Liturgical Spirituality: Anglican Reflections on the Church's Prayer
240
Liturgical Spirituality: Anglican Reflections on the Church's Prayer
240Paperback
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Overview
Liturgical Spirituality is a collection of Anglican reflections on the spirituality of the liturgy, inviting readers into the Church’s patterns of prayer, seasons of the year, and sacramental action. With contributions from all over the world, from the North Atlantic to Australia, the collection helps develop a comprehensive understanding of contemporary Anglican spirituality.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781596272545 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Church Publishing, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 11/20/2013 |
| Series: | Weil Series in Liturgics |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.60(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
LITURGICAL SPIRITUALITY
Anglican Reflections on the Church's Prayer
By STEPHEN BURNS
Church Publishing Incorporated
Copyright © 2013 ContributorsAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-59627-254-5
CHAPTER 1
Thanksgiving
Stephen Platten
In Newness of Life: Eucharistic Living
"Chairete," he called in his deep voice, the beautiful Greek greeting, "chairete, kyrioi" ... be happy.
The goats poured among the olives, uttering stammering cries to each other, the leader's bell clonking rhythmically. The chaffinches tinkled excitedly. A robin puffed out his chest like a tangerine among the myrtles and gave a trickle of song. The island was drenched with dew, radiant with early morning sun, full of stirring life. Be happy. How could one be anything else in such a season?
Gerald Durrell's My Family and Other Animals has been a popular favorite since its first publication in 1956. Transformed into television programs, it continues to weave its magic spell. That brief opening quotation suggests why the book touches peoples' hearts. For alongside the humor and Durrell's perceptive reflections about his family, it is ultimately a celebration of life. The humor itself is part of that celebration, but the focus is broader still. In that paragraph above, the animal and plant life of Corfu sing the song of happiness. There are countless other extracts in the book which pick up a similar resonant note. Durrell's youthful life on Corfu was formative, indeed seminal. Page by page his book celebrates the beauty of nature and the rich tapestry of human life. The characters, not only from within his own family but all who are caught up in his experience, are drawn with humor and generosity. It is not an overtly religious book, but much of the narrative, and certainly the description of the celebrations for St. Spyridon, the island's patron, in Corfu Town, capture the same sense of excitement and celebration.
That extract above begins with a Greek word chairete. Durrell translates it as: "Be happy." These same words are encountered in the New Testament. In Philippians 4:4, Paul exhorts his readers in almost precisely the same words: "Chairete, en kyrio," he writes. Here he means "rejoice in the Lord" and he refers us to Jesus, the incarnate Lord. Durrell's exhortation, from the lips of Yani, the Greek shepherd, are less portentous. He simply means "rejoice," or "be happy, sir!" Kyrios in modern Greek has come to have a less exalted feel; it has become a term of politeness, almost a part of social etiquette. But the resonances are still strong. Anyone knowing the New Testament could hardly fail to respond to these echoes. Durrell clearly intends a profound sense of happiness and thanksgiving to sound out from the lips of that Corfot shepherd. It says something about an attitude to life and indeed an attitude to the whole of creation.
Ironically, the echoes between modernity and antiquity, between contemporary Mediterranean culture and that of New Testament times, between Yani the shepherd and the life of Jesus do not end here. For, along with kalimera (good day) and yasas (hello), perhaps the most frequently used word in modern Greece, and so in Corfu, is the word eucharisto. It simply means "thanks," and although it is pronounced quite differently from our word eucharist, it is precisely the same word. So, it would not be pressing the meaning too far to say that Greek people (whether they consciously realize it or not) live "a eucharistic life." That same resonant word, which stands at the very heart of the Christian community, is on the lips of Greek men, women, and children, morning, noon, and night. It is one of the keynotes of their culture. Who would have thought that we could have found ourselves so profoundly caught up in elements of the Christian life starting from My Family and Other Animals?
Echoes and Resonances: "In Newness of Life"
Of course, we have only just got started. These are but echoes and resonances. It would be unfair to Durrell to turn his magical book, by sleight of hand, into a Christian classic. Nonetheless, it has set us out on our way. For these Greek words take us into the very center of Christian life down the ages and into the present day. What might this mean for Christian people? In the general confession, we are called to acknowledge our sins and to repent:
Ye who do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins, and are in love and charity with your neighbors, and intend to lead a new life, following the commandments of God, and walking from henceforth in his holy ways: Draw near with faith, and make your humble confession to Almighty God ...
