By Ben Crosby In June, the Anglican Church in North America authorized the 2019 Book of Common Prayer at their Provincial Assembly. What makes this text particularly significant is that it is the first consciously post-liturgical movement Book of Common Prayer authorized by an Anglican ecclesial body. That is, rather than seeing the ACNA prayer book as continuing the trajectory of the liturgical reforms that transformed Christian worship worldwide in the middle of the twentieth century, its framers situate it as a sort of “reform of the reform” of these Anglican liturgies, and above all of the Episcopal Church’s 1979 Book of Common Prayer. Archbishop Robert Duncan, chair of the ACNA Liturgy Task Force that produced the 2019 BCP, puts it like this: the ACNA Book of Common Prayer “takes what was good from the modern liturgical renewal movement and also recovers what had been lost from the tradition.” Much has already been written on this new BCP, including Drew Nathaniel Keane’s exhaustive comparison of the final draft of the 2019 ACNA BCP with the 1979 and earlier Anglican liturgies on Covenant. More recently, there has been an online exchange regarding the relationship of the 2019 BCP to the 1662 Church of England Book of Common Prayer, and whether the 2019 is in fact faithful to the doctrine and worship of the 1662 (see here, here, and here). Advertisement My aim in this piece is not to analyze all elements of the prayer book or intervene in debates within ACNA, but simply to assess the success of this Book of Common Prayer as a “reform of the reform” in its treatment of the daily office and the Eucharist. Particularly for those of us in the Episcopal Church committed to preserving classical Anglican worship as our own church body gingerly embarks on liturgical revision, the 2019 BCP provides a helpful example. It shows the potential strengths of retrieving the Anglican liturgical tradition while warning us against creating a dichotomy between a supposedly-unified classical Anglican liturgical past and the twentieth-century liturgical movement. I hope that despite our very real differences with the Anglican Church in North America, this prayer book will be taken seriously by Episcopalians in our own processes of liturgical revision. The fruits of the ACNA approach to revision are particularly evident in the 2019 BCP’s daily office, which is significantly simpler and more user-friendly than the 1979 office precisely because it more closely follows traditional Anglican daily prayer. It preserves the four-fold pattern of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, but modifies morning and evening prayer especially so that they follow traditional forms in contemporary language. For example, the confession that opens morning and evening prayer is a fine contemporary-language rendering of Cranmer’s confession prayer at the office: “Almighty and most merciful Father, we have erred and strayed from your ways like lost sheep.” The line “there is no health in us” which was removed from Rite I of the 1979 makes a welcome reappearance here, albeit softened with the qualifier “apart from your grace.” (Notre Dame professor Samuel L Bray has explored the history and etymology of the line in arguing that the qualifier should have been omitted.) The invitatory material then breaks new ground for the American prayer book tradition; the preces follow the 1662 and the entirety of Psalm 95 is provided for the first time in an American prayer book. The psalms follow the much-anticipated Revised Coverdale Psalter, which (as its name suggests) is a revision of the traditional prayer book psalter rather than a wholesale new translation as in the 1979 BCP and the 1985 Canadian BAS. In one of my favorite changes, only the traditional canticles at morning and evening prayer are provided in the text of the prayer order itself, with the other canticles from the 1979 BCP provided in a supplemental section (all, of course, are in contemporary language). This allows variety for those who chafe at the restrictions of the traditional canticle setting, while emphasizing the use of the Gospel canticles and making it easier for newcomers to the daily office to decide which canticles to say. The only shortcoming here in my view is that the framers chose to make the Benedictus es Domine the alternative to the Te Deum in Lent, rather than the Benedicite as in the 1662. For the collects, both the seven-day cycle of the 1979 BCP and the invariable collects of the earlier prayer book tradition are provided as options, although here the seven-day cycle is favored by being set out in the text itself, with the invariable collects listed as an option in the rubrics. The result of all this is quite attractive indeed, especially when combined with easy-to-follow typesetting, with congregational responses always in bold, material spoken by one person in plain type, and rubrics and instructions in italics. In the end, ACNA has produced a daily office that restores the elegant simplicity of the pre-liturgical movement office in contemporary language and is easier to pray than the 1979, but also preserves approximately the same seasonal content and other variations of the 1979 in optional material for those who seek it out. For the Holy Eucharist, the 2019 BCP provides two forms which it calls the “Anglican Standard Text” and the “Renewed Ancient Text.” The latter is very similar to the 1979 Rite II Eucharist, with additional classical Anglican elements