Apocrypha and Psuedepigrapha for Medievalists

Laying Out the Territory

A medievalist comrade has put up a reading plan to get better acquainted with the Biblical Apocrypha and Psuedepigrapha, and asked for comments. As a Medievalist with a PhD in New Testament this question is right up my alley. Here are a few thoughts…

First off, definitions. Recall for a moment that the bulk of our Old Testament was written in Hebrew. Generally speaking, we tend to agree that the biblical books were put down in writing in the period between the 8th and the 3rd centuries BC with some material (whether oral or written) going back as far as the 10th century, and a few pieces perhaps older still. After the Exile to Babylon (587-515), the main language of most of the people was Aramaic and we see traces of this in Daniel where the bulk of the book is actually in Aramaic.

Because of the destructions, scatterings, persecutions, etc. a fair number of Jewish folks no longer lived in the Holy Land. Those who lived outside tended to speak the same language as everyone else in “the civilized world”, i.e., Greek. Thus it’s no surprise that the educated community in the intellectual capital of Alexandria translated their Scriptures into Greek, various parts at various points, in and around the 2nd century BC. And this is where our story really starts: apocrypha is the term generally used to describe the books that appear in the Septuagint (LXX), but not the Hebrew/Aramaic Old Testament.

The pseudepigrapha is the term used to describe religious writings from this same general period (3rd century BC to—oh, say—the 5th century AD) that present themselves under the name of a figure from biblical history.   Daniel is the only such book in the OT Canon; there are arguments over whether some of the NT Epistles are pseudepigraphal as well, particularly Jude and 2nd Peter.

A related but different term is apocalyptic; this refers not to a distinct body of literature but to an attitude or theological stance that tends to use a grand style of rhetoric with quite a lot of mythic, poetic, and allusive (sometimes elusive) language to communicate theological thoughts and themes, generally to a people who perceive themselves to be in persecution. This kind of rhetoric is quite common in the pseudepigrapha.

Conventionally, we scholar types tend to talk about “OT Pseudepigrapha” and “NT Pseudepigrapha”. The first refers to books purporting to be by OT people and events, the second about NT people and events. This isn’t always a helpful division, though, especially when trying to grapple with the popular religion of the first centuries BC and AD. I’d rather we discuss whether texts are Jewish or Christian Pseudepigrapha and the short answer is that most of what has survived is either Christian or has been Christianized. Thus, it tends to teach us far more about early Christianity (a gentile phenomenon after the first couple of generations) than about 2nd Temple Judaism—1 Enoch being the major exception. [“Second Temple Judaism” is a technical term describing the competing and conflicting bodies of belief that grew out of “Hebrew/Israelite religion” in the period between the Exile and the Fall of Herod’s Temple (AD 70)]

Ok—now we can actually turn to the question at hand… I’ll begin by identifying some major collections of literature, then talk about them in relation to the task at hand. Looking at Brandon’s reading list, it does fall fairly naturally into groups based on the four primary source collections he has identified and one he identified earlier but didn’t include in the primary source section:

  • OT Apocrypha
  • OT psuedepigrapha (OTP)
  • NT pseudepigrapha (NTP)
  • the Gnostic materials from Nag Hammadi (NH)
  • the Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS)

All of these are fascinating documents. I have, at one point or another, read through these. But before we look at each one, a fundamental question that must be wrestled with is that of purpose. Why are we looking at these? Is it because they’re inherently interesting and cool (which they are…)? Or is it to gain a solid foundation in the extra-biblical religious literature that formed early Christianity and shaped medieval discussions and understandings of religion?

If it’s the former—have at it! If it’s the latter, a certain amount of judicious pruning of the list is in order. There’s a lot of great stuff here—but it’s a lot of stuff!

