03 February 2019

‘The fast-gaining waves …
beat, like passing bells,
against the Stones of Venice’

Tourists on the duck walks in Saint Mark's Square … is Venice drowning under a sea of tourists (Photograph: Patrick Comerford; click on images for full-screen views)

Patrick Comerford

The success of the Wild Atlantic Way, and new plans to attract 175,000 Chinese tourists a year to Ireland show how proud Irish people are in our tourism sector. Tourism was almost non-existent until the 1960s, but today it accounts for just over 10% of global GDP. With cheap flights and increased disposable income, tourists are proving impossible to keep away.

Tourism promotes Ireland as a country, raises awareness of Irish culture, wins Ireland friends on the international stage, and is a major source of foreign revenue. On the other hand, many Italians now resent the place of tourism in their economy and the presence of tourists in their cities.

The Duomo in Florence … Italy is the fifth most-visited country in the world, and with 52.4 million tourists a year it can no longer cope (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Last month, in an effort to stem the rising tide of visitors, Venice announced a plan to charge a €10 entrance tax for day-trippers, and the Mayor of Florence is considering something similar. Two years ago, the Cinque Terre region in Liguria introduced a ticketing system to limit the number of tourists to 1.5 million a year.

Victim of its own success?

The Cinque Terre region in Liguria has introduced a ticketing system to limit the number of tourists to 1.5 million a year (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In an effort to stem the rising tide of visitors, Venice plans to charge day-trippers a €10 entrance tax (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Perhaps Italy is a victim of its own success – it is the fifth most-visited country in the world, and with 52.4 million tourists a year it can no longer cope. But the problem is not just numbers. Many people also resent the crass superficiality of visitors who wander around with selfie sticks, as keen to see themselves in a city as to see the city itself.

The scorn for tourists has been created by environmental damage caused by the growing number of cheap flights, the increased popularity of cruise ships and the damage caused by litter, erosion, vandalism, congestion, pollution and climate change. This scorn becomes a lethal cocktail with the added ingredients of racism and xenophobia introduced by far-right activities, so that foreigners, tourists, migrants, immigrants and refugees are all put together in the minds of the mindless.

Tourists, for their part, often feel welcome only because they are cash cows. There are regular reports of tourists claiming they have been overcharged for a coffee in Saint Mark’s Square and signs throughout Venice warn them against eating in public.

Mobile barriers to withstand exceptional flooding are expected to be in place in Venice by 2021 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The new Venetian tax is less likely to cut tourist numbers and more likely to increase the resentment among tourists who feel exploited and welcome only for their money. Indeed, turnstiles at the city gates may only increase the impression that Venice is just one more large theme park rather than a living city, with real-life inhabitants and pressing problems that need sympathy as well as money in the search for a solution.

Sunset at Santa Maria della Salute … the base rate for flooding in Venice was established in 1871 at the Punta della Salute Observatory (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Rising sea levels

A study by Kiel University shows projected sea-level rises for the Mediterranean may affect the 49 Unesco World Heritage sites. The most threatened are on the Adriatic coast: Venice, Aquileia, Ravenna and Ferrara, followed by the episcopal complex at Porec in Croatia. The list also includes coastal sites in Tunisia such as the Medina of Tunis, Carthage and Sabratha, as well the Amalfi coast, the Roman city of Arles, the Greek temples south of Naples, the crusader city of Acre, ancient Ephesus and Tel Aviv.

According to the study, published in the journal Nature, the highest number of sites at risk is in Italy (14), followed by Croatia (7) and Greece (4). In addition, almost all the Aegean coast of Turkey with its important Hellenistic sites is also in the higher risk range.

However, turning knowledge into effective action is a lengthy and fraught process, as shown by the long-delayed and incomplete actions of the Italian government to protect the city of Venice.

High waters in the Lagoon at Torcello … erosion is caused by the lagoon losing sediment into the Adriatic with every low tide (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Venice floods frequently, sometimes to considerable depth. Flooding begins at 80 cm, and shortly before I visited late last year, the water level reached 156 cm above the base rate established in 1871 at the Punta della Salute Observatory.

The report puts Venice in the highest risk category because of both erosion and sea-level rises, with storm surges of up to 2.5 metres projected by 2100. Erosion is caused by the lagoon losing sediment into the Adriatic with every low tide, while the water level in the city is already 30 cm higher than in 1871.

The report says Venice will be protected by mobile barriers intended to withstand an exceptional flooding event of up to 3 metres. They are expected to be in place in 2021, but even then they are 10 years late. Nor can they save Venice from the chronic rise in sea-levels that will lead to flooding at every high tide by the end of the 21st century unless the barriers are kept almost permanently closed – and this, in turn, will cause serious pollution in the Lagoon.

A gondola with tourists passes the Palazzo Contarini Fasan (left), said to have been the home of Desdemona (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

More tourists, fewer residents

Meanwhile, Venice is drowning. For days before my visit last November, daily news reports showed Saint Mark’s Square covered in high waters, with tourists using duck walks or wading through the acqua alta up to their hips or even up to their waists in water.

The Mayor of Venice, Luigi Brugnaro, has proposed a cap on day-trippers. Before the summer season began last year, crowd-control gates were installed at pinch-points in May to control the flow of tourists. When the crowds got too large, police closed the main entrances, limiting access to local residents and workers with a special pass.

Saint Mark’s Basilica … Venice has always been a popular destination, even before the ‘Grand Tours’ of the 18th century (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today, there are more tourists and fewer residents in Venice, making many wonder whether Venice is in danger of drowning, not just under the waters of the Adriatic but under the flood of visitors who rise in numbers year after year.

In a recent feature on tourism headed ‘Wish you weren’t here,’ the Economist recalled a study in 1988 that found Venice could hold at most 20,750 visitors a day – a figure that is about a quarter of tourist traffic 30 years later. Yet the increased demand has not been met by building better public transport.

Venice has lost more than half its population in the past 50 years. Those who stay are left wondering how they can fight to reclaim and preserve their city. The resident population has dropped below 55,000 as Venetians find themselves priced out of their home city. If Venice is in danger of sinking, then it is in more imminent danger of shrinking.

