Book of Common Prayer

Plug-In: Ties the bind -- Elizabeth II wove threads of faith and family into her funeral rites

Plug-In: Ties the bind -- Elizabeth II wove threads of faith and family into her funeral rites

In a previous Plug-in, we highlighted the importance of Queen Elizabeth II’s Christian faith in her life.

The 96-year-old monarch’s funeral rites certainly reflected that.

The Guardian’s Harriet Sherwood explains:

The powerful liturgy and rituals of the Church of England – the established church since the 16th century but increasingly marginalised in everyday life – were at the heart of a ceremony watched by billions around the world.

The Queen’s funeral took place under the magnificent gothic arches of Westminster Abbey, the setting for every coronation since 1066, home to the tombs of kings and queens, and the church where the then Princess Elizabeth was married in 1947.

The service was taken from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, the C of E’s official prayerbook, noted for its beautiful and archaic language but largely displaced in recent decades by those seeking a more modern style of worship.

The Queen was said to be devoted to the Book of Common Prayer, along with the hymns and readings chosen personally by the monarch for her funeral.

The Washington Times’ Mark A. Kellner offers additional details:

“Few leaders have received the outpouring of love we have seen,” Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby said during the state funeral. “Her Late Majesty’s example was not set through her position or her ambition, but through whom she followed.”

Archbishop Welby said the queen, who reigned for 70 years and celebrated her Platinum Jubilee in June, modeled the servant leadership expressed in the life of Jesus, her savior.

“People of loving service are rare in any walk of life,” he said. “Leaders of loving service are still rarer. But in all cases, those who serve will be loved and remembered when those who cling to power and privileges are long forgotten.”

At the National Catholic Register, Father Raymond J. de Souza characterizes the queen’s state funeral this way:


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St. Anne plays a major role in papal visit to Canada: Is she important to Catholics, alone?

St. Anne plays a major role in papal visit to Canada: Is she important to Catholics, alone?

Long ago, I had a strategic and symbolic on-deadline argument with Rocky Mountain News (#RIP) editor.

Holy Week loomed on the horizon, on the Western calendar, and I was asked to fill out a form requesting quick Ash Wednesday feature art. I suggested — thinking beauty and diversity — a visit to an Episcopal parish in the heart of Denver’s most prominent Black neighborhood, a congregation known for the beauty of its high-church, Anglo-Catholic rites.

The editor said the photo needed to be in a Catholic church, since Holy Week is a Catholic story. I said that was a logical way to think about it, since the Catholic church is so prominent. However, I noted that Holy Week is an ancient Christian tradition observed in many Christian churches and denominations. It would be good to remind readers of that fact. I won that debate and the result was a stunning photograph.

I thought of that debate when reading a timely Religion News Service piece that ran with this headline: “Who is St. Anne and why is she so important to Indigenous peoples?” Let me stress that this is a good story and a valid angle during the Pope Francis pilgrimage to Canada. I urge readers to check it out. Here is the top of that report:

When Pope Francis met with a delegation of First Nations, Métis and Inuit people in April at the Vatican, he told them he wanted to visit them in Canada this year. And not just at any time of the year, but during the Feast of St. Anne (July 26).

“I think with joy, for example, of the great veneration that many of you have for Saint Anne, the grandmother of Jesus,” Pope Francis told the Indigenous delegation to the Vatican. “This year I would like to be with you on those days.”

As the pope visits Canada through Friday (July 29), he will indeed celebrate the Feast of St. Anne in the country. He also will visit several sites dedicated to the saint, whom Catholics believe to be the mother of Mary and the grandmother of Jesus.

That last sentence includes a classic example of a statement — “whom Catholics believe to be the mother of Mary and the grandmother of Jesus” — that is certainly accurate, but it would still cause some readers to think, “Wait a minute. Aren’t there millions of other Christians who honor St. Anne for the same reasons?”


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The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

Episcopal bishops in the 1980s were already used to urgent calls from journalists seeking comments on issues ranging from gay priests to gun control, from female bishops to immigration laws, from gender-free liturgies to abortion rights.

But the pace quickened for Bishop William C. Frey in 1985 when he was one of four candidates to become presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church. A former radio professional, Frey was known for his bass voice and quick one-liners. His Lutheran counterpart in Colorado once told him: "You look like a movie star, sound like God and wear cowboy boots."