Ranking them in the order of importance for medievalists and those with an interest in Church History they would look like this:

  • OT Apocrypha
  • NT pseudepigrapha
  • OT psuedepigrapha
  • the Gnostic materials from Nag Hammadi
  • the Dead Sea Scrolls

I love the Dead Sea Scrolls, but, generally speaking, wrestling with them will provide a whole lot of work with very little pay-off for those interested in Christianity. The Dead Sea Scrolls are—for the most part—the literary leavings of a particular sect within Second Temple Judaism. They were a priestly group who were all about wresting control of the temple away from the current top dogs (i.e., the Sadducees) and doing liturgy right! (heh—sound familiar?) Students of the New Testament find these writings instructive because they give us an intimate look at a community that was parallel to the early Jesus movement and that gives us a better sense of the milieu from which Jesus and the Jesus movement came. That is, here we have an apocalyptic reform movement that understands itself and the historical events within which it is involved through the lens of scriptural prophecy. So—knowing these texts are key for understanding what the fringes of Second Temple Judaism were like, but as a completely different group with completely different aims, don’t teach us anything directly about early Christianity. [And here I’m making an artificial though useful distinction between the “Jesus movement” and “early Christianity/the early Church” as the first is a movement within Second Temple Judaism while the second is predominately a gentile movement outside of Second Temple Judaism.]

The Gnostic texts from Nag Hammadi are, again, a really cool set of texts. Very diverse texts, they represent a fairly broad snapshot of Gnostic documents circulating in 3rd century Egypt. Many of the major schools are represented (as far as we can tell) and, as a result, they can’t necessarily be seen as a coherent body of documents that were ever intended to be believed together.  Actually defining who and what the gnostics were is tricky and has occasioned no little argument since people started arguing about this stuff. Suffice it to say, the gnosticism of the Nag Hammadi codices is a movement outside of Christian orthodoxy as defined by canon, creed, and apostolic succession that draws on biblical writings, Neoplatonic philosophy, and other sources to construct a theological system where the divine soul must be freed from the evils of a material creation.

Gnosticism is important for Church history more for what it produced than what it was. Gnosticism was the most important force that acted both externally—most visible through the Manichees—and internally—most visibly in the Marcionites—on the Church that required it to express definitions and self-understandings about what made a community or certain expressions of belief distinctively and identifiably Christian.

Much of our early literature against heresies and heretics was spawned by various forms of gnostics and the need to explain how their beliefs were a distortion of the Christian understanding that 1) creation is of a good and loving God and that 2) Jesus is God who willingly entered into and clothed himself in creation by taking on our human nature.

So, gnostics and the Nag Hammadi stuff is important, but more for their effect on the Church Fathers than for their own content. That having been said, gnostic movements popped up in medieval Europe in groups like the Bogomils and the Cathars but, as far as I know, they were led in that direction more from seeds in the canonical writings and in creation-denigrating forms of Christian asceticism than from surviving gnostic documents.

As far as the Psuedepigrapha goes, again, this a wildly diverse set of writings enclosed within rather arbitrary covers. Again, as I said above, these can be grouped broadly in Jewish and Christian writings. Within the Charlesworth volumes—which are the single best collection of the OTP—the chief representatives of Jewish material would be 1 Enoch in vol 1 and the Fragments in vol 2. If you want to do serious work on these texts, though, Stone’s edition of 1 Enoch is far superior and Holladay’s texts on the Fragments of Hellenistic Jewish Authors is more complete and comprehensive (full disclosure—I indexed Holladay’s index for the Aristoboulos volume).

As far as Christian pseudepigrapha, the most important material is the narrative material. Things like the Martyrdom and Ascension of Isaiah and the Apocalypse of Adam directly informed medieval understandings of the prophets and patriarchs. The Gospel of Nicodemus and related documents are essential reading for anyone with pretensions to Christian medievalism. The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles circulated for centuries and sections of these were enshrined in The Golden Legend, popular preaching, and martyrologies. The Apocalypses of Paul and Thomas are represented in Old English; the Protoevangelium of James as read in and through the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew is essential for understanding medieval speculation and thought around the Blessed Virgin Mary, and most art around the BVM that references her childhood is entirely incomprehensible without it.