such as the Summary of the Law and the Prayer of Humble Access added; the eucharistic prayer draws from the same ancient text as the 1979’s Prayer A. As one might expect, the Anglican Standard Text is the communion service which mostly clearly engages in a retrieval of classical Anglican liturgy. Here, however, the results are more mixed than at the daily office, because this eucharistic liturgy unfortunately posits a single, unified Anglican communion service, deviated from only by the twentieth-century liturgical movement. The rubric Concerning the Holy Eucharist says as much: “The Anglican Standard Text is essentially that of the Holy Communion service of the Book of Common Prayer of 1662 and successor books through 1928, 1929, and 1962.” The first oddity here is that it is not entirely clear what prayer book is meant by the 1929. The deeper problem is that there is no single Holy Communion service across those prayer books: the Scots-American prayer of consecration (which one finds in the US 1928 BCP) and the English prayer of consecration of 1662 (which also appears in the Canadian 1962) are not, in fact, the same. While much of the text is identical between the two prayers, their ordering is significantly different, and the Scots-American prayer includes an epiclesis, or invocation of the Holy Spirit, and an oblation, or offering, of the elements which the English prayer does not. Indeed, over Anglican liturgical history, much ink has been spilled on the relative merits of both patterns – most publicly around the proposed English prayer book of 1928. While it is probably true that these two patterns are closer to each other than either is to the liturgical movement eucharistic prayers, it stretches the evidence to suggest that there is in fact one Anglican standard eucharistic order. While this does not cause any problems through the bulk of the service, it does render the eucharistic prayer rather muddled and confusing. In short, this BCP cannot decide whether it wants to be in the Scots-American tradition or the English-Canadian one, for its rhetoric of retrieval relies too heavily on the idea that there was a unified orthodox Anglican liturgical past which was ruptured only by the liberal excesses of the liturgical movement. Moreover, ACNA itself marks an unprecedented break in the tradition of Anglican polity and liturgy, attempting to merge congregations in the US and Canada with very different prayer book traditions. ACNA itself, to say nothing of its prayer book, is attempting to be both a Scots-American and an English-Canadian church, and the invocation of the 1662 and the 39 Articles as foundational cannot entirely disguise this fact. And so, the Anglican Standard Text prayer of consecration is mostly in the Scots-American ordering, but with the epiclesis before the words of institution in the so-called Roman position – a position which before the liturgical movement only occurs in Anglican liturgy in the 1549 English BCP and the 1637 Scottish – and with the oblation of the gifts removed. Moreover, several paragraphs of the prayer are listed as optional, and there is a footnote suggesting that the entire prayer can be conformed to the 1662 ordering instead (the Additional Directions Concerning Holy Communion at the end of the Communion liturgies provide more information as to how to do this). It would have been preferable to provide two prayers of consecration for the “Anglican Standard Text,” the 1662 and the Scots-American, or simply to make a choice between the two prayers, rather than a single prayer with a plethora of options. The result is a return of the confusing variations which this BCP so helpfully limited in the daily office. Perhaps the lesson of the ACNA BCP for us is this: thoughtful contemporary-language retrieval of classical Anglican liturgical texts and forms is very possible. Far from being stodgy or forbidding, this approach often makes liturgies more user-friendly by cutting down on the vast number of variations introduced during and after the liturgical movement. However, when such retrieval sets up a uniform classical Anglicanism against errors or excesses of the liturgical movement, it can smooth out of differences in the classical Anglican tradition in a way that produces less-than-coherent liturgies. The story of Anglican liturgy is more complicated and more interesting than unanimous orthodoxy giving way to liberalism and modernism in the twentieth century. Yet there is much to be said for the 2019 BCP, especially for those like me who believe that the prayer books inspired by the liturgical movement, for all their very real gains, regrettably neglected elements of the Anglican liturgical tradition focused on penitence and the cross. I hope its strengths will inform those in my own church who will be charged with revising the 1979 BCP, that we too may seek to bring together the best of both the liturgical movement and the classical Anglican traditions that preceded it. Ben Crosby is a postulant for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. He is currently a second-year student at Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, and has a particular interest in the retrieval of classical Anglican liturgy and theology. This essay has been slightly revised from the original version, in order to more accurately reflect the status of the epiclesis in earlier Anglican liturgies. 