On Beauty

The Second Sunday in Advent

BLESSED Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Advent

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, now and ever. Amen.

The Feast of Nicolas, Bishop of Myra, c. 343

O ALMIGHTY God, who willest to be glorified in thy Saints, and didst raise up thy servant Nicholas to shine as a light in the world: Shine, we pray thee, in our hearts, that we also in our generation may show forth thy praises, who hast called us out of darkness into thy marvellous light; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

As we continue to journey through the season of advent, it is important to reflect on the fact that we hold to a three-fold anticipation of his coming. We reflect on the anticipation of Christ’s nativity in the past, we continue to anticipate and receive him through his coming in the mystery of the Holy Eucharist, and just as we pray, “We believe that thou shalt come to be our judge,” in the Te Deum Laudamus, in Advent we anticipate Christ’s coming again on the last day.

There is much to say about Christ’s coming again, too much really, but that is perhaps not the point we are to consider in Advent, so much as to reflect on how we are to anticipate his coming. We sing those memorable words, “O come, O come, Emmanuel,” but what do we mean? What are our hopes by calling on Christ to come? How are we preparing ourselves for it?

Often on a personal level we prepare ourselves through beauty. We clean ourselves, men often shave and women often put on cosmetics, and then we dress ourselves in clothing we deem appropriate for the dignity of our coming to meet Christ in his Sacrament. What is the symbolism behind this? Why do we do it?

The best possible answer is to perhaps suggest that our outward emphasis on beauty is a representation and extension

I recently attended a church service for dementia patients at a nursing home. It was interesting to me in that the emphasis was on song with brief periods of teaching, and did not follow the format of any particular service book or authorized liturgy for any tradition. The residents in attendance varied from those who seemed relatively functioning and who could speak to those who spoke only in groans and shouts. Some might hum along or only mutter at some of the songs, while others could actually read the songbooks and sing along.

One gentleman in particular, who was unable to read and sing along for the most part, who had otherwise been humming or muttering throughout the service, caught my attention when the chaplain announced we would next sing Amazing Grace. He caught my attention because as we began singing, so did he. His voice was distinctive, loud and not particularly in tune, but all the same I was struck by the true beauty of his singing.

It was not professional singing. It wasn’t even all that good for an amateur. He was dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with a large stain on his shirt. Many of the other residents were similarly dressed. Yet at that moment, I felt he was better prepared for the coming of the Lord than anyone else in the room.

Sometimes you can simply hear the joy and anticipating coming through someone in song. When he was finally able to join in, there was no way to misconstrue why he was singing. It was a deep love of God.

Sometimes, when we dress ourselves up and go to Church, or perhaps choose to attend a choral evensong, we ought to consider asking ourselves why. Is the beauty there in the worship of God or is it internally in the act of worship only? When we go and listen to a choir, is there the same offering unto God of ourselves, our souls and our bodies that is represented in how we dress, what we say and what we pray? JB Philips once remarked that:

it is natural and right, of course, that the worship we offer to God in public should be of the highest possible quality. But that must not lead us to conceive of a musically “Third-Programme” god who prefers the exquisite rendering of a cynical professional choir to the ragged bawling of sincere but untutored hearts.

The man I heard singing is perhaps a perfect example of the “ragged bawling,” of a sincere heart, and in that moment I was struck by how much his singing likely pleased God.

This is not to say that God does not find the voices of a professional choir pleasing, but rather a reminder that even if a choir sings off-key or there is no choir, God is always looking at what is in the heart. Are voices raised to create a sound pleasing to His ear, or to ours?

Aesthetic beauty, be it in the architectural design of a parish church, its appointments, the music and even in some cases the poetic words and imagery of the liturgy itself, is designed intentionally that way because we are inviting God into our presence. In the same way that we might groom ourselves and dress in a way that we feel honours God, our surroundings are designed to honour God. Stained glass windows, cruciform buildings, and Gothic spires that reach to the heavens. They are there for two reasons, to keep us focused on God and to honour God.

The primary purpose of beauty in Church is not to be aesthetically pleasing to people. It has a dual purpose of reminding us of God—the stained glass window depicting a Christian saint or historical event, the cruciform building reminding us of Christ’s death on the cross, the spires pointing to heaven as we are to turn our hearts and minds to God—and also of being pleasing to God. When we look to the beauty in something like song, the beauty of a professional choir is lost when in effect what we are doing is placing the emphasis on our hearing the professionals sing, rather than ourselves lifting our voices in praise of God. We have outsourced, in effect, our praise.