The least sexy of the above collections is truly the most important, though. The OT Apocrypha was not apocrypha to most patristic and medieval Christians—it was Bible. In particular Sirach/Ecclesiasticus was one of the preeminent wisdom books used by theologians and it figures heavily in medieval understandings of conduct and the sacraments (especially almsgiving and its relation to both penance and forgiveness). Wisdom of Solomon is another biggie for the same reason. You cannot be a credible (liturgical) medievalist if you cannot recognize the Additions to Daniel at a glance. Daily Office-praying Anglicans have a big leg up here as we’re used to seeing them in the context in which the medievals saw and heard them: these would be the Song of Azariah and the Song of the Three Young Men which are canticles 2/13 and 1/12 respectively.The narratives of Tobit, Susanna, Judith, and the Maccabees are clearly important as well.

Recommendations

The place where I would start is with a new work that will help you locate Christianity within the main strains of Jewish and Greco-Roman thought, Among the Gentiles: Greco-Roman Religion and Christianity by Luke Timothy Johnson. I’ve promised a review of this but it hasn’t been written yet… One of the great achievements of this book is showing where the communities of both the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi codices fall in terms of how they understood religion and religious practices in relation to emerging Christianity.

This will give you both a foundation and a very helpful conceptual framework rooted in a host of primary sources. Next, go to the texts.

Start with the Apocrypha. If you haven’t purchased a decent academic study Bible in a while, the New Interpreter’s Study Bible (NRSV with Apocrypha) is probably the best one out there and is the one I’d recommend. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to glance at your Douay-Rheims translation of the Vulgate as you go…

For secondary literature on the Apocrypha, I’d stick with just one book, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age. This hits the wisdom portions that are most crucial.

The bulk of your time in this investigation needs to be in the NTP. Hennecke is good and a classic; I use J. K. Elliott’s The Apocryphal New Testament. The Acts and the Gospels deserve the bulk of your time. Seriously. As you finish each act, go to the respective section in the Golden Legend and see how much derives from these apocryphal materials. Or, when you finish the Mary material, get your hands on the Heiland and see how much of it comes directly from the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew.

As far as secondary sources go, I don’t know much good stuff on these… Johnson talks about these acts a certain amount in Among the Gentiles; this would probably be the best place to read through the essays in Powell & Scragg’s Apocryphal Texts and Traditions in Anglo-Saxon England.

Then move to the OTP. 1 Enoch is just an all-around great read; Jubilees and the Sibylinne Oracles are also important for getting a sense of this literature. Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs is good for the moral dimension of the psuedepigrapha.

My standard introduction to this material would be John J. Collin’s Apocalyptic Imagination. I haven’t read VanderKam & Adler’s The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity but knowing VanderKam, it’ll be terrific and well worth your time.

As for the others—read what you’d like as time allows, but I’d really focus on the first three categories before moving there.

Addendum

I just have to say this… One of the reasons why this stuff is cool and attractive is because it’s outside the boundaries: it’s what Christians weren’t suppose to read. It gives you some great anti-authoritarian cred to read and know this stuff. But—honestly—most people who are interested in Early Christianity (and Christianity in general) would be far better served by actually reading all of the Old Testament and knowing the Canonical Scriptures before moving outside the canon. Similarly, while the Nag Hammadi stuff can be a great head trip, its not nearly as useful as knowing the homilies of Leo, Gregory and Bede.

Don’t read the outside stuff at the expense of knowing thoroughly the inside stuff: the Scriptures and the Doctors of the Church.