9 Responses Todd Granger August 7, 2019 As a member of a parish of the ACNA and an amateur liturgical historian, I’m thankful for your thoughtfully critical and generally appreciative appraisal of the BCP (2019). I have my own criticisms of the eucharistic rites that are not unlike your own. I would perhaps have been happier with contemporary language versions of the eucharistic rites of 1662 and American 1928, for pretty much the same reasons you’ve outlined here. (This is the course that the English Proposed Book of 1928 took, viz. inclusion of prayers of consecration from both the English/1662 tradition and the Scoto-American tradition. The 2005 Prayer Book of the Reformed Episcopal Church, itself now a subjurisdiction of the ACNA, includes the prayers of consecration from both 1662 and American 1928.) However, it is perhaps helpful to point out a couple of things regarding the Anglican Standard Text, particularly as regards Anglican liturgical history. 1) The Prayer of Consecration — explicitly so titled in the text, following the rubrical titling found in 1662 and 1928 etc. — is a near-exact parallel to the Prayer of Consecration found in the Scottish Prayer Book of 1637 (commonly if erroneously known as “Laud’s Prayer Book”). The Scottish Prayer of Consecration includes an epiclesis, the first liturgy derived from the liturgies of the reformed Church of England to do so, in the “Roman” position before the Words of Institution (as in the BCP 2019). Under Non-Juror influence, later episcopalian Scottish liturgies would move the epiclesis to the “Eastern” position, after the Words of Institution, and it is this later Scottish tradition that the American Church inherited through Samuel Seabury and his Communion office. Other than the rendering into contemporary language, the only textual difference between the two (Scottish 1637 and ACNA 2019) is the omission of “that they may be unto us the body and blood of thy most dearly beloved Son” in the epiclesis, a phrase also omitted in all American Prayer Books up through 1928 (and from the 1928 English Proposed Book as well). I find the parallel between the 1637 Scottish Prayer of Consecration and that of the ACNA 2019 book striking, though so far as I know this was not the intention of the committee (at least, it was never publicly announced to be so). As for the oblation, the only omission (and it is a significant one) is of the phrase, “which we now offer unto thee,” a phrase not found in the 1637 Scottish book nor in the 1928 English Proposed book, either. Otherwise the prayer historically referred to in Anglican liturgy as “the Oblation” is intact, immediately after the Words of Institution. 2) The allowance of a reordering of the eucharistic rite to that of 1662 is not without its liturgical historical precedent, either,, at least in terms of the shape of the Prayer of Consecration. In William McGarvey’s Liturgiae Americanae or The Book of Common Prayer as used in the United State of America (1895, rev. 1907), the author assays the proceedings of state conventions both before and after the first General Convention of 1785 and their reactions to the proposed Book of Common Prayer of 1786. While there are alterations elsewhere in the eucharistic rite of that proposed liturgy (most notably the omission of the Nicene Creed), the Prayer of Consecration is structurally and textually that of the 1662 Prayer Book, including the absence of an epiclesis. The first state convention to meet after the setting forth of the proposed Prayer Book was that of Maryland, in April 1786. According to McGarvey, among their recommendations for amendments to the book were these: “that the Nicene Creed should be restored to the Prayer Book, and printed as an alternative with the Apostles’ Creed, and that a prayer for the sanctification of the bread and wine should be inserted before the words of institution” — thus an epiclesis in the “Roman” position, like the Scottish book of 1637. (Their proposed text is given in an appendix and more nearly matches that of the 1637 Scottish liturgy than that of Seabury’s Communion Office.) Had this recommendation been followed by the next General Convention and Seabury’s Scottish-derived liturgy not been adopted, the Book of Common Prayer (1789) might have ended up with a Prayer of Consecration and eucharistic rite that looked very much like the 2019 “1662 alternative,” bequeathing American Anglicanism a different Scoto-American eucharistic tradition more akin to the English one. Reply Ben Crosby August 7, 2019 Thank you so much for this correction – this is, of course, exactly correct! Reply Jonathan Kanary August 7, 2019 I am grateful for this careful reading and charitable consideration of some key texts from the 2019 BCP. I do want to offer one small quibble on a point of fact. Mr. Crosby states that “the epiclesis before the words of institution in the so-called Roman position … only occurs in Anglican liturgies during the liturgical movement.” Todd Granger has already commented on the presence of an epiclesis before the words of institution in the 1637 Scottish book. But the roots for this pattern go even further back in our tradition, to Archbishop Cranmer himself, who included an epiclesis in his first Prayer Book (1549): “Heare us (o merciful father) we besech thee: and with thy holy spirite and worde, vouchsafe to blesse and sanctifie these thy gyftes, and creatures of bread and wyne, that they maie be unto us the bodye and bloude of thy moste derely beloved sonne Jesus Christe.” And — significantly — in 