive, and welcoming. I have no problem with framing ourselves this way–but CWOB is not the way to do it!!

Are the folks behind this line thinking that the laity will be swayed more by this sort of an emotional appeal than a theological one?

I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see more resolutions like this popping up a conventions going forward . This will be a very important resolution and “dialogue” to follow over the coming year.

Media and Meaning

Over at Seven Whole Days, Scott Gunn has posted a very interesting reflection on the church in the age of social media.

There’s no question that social media has already had an enormous impact on the shape of the global religious landscape and will continue to do so. In fact, I’d attribute most of the church splits and schisms over the last decade as being driven either in part or completely by social movements fostered and enable by new media. As far as I’m concerned, the Episcopal split and the formation of the ACNA would not have happened if blogs and blog networks had not been able to focus opposition to 815 and gain/create a critical mass willing to leave.

On the other hand, I know I personally have met and been nurtured by a wonderful group of people—some I knew or have come to know offline, others not—through social media interactions, most notably  this blog.

I just want to make two quick points.

First, from a systems-perspective, the problem of our age is not access to data. We have too much of it. We’re completely awash in information. Some of it is useful and important—some of it less so.The problem of our age is the analysis and organization of data into useful—and comprehensible—chunks.This is one of the broad functions of social media. No-one can sift through all of the news/information/books/essays/thoughts/etc. out there. It’s simply not possible. What social media does is, essentially, to serve as a crowd-sourced filtration and data organization device. Our friends and acquaintances access some bits and post or pass on what seems most meaningful to them. Social circles feed and amplify certain themes, stories, and concepts. We’ve got to use this tool but at the same time be very aware of the shadow-side of this strength: it’s really easy to get caught up in your own echo-chamber where all you hear are the kinds of stories, news,and statistics that reinforce what you already think and believe. As more and more of us rely more and more on the internet for our news and locus of critical reflection, we must also be intentional about cultivating friends and acquaintance who can challenge us enough to keep us from being locked into a simple and simplistic way of thinking and processing.

Second, when social media gets discussed, it usually means Facebook and Twitter. I think it’s fair to say that there has been a certain decrease in blog activity over the last several years—especially since the rise of Facebook. But I must strenuously protest: blogs have their place!! There are two things that blogs do better than Facebook. The first is the retention of a surface anonymity. Anonymity online is a source of liberation. It enables us to say and do things we can’t with a name attached. Yeah, I know—that can be a Bad Thing, and trolls will always be with us… Nevertheless, sometimes people need anonymity to provide a critical space for their own growth and reflection. Some of my favorite bloggers either are or were anonymous. I was semi-anonymous for a while myself. I don’t think it’s always a problem, and find it healthy for those just growing their wings.

The second thing that blogs can do that Facebook can’t is to provide a forum for the thoughtful essay. The essay genre is perfect for blogs. Facebook, not so much. If we are going to engage in thoughtful, compelling reflection, we need more space to develop a substantive body of thought than Facebook and Twitter provide. The best route is, of course, integration: using Facebook and Twitter to circulate pull-quotes that lead readers into the blog. (Not I do this myself, of course, but I still think it’s the best way to go…) In the article referenced above, Scott+ linked to a Reflections edition focused entirely on New Media. As I scanned the table of contents, I didn’t recognize the name of one person as a long-standing blogger of note. To me, that’s a serious oversight. You have people writing on the new media—but you leave out one of the central platforms? Hello?

Naming Spiritual Communities in the Sarum Rite

I was thinking aloud a few days ago about the liturgical act of acknowledging the dimensions of our spiritual community. It occurs to me that a quick glance at the Sarum Rite will give some really interesting examples of what I mean… (Note: most of the things I say here will be broadly applicable to the Historic Western Liturgy—I’m just focusing on the Late Sarum because it gives a nice nailed-down example that I can conveniently point to.)

First, there’s the exercise of the capitular office. Four major things happened here. First, it was the monastic/cathedral daily check-in meeting. Second, there was a reading from the Rule or the Fathers. Items three and four are the reason I’m bring it up. Third, it was a list of obits that identified anyone in the community’s records who had died on that day. Fourth, the hagiographies were reviewed for the saints who would be celebrated that evening and the next day.