Commons of the BCP Era

Turning now to the ’79BCP, we note that the following commons are listed on pp. 195-199 and 246-250 under the heading “The Common of Saints” (although, as Ann noted below, the kalendar designates no post-biblical individuals as saints…):

  • Of a Martyr
    • the first mentions explicitly witness in the official of 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

Equally interesting and worthy of attention are the categories used in A Monastic Breviary used by the Order of the Holy Cross. The current version of this breviary is from 1976. Thus, the new book had not yet come out, but trial materials had been circulating for a while. While the BCP only gives a collect, A Monastic Breviary gives far more materials including invitiatories, psalm antiphons, hymns, responds, and antiphons for the Gospel Canticles. The designated Commons of Saints used here are:

  • The Blessed Virgin Mary
  • Apostles, Evangelists
    • The use and adaptation of Caelestis urbs Jerusalem as the hymn for Matins here and at Vespers for Martyrs is inspired!
  • Patristic Martyrs
    • using the 1st collect for martyrs noted above
  • Martyrs
  • Doctors (of the Church)
  • Missionaries
  • Monastics
  • Teachers
  • Pastors
  • Confessors

To me, these patterns seem intermediate between the Old System and the current system. The BCP seems to be moving towards “professionalizing” the liturgically remembered people, but stops just short of it. A Monastic Breviary may even go a step closer while still explicitly retaining the Old System.

More info to ponder…

Commons and Saints

Over the weekend, I’ve been working on the Commons of the Saints for the Breviary. I started early Saturday morning  then, when I went out for an easy 5-miler in the afternoon, I had an epiphany that will result in a complete overhaul in the way the breviary does sanctoral kalendars. More on this anon.

In working through the Commons of Saints, though, what I keep running up against is the sheer difference between the “old” system and the “new” system. That is, in the Old system things were pretty clear-cut; if you were a saint, you were either:

  • Apostle
  • Evangelist
  • Martyr
  • Confessor
  • Virgin (or Monastic—some early medieval sermons I have in mind group monks and hermits with virgins; other sources lump them into confessors.)

But what do we have now with Holy Women, Holy Men? We have things like:

  • Witness to the Faith
  • Prophetic Witness
  • Missionary
  • Priest and Theologian
  • Monk and Iconographer
  • Hymnwriter
  • Priest and “Friend of the Poor”

Now–I’m not saying any of the above are bad things, mind you. The two issues I’m rolling around are these:

  1. There’s no coherent system of classifications inherent in these labels. That may not matter much if all you’re doing is using a Collect to liturgically remember someone. But what if you’re trying to fit hymns, versicles & responses, and a gospel antiphon to it? Your best option is to fall back to the old categories at which point you realize just how many of the folks in HWHM fall simply into “Confessor”
  2. These two lists are fundamentally different in kind. They’re two entirely different ways of conceiving of people. The second is fairly clear—they’re being grouped by occupation; this is most evident when several people get lumped together based on their profession. Case in point is November 21nd: “William Byrd, 1623, John Merbecke, 1585, and Thomas Tallis, 1585, Musicians.” But the first category has nothing to do with occupations. It’s not quite as easy to wrap your head around but if I had to define the system of classification, it would be one based on how much people are willing to give up for the Gospel. That’s not quite it….but it’s something like that. Whatever it is, it’s very different from what the saints did for a living. On one hand I can see the New system connecting into how modern society measures personal worth and status; on the other it seems that we may have lost something profound that I can’t quite put my finger on…

Daily Office Text Note

While many of the modern lectionaries are fun to hate, it’s worth pointing out when they get something right.

Yesterday started Genesis in the Daily Office lectionary. We’ll continue in Genesis through much of Lent, and move into Exodus before jumping to Lamentations for Holy Week. This follows the old sequence of starting Genesis at Septuagesima and reading Genesis and Exodus through Lent.

For reflections on the monastic reading of Genesis and Exodus as read through the Responsaries, see here.

Of course, the detour through Proverbs during the later weeks past Epiphany is odd, but I suppose you have to fill it in from somewhere…

Readjust Expectations

Apparently I didn’t read the list of contributors at Pray Tell close enough; the latest post is a screed against Rite I by none other than Richard Giles, liturgical designer of the Philly Cathedral.

