On a recent visit back to my “home town” we visited the parish church we used to attend many years ago. Back then we went to Evensong every Sunday evening, and the church was always packed to over-flowing. It is true that we had an extremely popular Vicar, a wonderful orator whose sermons everyone appeared to enjoy, and he was certainly a strong draw-card.

I particularly loved the music, the full choir and swelling organ recitals, and the wonderful sung psalms in the old Gothic stone church with its oak beams and pews, and the beautiful stained glass windows. It was magic!

We decided to go again, for old time’s sake, since this Service had meant so much to us. They still have it every Sunday evening at 7.00 pm, but this time we were left feeling terribly sad. From a congregation in the past of well over 300, this time there were only 8 parishioners plus the 3 in our little group. The music and beauty of the church remained, but where did everyone go? Those 8 folk were all elderly, and were all who remained. This is such a beautiful Service, the 1662 revision of Archbishop Cranmer’s BCP (Book of Common Prayer) Evensong, that I feel very sad it now happens so infrequently and is so under-attended. Why, when it used to be so popular?

Running concurrently with Evensong was another Service, also beginning at 7.00 pm, and called “the Antioch Service”. I understand it was designed more for the younger folk who preferred contemporary music and a different type of worship altogether. It was lead by another member of the clergy and was held in the adjacent church hall. I did not get to see how many people attended that Service but did note that there were not that many cars parked around the church. It used to be hard to find a park within several blocks back in those “olden days” of 300+ in the congregation!

Not just the demise of Evensong saddens me, but that worship has moved away from singing the Psalms as was done so prominently in that form of Service. Psalms are such wonderful God-inspired prayers and are a real treasure that comes at great cost to ignore. If you wish to learn how to pray, commit to memory as many verses of the Psalms as you can and then draw on them in your prayer life to enrich it immeasurably. We are losing a lot that is of real value by abandoning the BCP and not raising younger folk to appreciate these liturgies, thus denying them the pleasure that can derive from that kind of worship.

Am I really becoming an old fogey? Oh horrors!

I have been offered a number of reasons for this demise and the abandoning of our choral tradition. One was the greater competition on a Sunday for church attendances, including more entertainment options and commitments to other activities. That meant church needed to be made “more relevant” and something new, far more creative and dynamic, had to be found. The choral tradition and the words of the BCP were considered to belong to a culturally elitist group (the elderly?) and no longer grounded and authentic as a form of worship for modern generations. The formal liturgies of the BCP were considered traditions that no longer sustained, evidenced obviously by the lack of attendees. Someone suggested that people didn’t like going out in cold winter evenings… er, but may do so if Bingo and Karaoke are on offer. To worship God corporately is a privilege (as well as a duty) and such a weak excuse is quite shameful. “Sorry God, I’d rather keep warm by my fire… even though Jesus suffered horrific torture and death on the cross for me.” So much for the measure of our faith these days. What wimps we’ve become if that is the case. I hope not!

But if the church offers Evensong and only a tiny handful of people turn up, is it sensible to continue offering that kind of Service? A very good question, and it is quite reasonable to say that something needs to change. But the next question… what is it that has to change? Is it the Worship Service… or is it the people, the church, the body of Christ? This is worth thinking about.

The BCP liturgies have been increasingly dropped by the church in the most recent generation as the church strives to appeal to youth (mainly) through their own secular culture. The youth are not being taught to love what already exists, but to develop their own separate way of doing things - and that is a modern trend that works against the continuation of previous forms of worship. The church is seeking after youth, rather than the youth believe they have any rightful business with the church that existed long before they were born. The church will pander to secular culture or argue that, not doing so, it will die. And people point to Evensong and the few elderly attenders to “prove” such a statement, calling it sentimental nostalgia rather than authentic worship. BCP Evensong lasted from the time of Archbishop Cranmer (the 16th century) until a generation ago, and now, within this one generation, it has gone down the gurgler. So now we flip-flop among a variety of experimental formats, searching for this something new, creative and dynamic. The church has to run after people to make them want to attend. Why, in this generation, have people stopped learning to love the worship of the church which many generations before have done?

I was not born liking the choral tradition, nor the BCP Evensong, but at the time I started going to church that was what was on offer. That was how we worshipped. Nobody thought that I, or any other young person, should object and insist on it being done some other way (in order to be enticed to attend). I simply learnt to like it, which after a while I did. But now that we apparently must change what had been established in order to entice people to come and worship, I am wondering where is the sense of privilege (let alone duty!) to do so. People have to be lured into coming. They have to “like” the worship, and have it done their own way - not learn an already accepted way of doing things. Scripture informs the BCP which is very rich in its presentation, and the music is not subversive of the Word - those sung psalms are embedded in my brain as the music soars in my soul. And now, in the space of one generation, this worship history is being abandoned and wiped out by a culturally modern replacement (if an evening service is being offered at all) devised by just anyone. It may well be their own best, which I don’t deny also has merit, but it comes at the cost of losing several centuries of glorious praise and exaltation far better than most of us can offer by ourselves.