Venice has always been a popular destination, even before the ‘Grand Tours’ of the 18th century. Ever since the fall of the Venetian Republic in 1797, local people have complained that Venice is being overrun by visitors. Napoleon wanted to own Venice, and ever since the Victorian era writers and artists have sought inspiration – and romance – in its waters and in its architecture.

But the city is groaning under the weight of tourism and in recent years tension has grown between visitors and local people, who fear their city is becoming just another Disneyland.

Ryanair, ‘selfies’ to post on Facebook and Instagram, cheap flights, and towering cruise ships now mean that on any given day that there are more visitors than residents in Venice. But the majority of visitors are day-trippers, and few stay overnight in the city. This means most of them spend their time and their money in the same small areas.

Venice is a timeless city where no one has any real time for her (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

No time for a timeless city

Venice is a timeless city where no one has any real time for her. Many of the 30 million visitors a year are grab-and-go day-trippers, who seldom venture off the tourist trail to explore side streets and quieter piazzas.

Venice is dwindling away. Around 1,000 residents move to the mainland every year, unable to afford rising rent demands, pushed to find employment outside tourism, or unwilling to live in a city that is losing a sense of community.

Angry local people recently plastered Venice with graffiti and flyers that scream out, ‘Tourists Go Home!’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Small businesses and local shops are being replaced by souvenir stalls with cheap imports and fast food restaurants to cater for the day-trippers who prefer to munch rather than lunch and who are gone once darkness begins to fall.

It is all too easy for me to descend into snobbery about other tourists. I like to think that I have visited Venice because of my cultural tastes, including architecture, history, Byzantine churches and palaces, its influence on shaping the cultural identity of Europe today.

The Ponte Vecchio in Florence … the Mayor of Florence is considering entrance tax for day-trippers (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

I had been to Venice on three or four day-trips in the past before staying for the best part of the week late last year. I watched dismissively what I could too easily see as hordes who had been disgorged from coaches and cruise liners early in the morning, follow the coloured umbrellas and flags from San Marco to Rialto, stopping only to buy cheap Chinese-made reproduction masks, and then leave in the early evening, imagining someone is going to switch off the lights when they leave.

But why should the music of Vivaldi, the architectural musings of Ruskin and an interest in Byzantine art and history make my visits more culturally acceptable than the group of young women from northern Europe who want to enjoy a hens’ weekend in Venice or the young men who have come for a stag night or a football match?

Traditional crafts, small businesses and local restaurants are being squeezed out of business in Venice (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Day-trippers are important in any society. They go home with positive impressions, many want to read and learn more, and some will return.

On a recent visit to Tangier, I realised that for many in the group it was their first encounter with a Muslim-majority or Arabic-speaking society. I had no doubts that they would return home with different attitudes, and perhaps even return to Morocco for a longer visit.

Day-trippers seldom venture off the tourist trail to explore side streets and quieter piazzas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

However, in Venice frustration with visitors has grown to the point that last summer angry locals plastered the city with graffiti and flyers that scream out, ‘Tourists Go Home!’ Venice is dwindling away: around 1,000 residents move to the mainland every year, unable to afford rising rents, pushed to find employment outside tourism, or unwilling to live in a city that is losing a sense of community.

Recent measures introduced to control tourism and protect the city include bans on new hotels and takeaway food joints in the historic centre. But Unesco’s concerns about cruise ships, mass tourism and damage to the fragile lagoon ecosystem have been met with empty promises and no concrete proposals.

The Grand Canal seen from under Rialto Bridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Tourism could be the problem, but it could also be a solution, not only keeping businesses alive but also making people aware of the crises that Venice faces and that must be addressed if Venice is to be saved.

In the 1850s, John Ruskin warned that Venice was being so abused and neglected that it would eventually melt into the lagoon ‘like a lump of sugar in hot tea.’ In an alarm signal that is still resonant, he heard ‘the fast-gaining waves … beat, like passing bells, against the Stones of Venice.’

Vivienne Westwood once asked: ‘If we can’t save Venice, how do we save the world?’

John Ruskin once said ‘The Ducal Palace of Venice … is the central building of the world’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

This feature was first published in February 2019 in the ‘Church Review’ (Dublin and Glendalough) and the ‘Diocesan Magazine’ (Cashel, Ferns and Ossory)

The pivotal day that
links birth and death,
Christmas and Easter

The Presentation in the Temple … a fresco in Analipsi Church in Georgioupoli in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)

Patrick Comerford

Sunday 3 February 2019,

The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, The Presentation of Christ


11.30 a.m., Saint Brendan’s Church, Kilnaughtin (Tarbert), Co Kerry, Morning Prayer.

Readings: Malachi 3: 1-5; Psalm 24: 1-10; Hebrews 2: 14-18; Luke 2: 22-40.

May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

This morning we are celebrating the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, or Candlemas. This feast falls 40 days after Christmas, and it is the climax of the Christmas and Epiphany season. It is a feast that is rich in meaning, with several contrasting images.

In our Gospel story (Luke 2: 22-40), we have contrasts between the poverty of this family and the richly-endowed Temple; the young Joseph and Mary with their first-born child and the old Simeon and Anna who are probably childless; the provincial home in Nazareth and the urbane sophistication of Jerusalem; the glory of one nation, Israel, and light for all nations, the Gentiles; the birth of a child and the expectation of death; darkness and light; new birth and impending death.

So what is going on in this Gospel reading?

Like all Jewish boys, the Christ Child was circumcised eight days after his birth, marking him as a member of God’s people. Then, 40 days after the birth of her first son, a mother could be purified before a priest in the Temple. Exodus required that every first-born boy be consecrated to God (see Exodus 13: 2, 12; Numbers 3: 13).

The expected offering was a lamb, along with a turtledove or a pigeon. But if the family was poor, two turtledoves or pigeons would suffice.

This family fulfils these religious expectations when they bring the Christ Child to the Temple in Jerusalem. But did you notice how this is a poor family? Saint Joseph and the Virgin Mary are so poor that they bring two cheap doves or pigeons – the price of a sacrificial lamb is too much for the child who is the Lamb of God.