Update

Here’s the comment I left there that I think gets at the heart of the situation:

The case that the author is trying to make is that when the ‘79 BCP came out, there were certain people who refused to accept those reforms. Those people were then placated with an early service where, in the author’s opinion, they could pretend the reforms had not happened and did not exist. These 7:30/8 AM Eucharists thus became the “Institutionalized Dissent” where the Episcopal Church mistakenly allowed the recalcitrant to maintain their delusions.

That’s the argument I see being put forward. But there’s a serious flaw with it, and it’s this—the BCP is 30 years old. The Reforms have happened and the reforms have been deeply embedded in the culture of the Episcopal Church. The ‘79 BCP has succeeded so well that it has almost inadvertently stamped out the venerable Anglican practice of Choral Morning Prayer that could (and perhaps should) happen in concert with the Principal Eucharist.

I’m 35. I know *nothing* except the new environment. To put a finer point on it, I grew up Lutheran with the LBW (Green Book) that itself taught the same reforms as the ‘79 BCP and the Novus Ordo. When I moved to the Episcopal Church 10 years ago it was strictly into a ‘79 BCP environment. And yet I find that I and many others my age have a love for Rite I. For those of us who grew up in the most media manipulated culture ever, we’re looking for something with integrity and authenticity. If I can find that–and a healthy dose of poetry–in the language of Rite I, why is that a problem?

What I see in many of the Roman fans of the NLM and the usus antiquor is the same. The Reform is already in their bones! They’ve never known a time where the mass wasn’t in the vernacular! They are not the same opponents you faced in the post-conciliar years and if you treat them as such you will fail by dint of your own refusal to listen and understand what it is that they are hungering for.

It’s not the early eighties any more. People who take issues with certain ways that the ’79 BCP and Novus Ordo are implemented are not simply knee-jerk reactionaries who want the old ways back. This new generation of which I am a part are looking back at the older rites and materials from an entirely new perspective and that is what many of our critics fail to grasp.

Programming Kalendars

Back when I first got serious about coding the Breviary—I guess it’s been a couple of years now—I talked to Fr. Chris about it and we discovered that we’d been doing some parallel development.

One of the first issues to tackle is how to figure out what “today” is liturgically. Both Fr. Chris and I approached it the same way. That is, we take “today’s” date as given to us either by the server or the local computer then a) run it through an algorithm to determine where you are in the temporal cycle, then b) compare it to a table to determine if there’s something sanctoral going on.

What I kept running up against was the problem of transference. There are certain circumstances when a feast must be moved from its original date. For instance, Major Feasts that fall in Holy Week and the Octave of Easter are transferred by order of occurrence into the Second Week of Easter (cf. BCP, p. 17). Too, Major Feasts that fall on Sundays outside of green seasons must be transferred; major feasts in green seasons may be transferred.

At one point, for the sake of moving forward, I threw up my hands and said enough… It seemed easier to simply create a table for the year and to work everything out ahead of time. This saved me the trouble of coding transference. What it created was:

  • more moving parts. Currently I have a kalendar code that must correspond to the same code in the collect table and the lectionary table. Some of the recent Scripture reading issues (like the one that occurred today…) was the result of a perfectly normal and legal kalendar code that didn’t synch up with the lectionary code (though it did with the collect code…).
  • setting aside a block of time at the right time to work out a year’s worth of dates. And ends of years tend to be busy times. I’m clear through the end of 2010, but if it goes further…?
  • A restriction to the dates that I have a coded table for. This is less an issue with the St Bede’s Breviary than some historical projects I have in mind. For instance—what if I wanted to know what liturgy was appointed for February 18th in 892? There’s no way I’m going to code tables for thousand year spans!!