Repentance means a radical turning again, and the confession very positively moves on to make us say: "And grant that we may hereafter serve and please thee in newness of life, to the honor and glory of thy name; through Jesus Christ our Lord." Newness of life means a pattern of living fashioned after the manner of our sovereign and savior. It is a life rooted in the revolutionary teaching and ministry of Jesus.
The challenge of Jesus' teaching to his own age lay in his radical acceptance of all whom he met and his similarly refreshing acceptance of the whole of life as "gift." Again and again Jesus turns upside down the values and attitudes of the world. This is clear in his response to people. Sinners and outcasts are welcomed unconditionally. Jesus eats with Zacchaeus the tax collector (Luke 19:1–10); he refuses to condemn an adulterous woman (John 8:1–11): "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone" (v. 7). In his healings he often begins with an unconditional forgiveness of sins. Not only does Jesus proclaim these values, which describe the divine reign through his responses and action; it is made clear, too, in his teaching and most obviously in his parables. Luke captures this most vividly in his gospel. The Good Samaritan acts compassionately almost by instinct (Luke 10:25–37); the tax collector beats his breast in penitence whereas the Pharisee seems to claim righteousness as his own (Luke 18:9–14). The father in the parable of the prodigal son embraces his returning wayward child; he remembers his son as "gift" and receives him back in the same manner (Luke 15:11–33). Matthew's account of the laborer in the vineyard indicates that justice and reward are just the beginning (Matthew 20:1–16). In the reign of God, all that we receive is gift and calls out of us our gratitude.
This essence of Jesus' teaching and ministry was captured well by Professor James Mackey when he was reflecting upon the nature of Christianity and Jesus' witness. The parables, Mackey argues, encapsulate this life of acceptance, giving, and ultimately sacrifice. In these unique stories Jesus describes what he also lives. Prayer and the eucharist, Mackey believes, are the ritual and service that stand at the heart of the way of Jesus, and the parables offer a pattern of living. So Mackey writes:
Is there a shorter way of conveying an understanding of this experience, at once so complex to the analyst and apparently so singular to the one who enjoys it. Probably not ... but if the experience itself could find words to summarize its impact in a short space, it would say something like this:
The treasure we can at any moment discover, the banquet to which we are all equally invited.
That delay must not mar this discovery, nor decline the invitation, for such ingratitude instantly un-graces us; it means too that life is more than bread, more than accumulated possessions; that to realise the true value of someone or something and to discover treasure are one and the same imperative act.
That the true value of all that exists is discovered in the unique way in which one values a gift; that we should therefore not crush by grasping, or tear by trying to pull away. The gift has its roots in the giver; like a flower with roots hidden that breaks ground to brighten the common day ...
In these few sentences Mackey captures something of what is meant in the New Testament by the reign of God. It is a way of living, uniquely revealed in the life, ministry, and teaching, and in the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is a way of living that is nothing less than participation with Christ and the Holy Spirit in the life of God. We set out something of this above from the New Testament in Jesus' life, witness, and ministry. It is what Paul describes elsewhere in the New Testament as the "new creation" (2 Corinthians 5:16–17). The reign of God with the set of responses seen in Jesus thus has its own patterning power for all humanity in all ages. This takes us to the very heart of the gospel as lived in Jesus. Indeed it has been claimed that "It is this patterning power of the kingdom that gives the Church its distinctive character."
This pattern, then, is encapsulated in a way of living which receives life and indeed all experience as gift. Unexpectedly, perhaps, we find ourselves back almost where we began. Yani, the shepherd, called out: "chairete, kyrioi ..."—be happy, sir! Chairete is itself derived from the word chara, which means joy, and this word is closely related to charis, which is the word we translate as grace. The word charis is rich in resonances; it means graciousness, attractiveness, gracious care, or simply gift. Although he may not have realized it then, the attitude to life captured in much of Durrell's book exemplifies the essence of the Christian way. In doing so, it helps us to understand still more vividly what this might mean for us in our own contemporary world. For the Christian this is what life means within the "patterning power of the kingdom." It is the pattern established in Christ, but it is recognizable in Christian lives in every age. Durrell's recapturing of his youthful innocence focuses it perfectly. At root, it is a pattern fashioned by both chara (joy) and by charis (grace or gift). All this triggers within the human spirit one instinct and one only, the spirit of thanksgiving, of eucharist. That spirit can itself transform lives. The rite that above all manifests this is, of course, the eucharist itself. So, before we go any further, let us pause for a moment to reflect upon the eucharist, the sacrament of life and of thanksgiving.