But, like Joseph and Mary, Simeon and Anna stand before God, in God’s presence, in humility and in equality.

Simeon is an old man who knows he is near his dying days. His words are familiar to many in our canticle this morning, Nunc Dimittis. He begins by saying that God is setting him free. He knows now that this child is the fulfilment of God’s promise not only to the Children of Israel, but to all children, all people.

Simeon blesses the family and tells the Virgin Mary that this Christ Child is destined for death and resurrection. He speaks in prophetic words of the falling and rising of many and the sword that will piece the Virgin Mary’s heart. His words remind us sharply that the birth and Christmas are meaningless without the death and Easter.

Traditionally, Candlemas is the end of the Christmas season. The liturgical colour is going to change from the White of rejoicing to the Green of ordinary, everyday life. This is the day that bridges the gap between Christmas and Lent, that bridges the gap between a time of celebration and a time of reflection, a time of joy and a time for taking stock once again.

This is an opportunity to take stock of where we are. After two decades of the darkness of recession and austerity, politicians and economists are hoping for light at the end of the tunnel.

For many of us, we moved long ago from a time of financial certainty that allowed us to celebrate easily to a time of reflection and uncertainty. Now, the debates about ‘Brexit’ leave the majority of us with a new set of anxieties and uncertainties.

The lights of Christmas and its celebrations seem dim and distant now. Now, at Candlemas, most people in Ireland are living very ordinary days with uncertainty, wondering how long we must remain in the dark, trying to grasp for signs of hope.

How Mary must have wept in her heart as in today’s Gospel story the old man Simeon hands back her child and warns her that a sword would pierce her heart (Luke 2: 35).

How many mothers are weeping in their hearts and clinging on to the rock of faith just by the end of their fingertips as their hearts, their souls, are pierced by a sword?

Mothers whose lives were held in slavery by fear (see Hebrews 2: 15).

Mothers who see their special needs children denied special needs assistants in our schools.

Mothers who see their children waiting, waiting too long, for care in our hospitals or to move from the uncertainty of hotel rooms or hostels to a house and a home.

Mothers who saw their graduate daughters and sons unable to find employment and have not yet returned home.

Mothers whose silent weeping is not going to bring home their adult emigrant children and the grandchildren born in Australia or the US.

Mothers whose gay sons and lesbian daughters are beaten up on the streets just for the fun of it and are afraid if they come out that our Church can only offer tea and sympathy, at best, but moralising prejudice most of the time.

Mothers whose husbands are on low pay or dismissed as mere statistics in the figures for poverty.

Mothers whose adult children are caught up in substance abuse and have lost all hope for the future – for a future.

These mothers know what TS Eliot calls ‘the certain hour of maternal sorrow.’ Like the Prophet in TS Eliot’s poem A Song for Simeon, these mothers ‘Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.’ And they know too how true Simeon’s words are for them this morning: ‘and a sword will pierce your soul too.’

If the Virgin Mary had known what grief would pierce her soul, would she have said ‘Yes’ to the Archangel Gabriel at the Annunciation?

And in the midst of all this heartbreak, these mothers still cling on to the edge of the rock of faith by the edges of their fingernails. Wondering who hears their sobbing hearts and souls.

If they had known what grief would pierce their souls they would still have said yes, because they love their children, and no sword can kill that. They know too their children are immaculate conceptions, for their children too are conceived in a love for their world, our world, that is self-giving and sinless. And they continue to see the reflection and image of Christ in their children as they look into their eyes lovingly. Is that too not a truth and a hope at the heart of the Incarnation?

So often it is difficult to hold on to hope when our hearts are breaking and are pierced. So often it is difficult to keep the lights of our hearts burning brightly when everything is gloomy and getting dark. But Simeon points out that the Christ Child does not hold out any selfish hope for any one individual or one family ... he is to be a light to the nations, to all of humanity.

Simeon is blind to poverty, ethnicity, religion, social class, place and time of birth – they are of no concern for Simeon, he sees the child as God sees the Child. In this Child, God is breaking down the barriers we have between one another and between us and God.

And as our leaders – political, social, economic and financial leaders – search in the dark for the hope that will bring light back into our lives, we can remind ourselves that this search will have no purpose and it will offer no glimmer of hope unless it seeks more than selfish profit. This search must seek the good of all, it must seek to bring hope and light to all, not just here, but to all people and to all nations.

This feast of Candlemas bridges the gap between Christmas and Lent; links the joy of the Christmas candles with the hope of the Pascal candle at Easter; invites us to move from celebration to reflection and preparation, and to think about the source of our hope, our inspiration, our enlightenment.

Our third hymn this morning is Timothy Dudley-Smith’s hymn that draw on Simeon’s prophetic words in the Canticle Nunc Dimittis. To paraphrase that hymn, as we watch and wait in our faithful vigil for Christ’s glory in that Easter hope, may our doubting cease, may God’s silent, suffering people find deliverance and freedom from oppression, may his servants find peace, may he complete in us his perfect will.

And so, may all we think, say and so be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

The Presentation or Candlemas … a stained glass window in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Luke 2: 22-40:

22 When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23 (as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord’), 24 and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’

25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

29 ‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
30 for my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’

33 And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’

36 There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, 37 then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. 38 At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

39 When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. 40 The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him.

‘Candlemas 2012’ (York Minster) by Susan Hufton … from the exhibition ‘Holy Writ’ at Lichfield Cathedral in 2014 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Liturgical Colour: White.

Bidding Prayer:

Dear friends, forty days ago we celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now we recall the day on which he was presented in the Temple, when he was offered to the Father and shown to his people.

As a sign of his coming among us, his mother was purified according to the custom of the time, and we now come to him for cleansing. In their old age Simeon and Anna recognised him as their Lord, as we today sing of his glory.

On this morning, we celebrate both the joy of his coming and his searching judgement, looking back to the day of his birth and forward to the coming days of his passion.

So let us pray that we may know and share the light of Christ.