As a result, I’m rethinking my decision. This won’t happen immediately—it may not happen for quite a while, actually—but I think the issue can be broken down more logically than I was considering before. So what would this look like?:

  • Get the date
  • Run the temporal algorithm and determine where we are in the year
  • Now–different pie (sets of kalendrical rules not pastries) have different rules for privileged octaves and when transferences happen. So, this is where each kalendar system will have to have its own algorithm. Within those, however, things may not be so bad. For instance for the ’79 BCP all I should have to do is add in a three step process:
    • Is today the Monday after Easter 2? If no, keep going, if yes, then see if we need St Joseph, the Annunciation,  St Mark, or SS Phillip & James.
    • Is today the Tuesday after Easter 2? If no, keep going, if yes, see if we need the Annunciation.
    • Is today a Monday not in a Green season? If no, keep going, if yes, see if yesterday was a major feast
  • Now check today in the Sanctoral cycle to see if anything needs to be celebrated.

I think there may be some real benefits to this approach—I’ll keep thinking about it…

Is This Constructive Diversity?: Responding to Cody Unterseher

Introduction

There’s a new group blog up which looks quite promising. Whether of their own volition or in response to the New Liturgical Movement (or some combination of the two), a group of moderate mainline Catholic liturgists have begun Pray Tell. It’s not exclusively a Roman Catholic endeavor, though—a piece by an Episcopalian went up today.

Fr. Cody Unterseher presents a piece entitled Living with Diversity, Living in Charity. To my eye, it’s a piece designed to gently persuade Roman Catholic readers that liturgical diversity is possible within a given parish without the acrimony and rancor that such change can often inspire; different liturgical “factions” really can live together in peace. As an introduction to Roman readers, it is a calming voice that soothes those who fear social upheaval in liturgical spaces.

I enjoyed his piece and, following the various links, I suspect I’d quite enjoy worship at his parish (hark, a Dearmerite!). However, as an insider, I have some concerns with the picture that he presents.

I have four main concerns which I’ll introduce here, then lay out in detail below. My first point is that he creates an overly irenic picture of liturgical diversity. While he draws a quick sketch of the diversity within American Anglicanism, this diversity is less present in the description of his parish. My second point is that the presentation of the three worship options that he outlines are, in my experience, not considered equal options by the leadership of the parishes with which I’m familiar. My third point is that even this picture of diversity is, in fact, contained within a relatively narrow range for representing the Anglican heritage within the Episcopal Church. My fourth point returns more closely to the topic at hand and ponders how closely the Episcopal and Roman contexts map onto one another.

On Liturgical Diversity

The author begins with a quick nod to the standard threefold division of liturgical styles within the Anglican fold:

Episcopal parishes describe themselves variously as “high,” “low,” and “broad,” terms that reflect both preferences in liturgical style, and degrees of theological commitment to principles articulated during the reforms of the sixteenth century. And in spite of all the headline-grabbing difficulties in the Episcopal Church and in the Anglican Communion, there remains a lot of room for positive, healthy diversity in expression, especially on the level of parish life.

He also explains the presence of Rites I and II in our parishes for the benefit of his Roman readers:

When the 1979 Book of Common Prayer appeared, it included two series of services: “Rite I” in traditional (though faux) Tudor-Stuart English, and“Rite II” in contemporary English. Some parishes adopted one, some the other, and some made use of both. Likewise, some parishes adopted a versus populum style of liturgy, with the celebrant facing the congregation over the altar, while some retained ad orientem or eastward-facing worship.

This is a non-controversial assessment of what you’ll find within any given Episcopal parish. What I will raise, here, however, is a point which the author makes but fails to develop. He states here, accurately, that “Some parishes adopted one, some the other, and some made use of both.”  In the first quote above, he correctly notes that “Episcopal parishes describe themselves variously as ‘high,’ ‘low,’ and ‘broad,’…” and that’s the beginning of my concern.

Episcopalians tend to group themselves by parishes. There is tremendous diversity between parishes, but we typically do not find the span originally described—high, low, and broad— and the diversity represented by these factions within parishes as exhibited in their public liturgies. I’ll unpack this further in a moment.