1549, these words immediately precede the words of institution. One member of the ACNA Liturgy Task Force who worked on early versions of this text told me that this Cranmerian precedent was an important factor in their decision to reverse the order of epiclesis and words of institution from that which has appeared in the Scottish-American tradition. I cannot disagree with Mr. Crosby that the diversity of Anglican traditions represented in the ACNA (a wide range of churchmanship as well as the bringing together of Canadian and US strands) led to a greater range of options in the Anglican Standard Text than is desirable in principle. I can only say that, after several years of using it in our parish, I have found that it does pray quite well when one simply follows the words as they are printed on the page. Reply Ben Crosby August 7, 2019 Thank you so much for this; I’m rather kicking myself for forgetting the epiclesis in the 1549! The insight that its position in the 1549 did ultimately shape the decision to place the epiclesis in the ‘Roman position’ in this BCP is particularly interesting. Reply Todd Granger August 7, 2019 Quite right regarding the 1549 Prayer Book. In fact, that was the example to which the Scottish bishops (particularly James Wedderburn) looked back in their formulation of the 1637 Prayer of Consecration. And thank you for the reminder about that liturgy’s importance to the task of the committee. Our parochial experience over the past two years has been similar to yours: simply follow the text as it appears. While I think that offering the possibility of reordering the rite in the direction of 1662 is a good thing, the provision for dropping paragraphs of the Prayer of Consecration isn’t. We don’t need all the à la carte options. Reply C SEITZ August 9, 2019 When I read studies of liturgical rites in Anglicanism/TEC I have the sense that we are being introduced to a scale. Less than good, better, very good, the best or the most faithful rite. My question is how to correlate this scale with the Body of Christ, the Church. Do rites make a Church? Do they make a Church better, more true, more healthy, with a clearer ‘dial tone’ to God? Anglicans refer to lex credendi/lex orandi and so rites and worship forms are looked to and given responsibility for doctrine, ethics, prayer, formation, in consequence. If one thinks of this ‘rites discussion’ in the context of a metaphor of a target, it seems that the bull’s-eye is what one is shooting for. And that this will convey truthfulness before God, and a form of spiritual health that does what God asks of us. I wonder if this is an adequate way to think about rites. If Christians across all denominated realities agreed on a rite, or a range of rites, would they therefore all be in the same ‘one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church’? Or is this a distinctively Anglican idea – and so even if these disparate bodies voted for rites and came up with an agreed upon ‘core’ around a ‘bull’s-eye,’ they would still demur when it comes to what it means to be the Body of Christ. I ask this because I wonder at times what the liturgical evaluation being undertaken means ecclesially? Can one have the best or near-best rite and mean something by this in terms of the Church? If so, how? And if not, do we have a distinctive of Anglican thinking and/or one that has not been thought through clearly when it comes to a bull’s eye called ‘the Church.’ Is the discussion indifferent to this dimension or does it assume ecclesial implications that are not truly present? Orthodox and Catholic Christians do not have the same liturgical rites, and indeed the latter are far closer to those of Anglicans than they are to the former. But this alone does not change the fact that Anglicans are not in the same relationship as are Catholics and the Orthodox, when one speaks ecclesially. I simply pose the question about what this fairly distinctive anglican instinct to focus on rites means in terms of the identity of the Church as “one, holy, catholic and apostolic” in relation to others making the same claim. Reply Benjamin von Bredow August 18, 2019 Thanks for a great article. I would just point out that the Canadian 1962 Prayer of Consecration is also not the 1662, although it is closer to the 1662 than the 1928 and the Scottish tradition. It includes a paragraph following the Words of Institution, with an anamnesis (“we they humble servants, with all thy holy Church, remembering the precious death of thy beloved Son …”), an ambiguous oblation (“we entirely desire thy fatherly goodness to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving”) and an ambiguous invocation (“we pray that by the power of thy Holy Spirit, all who are partakers of this holy Communion may be fulfilled with thy grace”). This prayer is definitely in the “English tradition,” and it is careful never to refer to the offering of or to the Spiritual indwelling of the elements as such. However, it’s just another example of the complexity of the tradition–and, perhaps, a more theologically coherent way to adapt the 1662 rite than to conflate it with the 1928. Reply Vaclav October 21, 2019 Thanks for your thoughts, Ben. Reply What's the difference between the 1979 & 2019 BCP? Which should I buy? December 22, 2020 […] You might also be interested in this appreciative review of the 2019 BCP written by an Episcopalian (who uses the 1979 BCP). […] Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.