Other Denver religious leaders sometimes asked, with some envy, why Episcopalians got so much ink.

"I can't understand why some people want the kind of media attention we get," he told me, during one media storm. "That's like coveting another man's root canal."

A Texas native, Frey died in San Antonio last Sunday (Oct. 11), after years out of the spotlight. In addition to his Colorado tenure, his ministry included missionary work in Central America during the "death squads" era and leading an alternative Episcopal seminary in a struggling Pennsylvania steel town.

While critics called him the "token evangelical" in the presiding bishop race, Frey was a complex figure during his Colorado tenure, where I covered him for the now-closed Rocky Mountain News. He called himself a "radical moderate," while also attacking "theology by opinion poll."

“We need a church that knows its own identity and proclaims it fearlessly," he said, in his 1990 farewell sermon. "No more stealth religion! … We need a church that knows how to answer the question, 'What think ye of Christ?', without forming a committee to weigh all possible options. We need a church that doesn't cross its fingers when it says the creed."

Nevertheless, a conservative priest called him a "Marxist-inspired heretic" for backing the 1979 Book of Common Prayer and the ordination of women. The bishop opposed capital punishment -- and abortion -- and welcomed stricter gun-control laws. He backed expanded work with the homeless and immigrants. Then gay-rights activists called him a "charismatic fundamentalist" because he opposed the ordination of sexually active gays and lesbians and preached that sex outside of marriage was sin.

Also, before the presiding bishop election, Frey fielded questions -- and heard old whispers -- about the informal charismatic Christian community he led with his wife, Barbara (who died in 2014). At its peak, 21 people lived in the rambling Victorian home in urban Denver. In all, 65 different people lived there over the years, ranging from Emmy winner Ann B. Davis of "The Brady Bunch" to an undocumented family from Mexico. The record breakfast crowd was 76.


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Question for 2020: Can Episcopal clergy consecrate bread and wine through the Internet?

Question for 2020: Can Episcopal clergy consecrate bread and wine through the Internet?

In the late 1970s, the Episcopal Ad Project began releasing spots taking shots at television preachers and other trends in American evangelicalism.

One image showed a television serving as an altar, holding a priest's stole, a chalice and plate of Eucharistic hosts. The headline asked: "With all due regard to TV Christianity, have you ever seen a Sony that gives Holy Communion?"

Now some Anglicans are debating whether it's valid -- during the coronavirus crisis -- to celebrate "virtual Eucharists," with computers linking priests at altars and communicants with their own bread and wine at home.

In a recent House of Bishops meeting -- online, of course -- Episcopal Church leaders backed away from allowing what many call "Virtual Holy Eucharist."

Episcopal News Service said bishops met in private small groups to discuss if it's "theologically sound to allow Episcopalians to gather separately and receive Communion that has been consecrated by a priest remotely during an online service."

Experiments had already begun, in some Zip codes. In April, Bishop Jacob Owensby of the Diocese of Western Louisiana encouraged such rites among "Priests who have the technical know-how, the equipment and the inclination" to proceed.

People at home, he wrote, will "provide for themselves bread and wine (bread alone is also permissible) and place it on a table in front of them. The priest's consecration of elements in front of her or him extends to the bread and wine in each … household. The people will consume the consecrated elements."

Days later, after consulting with America's presiding bishop," Bishop Owensby rescinded those instructions. "I understand that virtual consecration of elements at a physical or geographical distance from the Altar exceeds the recognized bounds set by our rubrics and inscribed in our theology of the Eucharist," he wrote.

However, similar debates were already taking place among other Anglicans. In Australia, for example, Archbishop Glenn Davies of Sydney urged priests to be creative during this pandemic, while churches were being forced to shut their doors.

During a live-streamed rite, he wrote, parishioners "could participate in their own homes via the internet consuming their own bread and wine, in accordance with our Lord's command."


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Bitter split in Baptist flock in Alabama: Was this about Donald Trump or ancient doctrines?

As part of its ongoing visits to flyover country in Middle America, the New York Times recently ran a long feature with this epic headline: “The Walls of the Church Couldn’t Keep the Trump Era Out The young pastor wasn’t sure his congregation would like what he had to say and had no idea where it would lead all of them. He found himself at a crossroads of God, Alabama and Donald Trump.”