Penitential Kyries:

Lord God, mighty God,
you are the creator of the world.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

Lord Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary,
you are the Prince of Peace.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.

Holy Spirit,
by your power the Word was made flesh
and came to dwell among us.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

The Collect:

Almighty and everliving God,
clothed in majesty,
whose beloved Son was this day presented in the temple
in the substance of our mortal nature:
May we be presented to you with pure and clean hearts,
by your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

Introduction to the Peace:

In the tender mercy of our God
the dayspring from on high has broken upon us,
to give light to those who dwell in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace. (cf Luke 1: 78, 79)
(Common Worship, p. 306)

Blessing:

Christ the Son of God, born of Mary,
fill you with his grace
to trust his promises and obey his will:

The Presentation in the Temple, carved on a panel on a triptych in the Lady Chapel, Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford/Lichfield Gazette)

Suitable intercessions:

In peace let us pray to the Lord.

By the mystery of the Word made flesh
Good Lord, deliver us.

By the birth in time of the timeless Son of God
Good Lord, deliver us.

By the baptism of the Son of God in the river Jordan
Good Lord, deliver us.

For the kingdoms of this world,
that they may become the Kingdom of our Lord and Christ
We pray to you, O Lord.

For your holy, catholic and apostolic Church,
that it may be one
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the witness of your faithful people,
that they may be lights in the world
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the poor, the persecuted, the sick and all who suffer;
that they may be relieved and protected
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the aged, for refugees and all in danger,
that they may be strengthened and defended
We pray to you, O Lord.

For those who walk in darkness and in the shadow of death,
that they may come to your eternal light
We pray to you, O Lord.

Father, source of light and life,
Grant the prayers of your faithful people,
and fill the world with your glory, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Hymns:

52, Christ, whose glory fills the skies (CD 4)
119, Come, thou long-expected Jesus (CD 8)
691, Faithful vigil ended (CD 39)

‘Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace’ … a window in Saint Bartholomew’s Church, Ballsbridge, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org

Material from The Book of Common Prayer (the Church of Ireland, 2004) is copyright © Representative Body of the Church of Ireland 2004.

Material from Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England is copyright © The Archbishops’ Council 2000.

‘A light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel’ … a January sunrise at the Rectory in Askeaton, Co Limerick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

‘For my eyes have seen your
salvation, which you have prepared
in the presence of all peoples’

The Presentation or Candlemas … a stained glass window in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Sunday 3 February 2019,

The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, The Presentation of Christ


9.30 a.m., Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick, The Parish Eucharist (Holy Communion 2)

Readings: Malachi 3: 1-5; Psalm 24: 1-10; Hebrews 2: 14-18; Luke 2: 22-40.

May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

This morning we are celebrating the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, or Candlemas. This feast falls 40 days after Christmas, and it is the climax of the Christmas and Epiphany season. It is a feast that is rich in meaning, with several contrasting images.

In our Gospel story (Luke 2: 22-40), we have contrasts between the poverty of this family and the richly-endowed Temple; the young Joseph and Mary with their first-born child and the old Simeon and Anna who are probably childless; the provincial home in Nazareth and the urbane sophistication of Jerusalem; the glory of one nation, Israel, and light for all nations, the Gentiles; the birth of a child and the expectation of death; darkness and light; new birth and impending death.

So what is going on in this Gospel reading?

Like all Jewish boys, the Christ Child was circumcised eight days after his birth, marking him as a member of God’s people. Then, 40 days after the birth of her first son, a mother could be purified before a priest in the Temple. Exodus required that every first-born boy be consecrated to God (see Exodus 13: 2, 12; Numbers 3: 13).

The expected offering was a lamb, along with a turtledove or a pigeon. But if the family was poor, two turtledoves or pigeons would suffice.

This family fulfils these religious expectations when they bring the Christ Child to the Temple in Jerusalem. But did you notice how this is a poor family? Saint Joseph and the Virgin Mary are so poor that they bring two cheap doves or pigeons – the price of a sacrificial lamb is too much for the child who is the Lamb of God.

But, like Joseph and Mary, Simeon and Anna stand before God, in God’s presence, in humility and in equality.

Simeon is an old man who knows he is near his dying days. His words are familiar to many in the canticle Nunc Dimittis. He begins by saying that God is setting him free. He knows now that this child is the fulfilment of God’s promise not only to the Children of Israel, but to all children, all people.

Simeon blesses the family and tells the Virgin Mary that this Christ Child is destined for death and resurrection. He speaks in prophetic words of the falling and rising of many and the sword that will piece the Virgin Mary’s heart. His words remind us sharply that the birth and Christmas are meaningless without the death and Easter.

Traditionally, Candlemas is the end of the Christmas season. The liturgical colour is going to change from the White of rejoicing to the Green of ordinary, everyday life. This is the day that bridges the gap between Christmas and Lent, that bridges the gap between a time of celebration and a time of reflection, a time of joy and a time for taking stock once again.

This is an opportunity to take stock of where we are. After two decades of the darkness of recession and austerity, politicians and economists are hoping for light at the end of the tunnel.

For many of us, we moved long ago from a time of financial certainty that allowed us to celebrate easily to a time of reflection and uncertainty. Now, the debates about ‘Brexit’ leave the majority of us with a new set of anxieties and uncertainties.

The lights of Christmas and its celebrations seem dim and distant now. Now, at Candlemas, most people in Ireland are living very ordinary days with uncertainty, wondering how long we must remain in the dark, trying to grasp for signs of hope.

How Mary must have wept in her heart as in today’s Gospel story the old man Simeon hands back her child and warns her that a sword would pierce her heart (Luke 2: 35).

How many mothers are weeping in their hearts and clinging on to the rock of faith just by the end of their fingertips as their hearts, their souls, are pierced by a sword?

Mothers whose lives were held in slavery by fear (see Hebrews 2: 15).

Mothers who see their special needs children denied special needs assistants in our schools.

Mothers who see their children waiting, waiting too long, for care in our hospitals or to move from the uncertainty of hotel rooms or hostels to a house and a home.