A Rich Tapestry
One of the most vivid pictures of the celebration of the eucharist springs from Taizé in Burgundy in southeastern France. The community there witnesses to the life of God's reign in its commitment to peace and justice. The eucharist issues from that same commitment and also nourishes it. The scene there is still more remarkable because of the ecumenical nature of the religious community at Taizé. From across the world, Orthodox and Reformed Christians, Roman Catholics and Anglicans, Lutherans and Mennonites from all nations and countless ethnic groups receive communion together. The predominance of young people also enriches the picture of the nature of Christian community. The action of the eucharist both makes God's Church present through our gathering around the altar and assures all of God's presence there in Jesus Christ. Fifty years ago, the Anglican Benedictine monk, Gregory Dix, helped us better understand the nature of the eucharist. Although understandings of the eucharist are now more sophisticated, it was Dix who showed the importance of the shape of the sacramental action. This has helped all to see that the eucharist is not a static rite, but rather that the unfolding drama of the sacrament itself establishes God's presence, which thus brings us into intimate communion with each other and with God. The proclamation of God's word, the different actions within the "liturgy of the eucharist" itself and the sending out—all form one integrated whole. At the center of this stands the great prayer of thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is thus not only a synonym for eucharist, it is also there in the solemn central prayer said or sung by the presider of the rite. This prayer is variously known as the prayer of consecration, the anaphora, or the canon of the eucharist. Each of these independently is inadequate as a title for the prayer. Prayer of consecration can be confusing since now, within Christian theology, the entire sacrament is seen as one integrated piece of "eucharistic time"; time is transfigured as we experience "communion in sacris," as it is technically known. Thus to look for a specific moment of consecration is misleading. Canon, too, can be misleading; it effectively means measuring rod or measuring line. It is an identifier of authenticity. Once again it can point too sharply to a specific moment when the bread and wine are believed to be consecrated. Anaphora, a Greek term, came from the root verb meaning "to offer." Frequently it was also used to refer to the whole liturgy and so is richer in its resonances, but even here the strict emphasis on offering focuses on just one element within a far richer whole. To speak of the great prayer of thanksgiving, however, weaves all of these strands into its rich tapestry. It reminds us too of the meaning of the entire liturgy, and of the way in which the eucharist encapsulates a life patterned by the reign of God. Eucharistic living transforms lives such that all our experience may then be received as gift, as graced by God in Jesus Christ.
Throughout its entire length, the great thanksgiving prayer makes all this possible in any number of different ways. Often, the prayer begins with a reminder that we are created primarily to offer God thanksgiving and praise. Then the mighty acts of God in Jesus are proclaimed, in thanksgiving for our redemption: Christ's offering on the cross, his passion, resurrection, and ascension are remembered and acclaimed. There will often also be specific thanksgiving for the saints and a looking forward to the fulfillment of the coming kingdom and reign of God. We pray too in that great prayer that God's Holy Spirit will sanctify both us and the gifts of bread and wine; here, too, is more cause for thanksgiving. But seminal to the prayer is the act of remembering. Remembering is indeed a key part of human experience. The philosopher Plato believed that all learning was remembering. He pictured our lives as being like a journey from a cave out into the world of reality. In the cave there are only images and shadows, copies or silhouettes of reality. As we journey through the cave toward reality, Plato believed that we learn by remembering the reality out of which we were born. Christian theology has always been far more rooted in history and in the mighty acts of God than this. We do remember, but we remember the saving acts of God in Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. As we remember them, so God in Christ is present to us every time we celebrate the eucharist. In this, we experience the redemption given by God, and we give thanks once again for that redemption and for our communion with and in Christ. This is why every time we celebrate the sacrament, at the heart of the eucharist, we repeat the words of Jesus, as recorded by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Paul (John's account of the night before Jesus' death focuses on the footwashing, not the meal): we do this in remembrance of Jesus. Often the host and the chalice will be lifted up to remind us of Christ's sacrifice on the cross and to signify his nearer presence to us in the eucharist. The great prayer of thanksgiving is then a climax within the sacrament of the eucharist and it focuses the entire life of thanksgiving to which we are all called.