I am also left wondering what else is going to be changed (in generations to come) because it is not liked, and I see it already happening where people don’t like to hear about sin, and the eternal consequences of sin, and about obedience and God’s holiness and their own lack of it, etc. Some will even veer towards Biblical revisionism to avoid it. And while I think of it, who remembers the 39 Articles (and the others that Cranmer first came up with) these days? Lose some of these things and we are losing part of the Anglican tradition that will indeed come at a cost.

I was also told that the language of the BCP was an obstacle for many, that it is Elizabethan English which people don’t use nor understand these days. After all, if I wanted to be truly authentic, I should be recommending that we worship in Hebrew or Greek (the languages of the Old and New Testaments) or even in Latin. No, I agree with Martin Luther… the written word of God needs to be heard in the vernacular, and our worship must be understood by the worshippers. Hebrew and Greek are entirely different languages, but Elizabethan English is no further removed from today’s English than is that which is used to txt like a teen. Didn’t we learn to read Shakespeare at school? The “Elizabethan English” of the BCP is very mildly such compared with Shakespeare. I can understand both ends of that language continuum well enough to appreciate the right doctrine that Cranmer was keen for his clergy to teach (and congregation to understand) and communicate effectively with my young son on the end of his cell phone. Is that so unusual? Perhaps it is.

For myself, the BCP is most certainly not “merely a set of nice sounding words which are sort of comforting in an unthinking kind of way” (as was also suggested to me) although I do understand that there is a danger of it becoming so for those who “rote learn” without being mindful of what they are saying, or don’t wish to understand the right doctrine which is embodied by the words spoken or sung. People are more impatient these days, wanting things instantly without applying effort to learn, and so we must bend to them rather than have them bend themselves. The church service itself is seen as the missional outreach, rather than the home of worship from which the church members then go outside the walls to spread the gospel and draw new believers into the pews. Discipleship is being done as part of worship, rather than as something else again and done by all the church outside those times of worship. However, I thought worship was directed towards God, the One whom we worship, ourselves offering ourselves to Him with praise, thanksgiving and prayers of supplication, and songs of joy, etc. But that, I know, is a narrow view of worship when it is expected that a church service itself must encompass other functions, such as mission.

Virtue Online (the Voice for Global Orthodox Anglicanism) very recently (25 May, 2010) posted an article by Robin Jordan concerning a booklet published by the Latimer Foundation on the subject of “Praying with Understanding: Explanations of Words and Passages in the Book of Common Prayer”… I quote a small excerpt here, but the whole article may be read here, or the booklet itself downloaded from here.

One of the greatest failures of the church in recent years has been the failure to teach. So much so, that lay people today are often crying out for teaching, but the clergy (whether through uncertainty, mistaken priorities or sheer overwork) are still not supplying the need.

The services which are used every Sunday are an obvious subject for teaching, yet it has often been taken for granted that people know why they use them and fully understand what they mean. Much, of course, can be learned about them simply by thoughtful use of them, but certain things cannot.

Then, when the church enters an era of revolution, as at present, it is possible for the revolutionaries to decry the traditional services as ‘unintelligible’, simply because they contain some things hard to understand, which nobody troubles to make clear.

. . . .

A hundred years after his work [Archbishop Cranmer's BCP] had been done, the 1662 revisers tell us in their ‘Preface’ that they had found certain words and phrases which had fallen out of use or changed their meaning in the meantime, and that they had therefore substituted others.

Today, three hundred years later again, it is not surprising if the same situation has arisen once more; and, in any revision carried out on the modest principles of the 1662 revisers, a sprinkling of words and phrases might well need to be changed for the same reasons. But that is all.

The number of such words and phrases is not great, and it would be no more necessary today, in the cause of intelligibility, to change the whole substance and style of the Prayer Book, than it was in the seventeenth century. The text, as the 1662 revisers left it, was essentially Cranmer’s text, and a modern revision carried out on the same principles would again leave us with a text that was quite recognisably Cranmer’s.

The ‘invisible mending’ would hardly show. It would not be in everyday speech, and would include some harmless antiquarianisms like ‘thou’, ‘thee’ and ‘thy’; but then the Prayer Book never was in everyday speech - rather, it was in a finer form of speech, which sometimes differed from everyday speech chiefly in being simpler and clearer.

An unusual way of speaking is quite a different thing from an unintelligible way of speaking, though today they are so regularly supposed the same. To change words and phrases which have fallen out of use or altered their meaning would remove all trace of unintelligibility, while leaving a nobly unique text which was still unmistakably Cranmer’s own.