Mothers who saw their graduate daughters and sons unable to find employment and have not yet returned home.

Mothers whose silent weeping is not going to bring home their adult emigrant children and the grandchildren born in Australia or the US.

Mothers whose gay sons and lesbian daughters are beaten up on the streets just for the fun of it and are afraid if they come out that our Church can only offer tea and sympathy, at best, but moralising prejudice most of the time.

Mothers whose husbands are on low pay or dismissed as mere statistics in the figures for poverty.

Mothers whose adult children are caught up in substance abuse and have lost all hope for the future – for a future.

These mothers know what TS Eliot calls ‘the certain hour of maternal sorrow.’ Like the Prophet in TS Eliot’s poem A Song for Simeon, these mothers ‘Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.’ And they know too how true Simeon’s words are for them this morning: ‘and a sword will pierce your soul too.’

If the Virgin Mary had known what grief would pierce her soul, would she have said ‘Yes’ to the Archangel Gabriel at the Annunciation?

And in the midst of all this heartbreak, these mothers still cling on to the edge of the rock of faith by the edges of their fingernails. Wondering who hears their sobbing hearts and souls.

If they had known what grief would pierce their souls they would still have said yes, because they love their children, and no sword can kill that. They know too their children are immaculate conceptions, for their children too are conceived in a love for their world, our world, that is self-giving and sinless. And they continue to see the reflection and image of Christ in their children as they look into their eyes lovingly. Is that too not a truth and a hope at the heart of the Incarnation?

So often it is difficult to hold on to hope when our hearts are breaking and are pierced. So often it is difficult to keep the lights of our hearts burning brightly when everything is gloomy and getting dark. But Simeon points out that the Christ Child does not hold out any selfish hope for any one individual or one family ... he is to be a light to the nations, to all of humanity.

Simeon is blind to poverty, ethnicity, religion, social class, place and time of birth – they are of no concern for Simeon, he sees the child as God sees the Child. In this Child, God is breaking down the barriers we have between one another and between us and God.

And as our leaders – political, social, economic and financial leaders – search in the dark for the hope that will bring light back into our lives, we can remind ourselves that this search will have no purpose and it will offer no glimmer of hope unless it seeks more than selfish profit. This search must seek the good of all, it must seek to bring hope and light to all, not just here, but to all people and to all nations.

This feast of Candlemas bridges the gap between Christmas and Lent; links the joy of the Christmas candles with the hope of the Pascal candle at Easter; invites us to move from celebration to reflection and preparation, and to think about the source of our hope, our inspiration, our enlightenment.

Our third hymn this morning is Timothy Dudley-Smith’s hymn that draw on Simeon’s prophetic words in the Canticle Nunc Dimittis. To paraphrase that hymn, as we watch and wait in our faithful vigil for Christ’s glory in that Easter hope, may our doubting cease, may God’s silent, suffering people find deliverance and freedom from oppression, may his servants find peace, may he complete in us his perfect will.

And so, may all we think, say and so be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

‘Candlemas 2012’ (York Minster) by Susan Hufton … from the exhibition ‘Holy Writ’ at Lichfield Cathedral in 2014 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Luke 2: 22-40:

22 When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23 (as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord’), 24 and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’

25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

29 ‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
30 for my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’

33 And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’

36 There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, 37 then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. 38 At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

39 When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. 40 The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him.

The Presentation in the Temple … a fresco in Analipsi Church in Georgioupoli in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)

Liturgical Colour: White.

Bidding Prayer:

Dear friends, forty days ago we celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now we recall the day on which he was presented in the Temple, when he was offered to the Father and shown to his people.

As a sign of his coming among us, his mother was purified according to the custom of the time, and we now come to him for cleansing. In their old age Simeon and Anna recognised him as their Lord, as we today sing of his glory.

In this Eucharist, we celebrate both the joy of his coming and his searching judgement, looking back to the day of his birth and forward to the coming days of his passion.

So let us pray that we may know and share the light of Christ.

Penitential Kyries:

Lord God, mighty God,
you are the creator of the world.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

Lord Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary,
you are the Prince of Peace.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.

Holy Spirit,
by your power the Word was made flesh
and came to dwell among us.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

The Collect:

Almighty and everliving God,
clothed in majesty,
whose beloved Son was this day presented in the temple
in the substance of our mortal nature:
May we be presented to you with pure and clean hearts,
by your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

Introduction to the Peace:

In the tender mercy of our God
the dayspring from on high has broken upon us,
to give light to those who dwell in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace. (cf Luke 1: 78, 79)
(Common Worship, p. 306)

Preface:

And now we give you thanks
because, by appearing in the Temple,
he comes near to us in judgement;
the Word made flesh searches the hearts of all your people,
to bring to light the brightness of your splendour:
(Common Worship, p. 306)

Post-Communion Prayer:

God, for whom we wait,
you fulfilled the hopes of Simeon and Anna,
who lived to welcome the Messiah.
Complete in us your perfect will,
that in Christ we may see your salvation,
for he is Lord for ever and ever.

Blessing:

Christ the Son of God, born of Mary,
fill you with his grace
to trust his promises and obey his will:

The Presentation in the Temple, carved on a panel on a triptych in the Lady Chapel, Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford/Lichfield Gazette)

Suitable intercessions:

In peace let us pray to the Lord.

By the mystery of the Word made flesh
Good Lord, deliver us.

By the birth in time of the timeless Son of God
Good Lord, deliver us.

By the baptism of the Son of God in the river Jordan
Good Lord, deliver us.

For the kingdoms of this world,
that they may become the Kingdom of our Lord and Christ
We pray to you, O Lord.

For your holy, catholic and apostolic Church,
that it may be one
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the witness of your faithful people,
that they may be lights in the world
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the poor, the persecuted, the sick and all who suffer;
that they may be relieved and protected
We pray to you, O Lord.

For the aged, for refugees and all in danger,
that they may be strengthened and defended
We pray to you, O Lord.

For those who walk in darkness and in the shadow of death,
that they may come to your eternal light
We pray to you, O Lord.