Now, that headline is — to be blunt — quite dishonest.

While I acknowledge that the Trump era plays a role in this Baptist drama — rooted in tensions surrounding the ministry of a progressive, the Rev. Chris Thomas — the Times article contains a thesis statement near the end that is much more honest. Here is that summary paragraph:

Racism had driven Mr. Thomas from his first church in Alabama; at Williams it had been gay rights that had caused the division.

In Times-speak, of course, debates about racism and gay rights are one and the same — ideological clashes about politics. The reality is more complex than that, pivoting on two ancient doctrinal questions: Is racism a sin? The orthodox (or Orthodox) answer is, “Yes.” The second question: Is sex outside of traditional marriage a sin? The orthodox answer there, for 2,000 years, has been, “Yes.”

There are other doctrines lurking in the background that may, or may not, have affected the crisis inside this particular Alabama congregation, which the Times piece describes as: “First Baptist Church of Williams, a relatively liberal church with a mostly white congregation.”

That’s a pretty good description of the world of “moderate” Baptists and the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, a network of like-minded churches that emerged after the Southern Baptist Convention civil war that began in the late 1970s.

There is no way for me to write about this story without saying, candidly, that this subject is directly linked to my life and that of my family, at all levels. My wife and I were married in a “moderate” church next to Baylor University, using a rite from a modernized version of the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. The last Baptist congregation we attended — in Charlotte, N.C. — was to the theological left of FBC Williams.

A key moment, for me, was a conversation I had with one of the church deacons, a philosophy professor at a Baptist college near Charlotte. This church leader asked what, for me, was the most important doctrine in Christian faith.


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'Soothing sounds meet church liturgy' -- AP needed more facts about 'sound bath' prayers

There are few liturgical rites used in the global Anglican Communion that are more beautiful then the service known as “Compline,” “Vespers,” “Evensong” or simply “Evening Prayer.” Similar services are common in Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism.

The blending of music, prayers and biblical texts in the Compline rites at Magdalen College, Oxford, are world famous. The historic Trinity Episcopal Church on Wall Street offers a variety of Evening Prayer rites, including its well-known Sunday evening “Compline by Candlelight” service.

Worshipers who attend these rites are used to hearing texts such as this one from Psalm 74: “Yours is the day, O God, yours also the night; you established the moon and the sun. You fixed all the boundaries of the
earth; you made both summer and winter.” Psalm 141 includes this poetic image: “Let my prayer be set forth in your sight as incense, the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice."

As believers move from the trials of daily life into the evening hours, these rites almost always include some kind of confession of sins, such as this “Book of Common Prayer” text:

“Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.”

According to a long, fascinating Associated Press report — which combines text and video — something rather different is taking place in an Episcopal sanctuary in Park Slope, one of New York City’s trendy neighborhoods.

Readers are given quite a bit of information about some of the contents of an evening prayer rite at this parish. At the same, readers learn next to nothing — other than a few strategic hints — about what has been edited out of this liturgy or added to it. Both halves of that equation could be news. Let’s start with the overture:

NEW YORK (AP) — Meditation and immersion in soothing sounds meet church liturgy at All Saints Episcopal Church in Brooklyn. The combination takes on stress — and self-examination. Welcome to sound bath Evensong.

The first time Alexis Dixon attended a sound bath Evensong at the church, she cried.


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Is it OK to pray for President Donald Trump’s defeat?

Is it OK to pray for President Donald Trump’s defeat?

BRAD ASKS:      

I think Trump is a bad president. Is it right of me to pray for his defeat?

THE RELIGION GUY’S ANSWER:

Let’s turn Brad’s question around. Will it be proper for others to pray for the defeat of the Democrats’ 2020 nominee? Does this change the answer?

The president has provoked the most ferocious pro-and-con political emotions in our lifetimes, so prayers inevitably result. That’s because prayer is a virtually universal phenomenon.

We all know the phrase ‘foxhole religion” about desperate situations. How many hardened unbelievers find themselves offering sincere prayers when their child is in the emergency room?  Even under ordinary circumstances, Pew Research polling shows 55 percent of Americans say they pray every day, while an added 21 percent pray regularly but less frequently. Even one-fifth of those without any religious affiliation or identity pray daily!