Before Mass on Sundays there was a procession. That procession would include the following prayers bid by the priest “in the mother tongue”:

 “Let us make our Prayers to God,” [here was sometimes added, “Our Lord Jesu Christ, to our Ladie S. Mary, and all the Company of Heaven,”] beseeching His Mercy for all Holy Church, that God keep it in good estate, especially the Church of England, our Mother Church, this Church, and all others in Christendom.” [Here sometimes was added, “For our Lord the Pope, for the Patriarch of Jerusalem, for the Cardinals.”] “For the Archbishops and Bishops, and especially for our Bishop N., that God keep him in his holy service. For the Dean or Rector, or all other Ministers, that serve this Church.” [This was sometimes varied “For your ghostly father, and for Priests and Clerkes that herein serve or have ferved, for all men and women of religion, for all other men of Holy Church.”] For the Holy Land [and the Holy Cross], that God deliver it out of the hand of the heathen; for the Peace of the Church and of the earth; for our Sovereign Lord the King, and the Qyeen, and all their children. For [Dukes, Earls, and Barons, and for all that have the peace of this land to keep], all that have this land to govern. For the welfare of N. and N., and all this Church’s friends. [For all that live in deadly sin.] For our brethren and sisters, and all our Parishioners, and all that do any good to this Church or Foundation. For yourselves, that God for His mercy grant you grace so to live as your soul to save, and for all true Christian people.

Thus we’ve got a naming here of a whole bunch of folks—from the saints to the geographically dispersed to the deceased to one another. It does name quite a community to keep in mind.

At the beginning of the Mass itself, we have a form of the Confiteor:

I confess to God, to blessed Mary, to all the saints, and to you, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, by my fault : I pray holy Mary, all the saints of God,  and you, to pray for me.

I’m more used to the modern form where it calls out more of the saints by name, however, Not only does the Confiteor name the saints—mirroring the prayer at the procession—it places them in the proper relationship to us; we pray together for one another.

The beginning of the Canon of the Mass likewise begins with a very clear naming of the gathered spiritual community (rubrics are parenthetical):

…together with thy servants our Pope N. and our Bishop N. (That is to say, the bishop of the diocese only,) and our King N. (The above persons are mentioned by name. Then shall follow : ) and all who are orthodox, and who hold the catholic and apostolic faith. Remember, O Lord, thy servants and thy handmaidens N. and N. (in praying for whom a due order dictated by charity ought to be observed. The priest prays five times : firstly for himself; secondly for his father and mother, that is to say both carnal and spiritual, and for his other relations; thirdly, for his special friends, parishioners and otherwise; fourthly, for all persons present; fifthly, for all Christian people; and here the priest may commend all his own friends to God. I counsel, however, that no one should pause at this point too long, both on account of possible distractions of mind, and also on account of suggestions which may be made by evil angels, as well as on account of other dangers.) and all here present, whose faith is approved, and whose devotion is known to thee; on behalf of whom we offer unto thee, or who offer unto thee this sacrifice of praise, for themselves and for all pertaining to them, for the redemption of their souls, for the hope of their own salvation and security, and who are paying their vows unto thee, the eternal, living, and true God. In communion with and reverencing the memory, in the first place, of the glorious and ever virgin (inclining a little as he says,) Mary, mother of our God and Lord Jesus Christ ; As also of thy blessed apostles and martyrs—Peter, Paul, Andrew, James, John, Thomas, James, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Simon, and Thaddseus, Linus, Cletus, Clement, Sixtus, Cornelius, Cyprian. Laurence, Chrysogonus, John and Paul, Cosmas and Damian, and of all thy saints; through whose merits and prayers do thou grant that in all things we may be defended by the aid of thy protection. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.

That initial “together” kicks off quite a clear naming of who all has gathered: the living, the dead, the saints, and anybody else who might not fall neatly into any of those categories.

That’s just a few examples; doubtless many more could be produced. Notice something here: all of these prayers are very much present tense. The point is not that they’re liturgically remembering historical figures—however fondly. Rather, these prayers are naming the current, present members of the spiritual community whether they happen to be visibly present or not.

Now, this rite does a great job with this liturgical naming—when it’s considered as a text. The actual liturgical experience of it would be quite different. The laity would hear the processional prayer in their native tongue;  the monastic or cathedral Chapter would here the capitular office; the confiteor would be heard by the altar party and basically only the priest would have heard the section that starts the Canon. There’s a great ecclesiology present here; the fact that so much of it is liturgically inaccessible to the majority of the physically gathered community does seem a little ironic.