Life as Gift
We have, then, come full circle—back to living eucharistic lives. We have done so, however, by seeing how such lives must be rooted in the sacrament of the eucharist itself. It is the place, par excellence, where we are reminded of the patterning power of God's reign. It is the place where we see, through Christ's own sacrifice, how better to embrace life as gift and to offer ourselves in grace-filled lives. Christ's suffering and death are the culmination of a life of acceptance, of seeing life as gift. The effects of this transformation are seen not purely through the life of the individual. The eucharist is itself unavoidably a corporate rite. Indeed, another reason why the experience at Taizé is so moving and vivid is the sheer fact of numbers. Often five thousand or more people, from a great variety of traditions, come together to receive communion; the sacrament of thanksgiving sends them out to live eucharistic lives, powered by the mystery of Christ's redemptive sacrifice. This means the possibility of transformed communities alongside transformed individuals. This has its own theological impact. What might that impact be?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from LITURGICAL SPIRITUALITY by STEPHEN BURNS. Copyright © 2013 Contributors. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated.
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Table of Contents
Introduction to the Series vii
Introduction ix
Contributors xiii
Part 1 Moods of Prayer 1
Chapter 1 Thanksgiving Stephen Flatten 6
Chapter 2 Praise Mark Earey 24
Chapter 3 Confession Harriet Harris 38
Chapter 4 Intercession John Pritchard 56
Part 2 Sacramental Actions 71
Chapter 5 Taking Lizette Larson-Miller 79
Chapter 6 Blessing David Stancliffe 96
Chapter 7 Breaking Alan Bartlett 114
Chapter 8 Giving John B. Thompson 134
Part 3 Seasons of Celebration 151
Chapter 9 The Christmas Cycle David Runcorn 158
Chapter 10 The Easter Cycle Ruth A. Meyers 173
Chapter 11 Ordinary Time Ellen Clark-King 190
Chapter 12 Celebrating the Saints Mark Pryce 204
Acknowledgments 221
What People are Saying About This
"Much of the vast literature on Christian spirituality has taken as its focus the individual Christian’s private modes of prayer. This collection study of Christian spirituality places the primary focus of that spirituality in the more appropriate context of Christian liturgical prayer, that is, in the corporate forms of the spirituality that is embodied when Christians gather for prayer together using the structured forms of the liturgy. The renewed emphasis on ecclesiology among Christian writers suggests that this corporate spirituality offers the natural starting point for any discussion of the Christian life of prayer. This book is a treasury of fresh insight into the fundamental dimensions of liturgical prayer. It merits a wide audience among laity and clergy who seek to deepen their insight into the common ground of a corporate liturgical spirituality."
—Louis Weil, Hodges-Haynes Professor Emeritus of Liturgics, The Church Divinity School of the Pacific, Berkeley, California
"Only when we gather as God's holy assembly do we truly discover who we are. In these essays, Stephen Burns has brought together a compelling company of voices recalling us to the primacy of spiritual formation through the liturgy and the sacramental life. When we gather, give thanks and offer ourselves anew at the table of God's feast, we come to see that when words fail us, actions speak. This book is a rich and varied resource spurring us on to explore more deeply the power of liturgical worship to engage, inspire and transform."
—The Very Revd Richard Giles, formerly Dean of Philadelphia Cathedral, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
"Would that laity and clergy alike would take this book to heart! Rich in anecdote and acute memories of lived experience brought to bear on understanding how Christians should engage with the week-by-week, year-by year worship of God in differing contexts across the globe, each of the essays is to be savoured, enjoyed, and put into practice with transformed communities in view!"
—Ann Loades, Professor Emerita of Divinity, Department of Theology and Religion, University of Durham, and Honorary Professor of Divinity, University of St Andrews, UK