Father, source of light and life,
Grant the prayers of your faithful people,
and fill the world with your glory, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Hymns:

52, Christ, whose glory fills the skies (CD 4)
119, Come, thou long-expected Jesus (CD 8)
691, Faithful vigil ended (CD 39)

‘Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace’ … a window in Saint Bartholomew’s Church, Ballsbridge, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org

Material from The Book of Common Prayer (the Church of Ireland, 2004) is copyright © Representative Body of the Church of Ireland 2004.

Material from Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England is copyright © The Archbishops’ Council 2000.

‘A light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel’ … a January sunrise at the Rectory in Askeaton, Co Limerick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Preaching and Celebrating,
Word and Sacrament:
Inseparable signs of the Church


Preaching and Celebrating,
Word and Sacrament:
Inseparable signs of the Church


Patrick Comerford

When my sons were young children, we often played a family game that demanded quick responses to either/or questions: Black or White? Cat or dog? Football or cricket? Paris or Rome? The questions might even be posed by them as challenges to their parents: Beatles or Rolling Stones? Mozart or Beethoven?

So often, it seems, we offer opposing rather than complementary choices, as if we have to choose one and reject the other. This happens in church life too, and to a sad degree it is prevalent throughout the Church of Ireland and across the Anglican Communion. It is a regular experience to hear parishes and incumbents trumpet that their emphasis in the life of the Church is on sacramental life, or on preaching the word, as though both were mutually exclusive.

I worked for some years with the Church Mission Society Ireland, and at an early stage was asked by one CMS supporter who seemed to be sceptical about my suitability for the position whether I was truly evangelical or in her words “just another liberal.” I replied, perhaps a little too quickly, or even too glibly, that I am evangelical in the pulpit, catholic at the altar, orthodox in respect to the creeds, radical in discipleship, and liberal in how I think the breadth and comprehensiveness of all these should be embraced in Anglicanism. Somehow, I think she is still perplexed at my response. Yet this comprehensiveness in Anglicanism is essential to its unity and characteristic of its beauty.

There should never be a conflict of interest between being a church of the word and a church of the sacrament, and this has been expressed in an inclusive and embracing way by the early Anglican Reformers in Article 19 (‘Of the Church’) of the Articles of Religion:

The visible Church of Christ is a congregation … in which the pure Word of God is preached and the Sacraments be duly administered according to Christ’s ordinance of all those things that of necessity are requisite to the same.[1]

Article 19 moves from the general church to the specific or local church, described in terms of diocesan structures, naming specifically the churches in Jerusalem, Alexandria, Antioch and Rome. The Latin phrase in the original, legal text is coetus fidelium (‘assembly of the faithful’).[2] Paul Avis argues that Article 19 refers not to a local or parish church but to the community of Word and Sacrament gathered together by the bishop, the diocese in which Word and Sacrament are administered and pastoral oversight is exercised, and that the word ‘congregation’ does not refer to a local or parish congregation.[3] Avis points out that coetus and congregation are synonyms that correspond to the Greek ἐκκλησία (ekklesia), the assembly of the people who are called out, the Church. In other words, in Anglican ecclesiology, the understanding of the Church is inextricably linked with how that is expressed in diocesan structures and seen in our preaching the word, celebrating the sacraments, and providing pastoral care.

However, Anglicans have often argued about this article. Some say it gives equal importance and priority to both Word and Sacrament, while others contend that Article 19 gives priority to the Word over the Sacrament. George Carey and David Samuel have written:

Article 19 says that “the visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in which the pure Word of God is preached” – this is the priority – “and the sacraments are duly administered according to the ordinance of Christ” – that is subordinate – the sacraments are adjuncts to the Word. The preaching of the Word has priority.[4]

Our priorities and our preferences for either Word over Sacrament or Sacrament over word are often reflected in church architecture. When I bring students on the Church History elective on field trips, I challenge them to look at a church building and to ask themselves about the theological liturgical priorities of the architects or those who commissioned a church.

In previous centuries, the first object seen by visitors to many parish churches in the Church of Ireland would have been a large triple-decker pulpit, towering above the reading desk and an almost indiscernible altar or communion table. But there were earlier exceptions. For example, the parish church in Collon, county Louth, is a pre-Pugin Gothic Revival church, built in 1811-1813 and designed by the Revd Daniel Augustus Beaufort as a miniature replica of the Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge. Instead of pews, the seating is arranged in collegiate style, so that the people face each other, and the first sight facing the visitor is through the centre of the nave to the altar or communion table at the east end of the church, uninterrupted by pews, pulpit or prayer desk.

When AWN Pugin, Gilbert Scott and George Frederick Bodley tilted the fashion in church building in both the Church of England and the Church of Ireland from the Classical or baroque style to the Gothic Revival, the focus and attention in many parish churches shifted radically from the Word, whether it was read from the lectern or preached from the pulpit, to the Sacrament as it was celebrated in the chancel area.

The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Donald Coggan, once recalled how as Archbishop of York he had been asked to rehallow a parish church after extensive restoration work and to preach. The main feature of the church after its restoration “was the altar, central and resplendent. There could be no doubt that the Church of England was a sacramental Church … There was one focus, you could not miss it.” But when Coggan asked where he was to preach from, he was told a little stand would be brought to him at the appropriate time. He commented:

A poor, paltry thing it was, liable to collapse if by chance I leaned upon it … This was to be the thing from which the everlasting gospel was to be proclaimed. As soon as the sermon was over it was taken away into oblivion. And good riddance too![5]

Coggan might have been equally uncomfortable had he seen, as I have at times in some churches, a piece of furniture that is little more than a hostess trolley wheeled out in some churches when it comes to the time for celebrating the Holy Communion, and wheeled back again as quickly as possible, placed against a side wall, used for serving coffee or for storing additional musical instruments that are surplus to the needs of those in the apse who have become the focus of liturgical attention. Coggan was not trying to place the preaching of the Word in opposition to the celebration of the Sacrament, but rather seeking to emphasise that they are complementary and inseparable in Anglicanism. When he was introduced to the architect, he recalled, he told him that Anglican ecclesiastical architecture should show that Anglicanism is what he called ‘bifocal’ in ‘its means of grace, the living God comes to us both in the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ and in the sacrament of the word …’

In recent experiences, I have attended celebrations of the Eucharist in both the Church of Ireland and the Church of England where there has been only one Scripture reading, and where the sermon fails to draw on that one reading. Invariably, when I question this practice, I am told that using the three appointed readings on a Sunday when the distribution and reception of Communion takes so much time would leave little time for the ‘ministry of the word’, a reference to the sermon. It appears, in these cases, the word in the sermon is more important than the word in Scripture, and the Sacrament gets in the way of both.