As a demonstration of the irenicism prevalent at his parish, Fr. Unterseher describes the following procedure:

The parish I serve, in a suburb of New York City, makes use of a mix of these styles every Sunday: the early Eucharist is eastward-facing and uses Rite I texts. The principal celebration is also eastward-facing, but uses the modern language of Rite II. And at the evening Eucharist, celebrated in contemporary English, the the congregation gathers closely around all four sides of the freestanding altar. Each of these styles, each of these approaches has historical precedent, and can be justified by sound theology. Moreover, each approach has been adopted for significant and carefully considered pastoral reasons. Taken together, our three regularly scheduled Sunday liturgies represent a large cross-section of American Episcopal worship.

Both the description here and pictures of the parish (look—riddel posts!) make clear that this is a High Church parish. The dead give-away even without the pictures is an eastward-facing principle service. Many Broad and most Low Church Episcopalians would not stand for this—and east-facing Eucharists at Broad Church parishes are rarer than hen’s teeth.

From his description it looks like he has indeed incorporated services of two styles at his parish: High and Broad. The first two are High while the evening service seems to be Broad (gather ’round the altar being a now-classic piece Broad/Progressive ceremonial) and possibly unvested clergy.

Yes, there is a cross-section represented here, but it’s also unusual. In my experience most parishes will strongly identify with one of the three camps, and all of the liturgies will reflect that view. The choices at my current parish, for example are Broad, Broad, and Broad. (This is most evident on the very rare occasions when they think that they’re being “High”—which ends up being a Broad caricature of High.)

One blend which I have seen recently is Broad parishes introducing Low services with worship bands and such. The parish near our house does this as does the congregation where M is at the moment. Tellingly, these services tend to be 1) in two different spaces (it’d be really hard to do “authentic” Low in a sanctuary with riddel posts!) and 2) the congregations tend to be distinct with little cross-over. I’d suggest that Broad can go either way, but that you won’t—and probably shouldn’t—find a Low parish incorporating a High service and vice-versa. And this reality seems to undermine the irenicism Fr. Unterseher describes.

I do congratulate  Fr. Unterseher on achieving the diversity he has at his parish but this does not represent the norm in our church.

Liturgical Inequalities

Fr. Unterseher does acknowledge that his parish may be unusual (and I think it is) and further states that his parish understands all three of their services as equally valid expressions of worship:

Noticeably absent, however, is the divisive acrimony that often attends communities with multiple liturgical styles. Everybody knows that they are part of one parish, one church, one body. This is not the case in every Episcopal parish, and I won’t pretend that either the church as a whole or the parish doesn’t have fissures around some significant issues. But regarding the parish, I suspect that when it comes to worship, we’ve simply refused to buy into the posturing that so often seems to go along with issues of liturgical difference, and becomes so evident in conversations about liturgical reform. We refuse to suggest that one style is more “authentic” or more pleasing to God than another.

This statement warms my heart. If only this were so everywhere… The situation I’m familiar with where three services is the norm the inequalities are evident and sometimes even stated.

The early Rite I Mass is explicitly for the “old folks” and the assumption and hope is that this demographic and the service will die out together. I find the timing of the service to be the literally marginalizing issue here. It’s very difficult for me as a father to get myself and my girls ready and out the door for a 7:30 AM service. When I wake them up for it, I pay for it with cranky tired behavior later in the day. And yet—this is the service I’d rather attend at my current parish. If I do, then we have to go home and come back two hours later for Christian Ed. Why do few families show up at this service? In my context, at least, it’s because the logistics are torturous.

Interestingly enough when we went to the cathedral in Atlanta, there was a 9 AM Rite I service which led right into the Sunday School hour. The chapel where it was held was always full to bursting and I’d guess it was equally split been the expected “old folks” and families with small children. Despite the big Rite II choral Eucharist going on right across the hallway.

The evening service tends to be the one identified as perfect for children and families and (unlike Fr. Unterseher’s parish) has the “contemporary” music (of the ’80’s and 90’s). Despite this conception the demographic that seems to dig it the most is the Baby Boomers.