There is nothing inherently wrong with beauty in the Church. Indeed, there is much to be lauded. A well appointed nave and sanctuary can help us to draw ourselves out of our secular world and lives and remember we are in God’s presence. A professional choir can help to lead our singing, perhaps helping it to be as pleasing as possible to God. In all things, however, we should remember that intentions matter, and we should concern ourselves first and foremost with what we are giving to God, rather than what we are receiving temporally from the Church building and others. Keep in mind the man who sang with passion, without concern for key or tempo, but only to express his joy found in God.

On the Language of the Prayer Book

The Third Sunday in Advent

O LORD Jesu Christ, who at thy first coming didst send thy messenger to prepare thy way before thee: Grant that the ministers and stewards of thy mysteries may likewise so prepare and make ready thy way, by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, that at thy second coming to judge the world we may be found an acceptable people in thy sight; who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Advent

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, now and ever. Amen.

The language of the Prayer Book is archaic, there is no getting around it. While it is variously described as being more contemplative, solemn or formal than the alternative and modern language services available in the Book of Alternative Services, the reality is merely that the diction is archaic. The Book of Common Prayer of 1662 uses language of the day, but the language is now 350 – 450 years old, and the Canadian Prayer Book of 1962 models its language on that of the 1662 Prayer Book. So while it clearly is archaic, is it solemn, stiff and formal as it is otherwise described, or is it just our unfamiliarity with the way the language is employed that makes it so?

Here is a simple comparison between the language. The collect for Advent above is said each week during advent from the Book of Common Prayer. The collect for Advent from the Book of Alternative Services follows:

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness and put on the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to us in great humility, that on the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

In this example, the prayers have largely been unchanged; the Book of Alternative Services merely updated the language to modern use, for the most part. Some of the more obvious changes beyond mere word order are the change of, “thy Son Jesus Christ,” to, “your Son Jesus Christ, and, “him who liveth and reigneth,” to, “him who lives and reigns.” In the latter example it is simply a matter of it being the proper suffix for a third person singular present tense verb. In modern English, the suffix of –eth has been replaced with –s. In the former example, however, the change is a bit more complex. Thy is similarly an archaic form of your, which is used in the Book of Alternative Services translation, however it ignores one critical point. Thy was also the singular informal form of you. Many languages maintain such a distinction. In French, tu is used as the informal second person singular, and the second person plural vous is used as the second person singular in formal circumstances. This same usage is found in Spanish with tú and usted. In modern English, the form of you is used in both cases, and it is therefore impossible to tell if it is formal or informal, singular or plural, without some form of context. In the archaic form of English used in the Prayer Book, however, this informal use of thy is preserved. Far from being formal, the use of this archaic language, when properly understood, reminds us of the deeply personal relationship we engage in with God through the liturgy. Its use, according to Sue Careless, suggests intimacy, affection and love and reflects a type of speech which would be used with a close friend or beloved, in contrast with you and your which would have been used with someone for with whom the relationship was more formal or distant.

In understanding that context of linguistic use, reading the Prayer Book constantly highlights the intimacy of the personal relationship we hold with God through Jesus Christ. In the modern language of the Book of Alternative Services, there is nothing to suggest that we do not have that personal relationship, but neither are there sufficient context clues to us, for instance in the collect example used, to suggest that intimacy and informality that is expressly stated in the Prayer Book’s language.

Beyond the reminder of informality, by virtue of the archaic language, we set the liturgy apart from our daily lives. Much like how we might dress with intention of worship, our use of language reflects a clear desire to set this time apart for the sacred worship of God. The language of the Prayer Book is poetic and quite beautiful. As has been referenced previously, the Prayer Book and King James Bible are viewed as seminal English literary work and revered as such even by non-Christians merely for their beautiful use of the English language. As anyone knows, when you translate poetry, it does not always translate well; some of the beauty of the Prayer Book is lost in the modernised language of the Book of Alternative Services.

Aside from setting ourselves apart, it is also a reminder of an important truth. As we sing in the hymn Diademata, God is, “ineffably sublime.” He is so great we cannot describe him in words. If we cannot properly describe him in words, how can we even attempt it using simple or common words? The fact that the use of these words is today largely limited to their religious context helps remind us that our normal vocabulary is insufficient. As David Mills argues, we use the language of the Prayer Book to, as best as we are able, express truths beyond words.

The language of the Prayer Book, as this post first recognized, is archaic. It needs to be understood. Ultimately, however, that is no different than any other aspect of the liturgy. The meaning behind the high mass cannot always be understood simply by participating in it, and some effort needs to be made to understand the history and symbolism behind different acts and even words. With the language of the Prayer Book it is little different: we must make an effort to understand the words we say, because behind them stands the doctrinal theological fullness of the Anglican tradition.

The language of the Prayer Book is a precious deposit of the Anglican tradition. In learning the language of the Prayer Book, we become one step closer to unlocking the full potential of the Prayer Book as a tool of faith in the Anglican tradition.