There are countless accounts of favorable responses to prayer, yet how do we understand the many prayers left unanswered? Why do bad things happen to good people despite their prayers? Why do good things happen to evil people who never pray? What happens when, as with election 2020, people pray simultaneously for opposite results a la President Lincoln on the two sides in the Civil War: “Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes his aid against the other.”

Mysteries abound. A veteran minister’s newsletter says after a “physical breakdown” and full medical testing last year, doctors concluded he was “exhausted by stress and worry.” He indeed faced major difficulties, but the diagnosis surprised him because he was praying so earnestly. He finally realized “I was simply worrying in the presence of God,” which “wore me out.” His health gradually improved after he learned to relax and simply pray for “strength to persevere,” with “peace in the assurance that God has heard me.”

These are among the most complex matters of the human heart, as ancient as the Bible’s Psalms and Book of Job (which provide us no neat formulas).


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Union made in tabloid heaven: British woman wants 'open' marriage with a chandelier

Talk about a story that has tabloid headlines written all over it.

The headline in The Mirror, on the other side of the Atlantic, was rather low key: “Bride plans to marry chandelier — but is in open relationship with other objects.

I realize that this is a bit of a reach, for GetReligion. Nevertheless, I have a question about the mainstream news coverage of this story, as in: If there is going to be a marriage ceremony in this case, who will perform the rite?

If there is a rite, will there be any religious content in the text? I think that it’s safe to say this particular circumstance was not anticipated by liturgists who created the modernized, alternative service books that have expanded the Church of England’s old Book of Common Prayer.

So are we talking about a service by a click-here-to-be-ordained online minister? Will this be a neopagan rite of some kind? A simple secular union rite? Didn’t any reporter think to ask this logical question?

Let’s pause to hear from the bride:

A bride-to-be is excitedly planning her big white wedding in a bid to marry her chandelier.

Amanda Liberty, describes herself as being in an open relationship with several chandeliers and is determined to shed light on her unusual relationship. She hopes that 'marriage' to her favourite one will prove her love is valid.

Amanda, 35, from Leeds, identifies as an objectum sexual — which means she is attracted to objects. And the bride-to-be - who had previously changed her surname by deed poll during a relationship with the Statue of Liberty — has decided to seek a commitment ceremony to her chandelier known as Lumiere.

What a minute! There’s a New York City angle to this wedding?

Amanda Liberty changed her name in the wake of her, uh, same-gender union with the Statue of Liberty? There has to be a New York Post headline for this story.


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Old Chicago church gets converted: It's a real estate story, but there are religion questions

News consumers who have been paying attention to religion trends may have noticed this one: There are lots of church buildings for sale these days.

This is especially true with old-line Protestant sanctuaries located in older neighborhoods — often on prime property deep inside zip codes that are evolving due to gentrification.

What to do? Well, lots of urban folks — singles, cohabitating couples, married-without-kids folks — are attracted to unique condos and apartments that don’t look like they are assembled using cookie-cutters and one or two sets of design plans.

That brings us to the following real-estate headline at The Chicago Tribune: “Logan Square church gets new life as 9 luxury apartments.” Let me stress that I realize that this is a real-estate story. One should not expect that news desk to provide a lot of depth, when it comes to the religious implications of some of the information in a news report of this kind.

But let’s see if you can spot the detail that I think would have been worth a follow-up question or two — a click of a computer mouse, at least, or even a telephone call. Things start in a rather predictable manner, with a bad pun:

Living in one new Logan Square apartment building is a heavenly experience. The former church was converted into nine distinctive residences, incorporating many of the original architectural features.

The historic Episcopal Church of the Advent was built in 1926 by renowned architect Elmer C. Jensen, who designed and engineered more than two dozen of the city’s early skyscrapers. The church closed in 2016 due to dwindling membership.

That brings us to the colorful details that caught my attention. Read this carefully and think, well, sort of like a liturgist, or a religion-beat professional:

In preparation for its second life, the building interior was mostly gutted, and the space was subdivided. Stained glass art windows, ornate chandeliers, decorative millwork, and stone arches and columns are among the retained features. In one apartment, a stone altar acts as the base for a kitchen island. In another, wainscoting was installed to complement the existing millwork. The church exterior was preserved in entirety.

“Any of the elements that were left here, the developer was able to repurpose and reuse,” said Mark Durakovic, principal at Kass Management Services, which is managing and leasing the building.

Wait a minute!


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