What I’m suggesting is that while some liturgical diversity may exist between early, middle, and evening services, not only do the groups tend to be distinct, but the early service with its Rite I language tends to be tolerated as a short-term inconvenience (although I note they’ve held on in most places for lo these thirty years giving the lie to the theory that only old folk like them).

The Breadth of Diversity: The Case of Morning Prayer

The third point I’d like to raise is breadth of diversity represented. It’s a little off-topic from the article itself, but I couldn’t help but notice it… All three of the services at the example parish are Eucharists. As a result, there’s a certain limitation of the true diversity of Anglican liturgy at that. In fact, it demonstrates the way that liturgical diversity has been flattened across the board since the release of the ’79 BCP.

I’m in hearty agreement with and very supportive of the norm laid down by the ’79 book: Holy Eucharist should be the principal act of worship in Episcopal parishes on Sundays and Holy Days. However, there’s no law that says that a parish can’t do both Morning Prayer and the Eucharist. From looking around the Episcopal Church you’d be excused from thinking that such a law is written in stone. One of the key treasures of the Anglican Patrimony has been effectively cut from the public worship experience of Episcopalians over the last thirty years.

A genuine and helpful move towards liturgical diversity would be the inclusion of a Morning Prayer service before the principal Eucharist on Sundays. But that’s not on the radar for 99% of the church.

The Roman and Episcopal Contexts

I don’t know that the Episcopal situation described here maps onto the situation that faces liturgical diversity in the Roman Church. The elephant in the middle of the room is the culture war.

Liturgy is all too often one wing in a broader battle, and outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible disposition. From my outsider’s view, the battle-lines seem to be much more firmly fixed within the Roman context than the Episcopal. That is, some of the most progressive churches I have attended have been High Church—St Luke in the Fields, NYC springs instantly to mind; some of the most conservative churches I have attended have been High Church—Mt. Calvary, Baltimore likewise appears. In the Episcopal Church, liturgical preference does not map directly onto the social and theological beliefs that tend to generate the true acrimony that liturgical wars appear to produce.

Of the admittedly small number of traditional liturgy Roman churches that I’ve visited, and from the discussions I frequent on the internet, traditional liturgy tends to travel with social and theological conservatism. I have not met a progressive Roman Catholic who is for traditional liturgy, the use of Latin, ad orientem celebration, and the usus antiquor.  These are seen as signs of the counter-revolutionaries who seek to depose Vatican II. I can, however, rattle of a list of progressive Episcopalians who favor all of these (with the recognition that our true usus antiquor is Rite I/the 1662 BCP rather than the Traditional Latin Mass…).

It is this cultural divide that makes me most wary of the picture that Fr. Unterseher paints. I need more convincing that the liturgical lines in the Roman Church are more fluid than they appear.

Summing Up

In summary, I think that Fr. Unterseher’s piece presents an idealized view of worship within the Episcopal Church. Charity in liturgical diversity is possible, but is unusual. First, finding actual diversity between parish services is rare. Second, parishes tend to self-select and identify with one style or another. As a result the diversity and charity tends not to have to happen. Third, I’m not clear that our situation maps onto the situation for which Fr. Unterseher is writing. Deeper cultural and social issues afflict liturgical change in the Roman Church in ways that they do not in ours.

There’s one more point that I must make though, and it involves my hopes for further posts at Pray Tell. Most clergy don’t have the liturgical knowledge or interest to make the diversity work—and that’s what Fr. Unterseher didn’t talk about (yet) and where I hope he goes in the future.

From just a quick look at his parish’s website, I notice that the worship page has a succinct explanation of what the Sarum Use is and an explanation of eastward celebration. There’s catechesis going on here! There’s teaching and explanation that 1) these differences in worship actually do exist and 2) there are real reasons why they are different—they are expressing something theologically.  That’s got to happen to make liturgical change, liturgical awareness and liturgical diversity work. I look forward to seeing more on this in the future!