In the meantime, such words and phrases can at least be explained. The clergy can, of course, explain them by word of mouth, and one of the aims of the present booklet is to show clergy how easily this teaching gap can be bridged. However, in parishes where this is not as yet being done, it may help to have the explanation available for laity also in brief written form.

No doubt the clergy are overworked (the ones I know certainly are!) but perhaps the rest of the church - we, the congregation - have a responsibility in terms of mission: sharing, teaching and discipling? But I guess it is human nature to reinvent the wheel, presuming that it is not quite round enough for a new generation, and anything more modern must always be better.

Oops, I’m sounding like an old fogey well before my time!

Psalm 23 is an old favourite and so many of us can recite the words, almost as many as can remember those to the Lord’s Prayer. But I wonder if you had noticed the use of the pronouns in this wellknown psalm?

This psalm of King David is a literary unity with two governing metaphors expressing God’s care and goodness: the shepherd, and the banquet table.

In the first metaphor, the shepherd stays with his flock throughout all occasion, that of safety and plenty, and that of danger and need, of trouble and adversity. His sheep are totally dependent on the shepherd for their food, water, and protection from wild animals - danger and threat of harm.

David begins by expressing this spiritual fact objectively, as though telling us about God. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousnes…” David uses the third person pronoun, He, in reference to God.

But then, when he comes to the fourth verse, beginning “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”, David changes from the third person pronoun to one of more immediate and closer presence. He continues “…you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Next he moves to the second metaphor, still using this pronoun of immediate presence. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

As I was reading this the other day, it suddenly struck me how interesting this change was, and especially concerning the point at which it occurred.

As David regarded the change in his situation to become one of greater danger, namely “the valley of the shadow of death”, it is as though he senses that the Lord has come closer. He is no longer away from him in order to be spoken of in the third person, but has moved close to be with David who speaks of Him in a first person relationship - I and You, my and Your. The Lord is right there, ready to protect, ready to nurture, ready to meet our every need. He is not far away; He is right with us.

Interesting, I thought. And a comforting spiritual reality.

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Crossing Cook Strait on the Aratere is not my most preferred way to spend an afternoon. However, the Marlborough Sounds do offer picturesque scenery for tourists, and the Strait itself can bring added excitement those days when strong cross currents and high winds combine to make it one of the roughest stretches of water in the world.

Just before we embarked I grabbed a book from the local secondhand shop, and at only $2 per hour, it made the journey much sweeter for me. Another traveller peered to see the title of what I was reading… Shame, by Jasvinder Sanghera. It was an interesting, if harrowing, autobiography and given that sailing conditions were no greater than “moderate”, the 290 pages were able to fill those three hours perfectly. Thank goodness for books.

In her book Jas recounted her heart-rending true story of oppression, escape from forced arranged marriage, resultant family rejection, and a harrowing struggle against a punitive code of honour. Born in Derby (England) of Asian immigrant parents, she witnessed the torment and abuse endured by her older sisters in such marriages, and ran away from home as a young teenager when it became her turn to follow suit.

But the story became one of triumph over adversity when Jas, after two broken marriages, two small children, pregnant with another, fulfilled her dream to earn a degree at university and co-founded a community-based project to support others like herself, women affected by domestic violence and honour-based crimes. (Jas has since written a subsequent book, Daughters of Shame, published January 2009, which continues her advocacy campaign against forced marriages and abuse of Indian and Pakistani women).

One of the characteristics of shame, as a human emotion, is that it is experienced when the cloak of secrecy is removed and exposure results. To avoid shame we seek to hide those things of which we are ashamed. But the interesting thing Jas experienced was the relief from unburdening herself to a non-judgmental empathic listener, one who was able to listen with true compassion. Removing the cloak of secrecy cut straight through the crushing humiliation of shame and brought her out of its darkness into an emancipation from its destruction. She learnt that, not only do women need a refuge, but to talk and share their horrifying experiences. Then the shame will be undone, revealed as crimes perpetuated by others rather than by themselves. There was a pressing need for the kind of acceptance that encouraged this outpouring, supporting the women culturally while yet undoing the damage of their enculturation. It seemed almost a contradiction, supplying a cultural milieu to counteract a cultural crime. But there are most definitely times when such a non-judgmental environment is absolutely essential.

On arrival home from my Cook Strait reading adventure, I discovered a copy of our most recent community newsletter stuffed in the mailbox. Flicking through the brief news items I found an advertisement for a new kind of service at the local Uniting Church. There was an invitation to come and “worship with a difference” by joining with others for a relaxed time of talking about all sorts of topics, listening to the veiwpoints of others, and finding a variety of things to think about. That is worship?

This is certainly an age of relativism. The Asian women who need to recover from culturally inflicted suffering require a culturally appropriate environment (empathic, accepting, supportive) in which they are enabled to do so, but I personally don’t see Christian church worship as an activity which lends itself quite to a communal sharing of viewpoints. If that is worship, I’m left wondering just who and what was to be worshipped.