The dual emphasis in Article 19 and what Coggan describes as ‘bifocal Anglicanism’ are reflected in both the Ordinal in the Book of Common Prayer and in the service of institution of a new incumbent. In the Ordinal, the bishop prays that those being ordained may ‘proclaim boldly the word of salvation’ and ‘celebrate the sacraments of the new covenant’. He then presents the newly-ordained priest with a bible saying: ‘Receive this Book, as a sign of the authority which God has given you this day to preach the Word and to administer his holy sacraments.’ [6] In the traditional ordination service, now seldom used, the bishop instructs the ordinand: ‘And be thou a faithful dispenser of the Word of God, and of his holy Sacraments.’[7]

The ordination service moves to the celebration of the Eucharist, with the words of the Proper Preface: ‘Within the royal priesthood of your Church, you ordain ministers to proclaim your word, to care for your people and to celebrate the sacraments of the new covenant.’ [8] After the Great Silence, the bishop prays again:

Almighty God, you have chosen and ordained these your servants to be ministers and stewards of your word and sacraments and given them the will to understand these things: Give them also the strength to perform them, that they may complete that work which you have begun in them; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. [9]

At the service of institution approved for use by the Church of Ireland in 2007, a new incumbent is reminded by the bishop of ‘the solemn promises of your ordination’ and is charged ‘to minister in word and sacrament to [God’s] people.’ These charges are repeated when the new incumbent stands at the pulpit or lectern and is told by the bishop to be ‘faithful in preaching it so that the people may grow in godliness and understanding,’ and then when the rector stands ‘in the position normally occupied by the presiding minister during the Great Thanksgiving,’ and is told by the bishop: ‘Celebrate this joyful thanksgiving with God’s people that together you may be built up as the Body of Christ,’ or ‘take this bread and wine and be among us to break the break and to bless the cup, with reverence and with joy.’ [10]

For most parishes, it would be unimaginable to think of a main Sunday service without the proclamation of the Word in some form, usually a sermon. In some parishes, however, liturgical prioritising means the sermon can be so reduced to little more than a homily or exhortation. A.W. Tozer, Bishop Christopher Chavasse, Michael Green, John Stott and others are attributed with the aphorism that ‘Sermonettes produce Christianettes.’ But equally there has been a neglect of celebrating the Eucharist regularly on Sundays, although The Book of Common Prayer states clearly that the Holy Communion is celebrated in every cathedral and parish church on Sundays and the principal holy days ‘unless the ordinary [bishop] shall otherwise direct’. [11] Later, The Book of Common Prayer reminds us:

The Holy Communion is the central act of worship of the Church … It is the privilege and duty of members of the Church to join in public worship on the Lord’s Day as the weekly commemoration of Christ’s Resurrection, and on the principal holy days. Holy Communion is to be celebrated on the principal holy days as set out in the Calendar and regularly on Sundays and festivals … [12]

These ‘General Directions for Public Worship’ add: ‘A sermon or homily should be preached on Sundays and on principal holy days.’ [13]

As Harold Miller points out, whether we call this the Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper or the Eucharist, it is ‘not … simply a service of the sacrament,’ but is a ‘service of word, prayer and sacrament.’ Colin Buchanan has described it as ‘a Bible study followed by a prayer meeting followed by a meal’. [14]

Apostolic and Patristic Practice

In this, both Miller and Buchanan are deeply rooted in the New Testament and the first description we have of the worship patterns of the Apostolic Church immediately after Pentecost: ‘They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and prayers’ (Acts 2: 42). There is even, perhaps, a hint that this practice was not merely a Sunday-only observance but a daily occurrence: ‘Day by the day … they broke bread at home’ (Acts 2: 46).

It can hardly be argued that the early Eucharistic practice of the Apostolic Church was arcane and a ritual only for the Church, while proclaiming the word had a missionary intention alone. Both Word and Sacrament were evangelising in their scope and effect, for this description of the early Church in Jerusalem tells us that through this life expressed in teaching, fellowship, prayer and the Eucharist in Jerusalem that ‘day by day … they broke bread,’ and that ‘day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved’ (Acts 2: 46-47). There is no separation of Word and Sacrament – they come together in the one shared act of worship, and they both build up the Church and have a missionary impact together and not separately.

This practice continues in the Apostolic Church. When Saint Paul joins the Church leaders and his core group of followers in Troy, they meet on the first day of the week to break bread and he then preaches until midnight (Acts 20: 7-12). This is no “sermonette,” but its length provides no excuse for neglecting the Sunday sacramental celebration either. The New Testament understanding is that celebrations of the Eucharist should be often and not irregular. The earliest Eucharistic narrative in the New Testament is provided by Saint Paul, who reminds the Church in Corinth about the need to break the bread and drink the cup often. The word ὁσάκις, translated ‘for as often’ in the NRSV (see I Corinthians 11: 26), is also used by Homer in the Iliad and the Odyssey, and by other classical Greek writers, including Plato, Thucydides and Xenophon, in ways that imply a regularity and frequency that means whenever, regularly, or even every time. [15]

In Romans, Saint Paul links word and sacrament in the way he speaks in liturgical or priestly terms of his evangelising mission among the nations.[16] He frequently writes about the ‘mystery of the Gospel.’ The word μυστήριον (mysterion), which occurs 27 times in the New Testament, refers not only to the mystery of salvation (see Romans 16: 25-26; Ephesians 3: 3, 5) but also to the mystery of the unity of the Church (see Ephesians 3: 6; Colossians 1: 26-27, 4: 3), and of course to the sacramental life of the Church. When Saint Paul speaks about the mystery of the Gospel (see Ephesians 6: 19), we may delight in wrestling with the ambiguity of whether this is the mystery of salvation found in the crucified and risen Body of Christ, or the mystery of the unity of the Church as the Body of Christ, or the mystery or sacrament of the Eucharist in which we receive the Body of Christ.

Patristic writings show us that even in the Early Church, the great Fathers of the Church had not yet come to distinguish between dogma, Eucharistic liturgy, worship, morals, asceticism or mysticism. They treated the Christian religion as a whole, without posing a false dichotomy between Word and Sacrament. [17] There was a variety of preaching ministries in the Apostolic and post-Apostolic Church, with varying dimensions, including the homiletic, liturgical, exegetical and prophetic. These preaching ministries were exercised within a liturgical setting and also in missionary settings. Alistair Stewart-Sykes traces a development from prophecy to preaching in the need to communicate the Word of God ‘to believers within the Christian assembly.’ [18] In time, preaching in the liturgical context was modelled on both contemporary communications in the synagogue and Hellenistic philosophical pedagogy. Melito of Sardis, in a sermon around entitled On the Pascha, illustrates how preaching was increasingly influenced by contemporary Greek and Roman rhetoric.[19]

Gradually, teaching ministry is reserved to the teaching office of the bishop and to the priests as his delegates. As an agreed canon of Scripture emerges, preaching is increasingly linked with the reading of Scripture in the liturgical setting. In his First Apology (ca 150), Justin Martyr describes the integral part of preaching in the Sunday liturgy. After reading from the prophets or the Gospels, the presiding minister peaches about the relevance of the readings to those present, before going on to celebrate the Eucharist. [20] Irenaeus shows that in the pre-Nicene Church the bishop preached the sermon after the Scripture readings, before moving on to the Eucharistic prayer. [21]

In a sermon, Origen (ca 185-254) links reverence and regularity in reception of the Sacrament with reverence and regularity in receiving the Word when he says:

You are accustomed to take part in the divine mysteries, so you know how, when you have received the body of the Lord, you reverently exercise every care lest a particle of it fall, and lest anything of the consecrated gift perish... how is it that you think neglecting the word of God a lesser crime than neglecting his body? [22]

Origen speaks of the bread of the Word and the bread of the Eucharist, while Hilary of Poitiers (d. ca 368) speaks of the Table of the Lord’s Word and the Table of the Lord.

Mature preaching emerges and flourishes in the third and fourth centuries, with the conversion of Constantine creating the need to communicate moral instructions to increasing numbers of people. [23] By the fourth century, a sacramental and liturgical reflection on the sacramental mysteries for new Christians is a major theme in preaching, and a common theme among Patristic writers is the presence of God in the reading of Scripture and the preaching of the word of God. In the aftermath of the Council of Nicaea, the sermon continued to be a normal part of the liturgy, and preaching was the duty and privilege of the bishop. Sunday was the most regular day for preaching, although Saint Augustine also preached regularly on Saturdays, and sermons were preached every day during Lent, and there were several at Easter. [24]

For Thomas Carroll, the liturgical dimension of the preaching of Saint John Chrysostom (ca 349-407), later revered as the ‘patron of preachers,’ is best expressed in his understanding of the preacher as priest and preaching as the means of the priest’s sanctification. [25] Before he was ordained, John Chrysostom wrote On the Priesthood, in which he devotes two chapters to preaching. There he reminds future priests of ‘the great toil which is expended upon sermons delivered publicly to the congregation.’ For John Chrysostom, the preacher is always a priest, and preaching is always an exercise of that priesthood. Indeed, he is consumed with this sense of being ordained to preach, so that nothing, not even sickness, should prevent the exercise of this ministry:

Preaching improves me. When I begin to speak, weariness disappears; when I begin to teach, fatigue too disappears. Thus neither sickness itself nor indeed any other obstacle is able to separate me from your love … For just as you are hungry to listen to me, so too I am hungry to preach to you. My congregation is my only glory, and every one of you means more to me than anyone of the city outside. [26]

John Chrysostom preached every Sunday, on saints’ days and at several weekday services, and 800 of his sermons survive. He often began his sermons with a prayer that survives in the Anglican tradition as the Collect for Purity, which Thomas Cranmer places at the opening of the Holy Communion. [27]

Middle Ages

By the Middle Ages, however, scholastic theology, by and large, was not dealing with the relationship between preaching and sacrament, and as the emphasis shifted to liturgical and sacramental life, preaching was often placed in a separate category. Mediaeval preaching was permitted only with local episcopal authorisation, and took place largely outside the setting of the liturgy. Preaching was often an exercise in combatting heresy or – in a way that seems profane today – canvassing support for the Crusades; an infamous example of this is Bernard of Clairvaux ‘preaching up’ the Second Crusade. [28]

A change came with the foundation of the Dominicans or Order of Preachers in 1216, and then with the formation of the Franciscans. These friars were trained to preach in the languages of the people and in persuasive preaching, and this was generally outside a liturgical setting or context.

R.H. Fuller identifies a number of factors that contributed to the decline of liturgical preaching in the early Middle Ages, including mass conversions, the multiplication of masses said by priests, the decline in educational standards, and the Western development of the low mass, so that the sermon ceased to be a normal part of the liturgy. [29] Around the same time, sacramental participation was also diminished, with the people receiving Communion in the form of the bread alone and not in the wine. The forward-looking aspect of the Eucharist, anticipating the heavenly banquet, was lost in the new emphasis on the Eucharist as a memorial of the Last Supper and the Crucifixion.

However, we should not presume that the neglect of preaching was as widespread as is often alleged or presumed in Reformation polemics. As Eamon Duffy points out, the survival of 200 pre-Reformation pulpits in English parish churches, mostly from the 15th century, suggests otherwise. [30]

The Reformers responded to the liturgical and sacramental emphases in scholastic theology by developing a theology of the word of God. Luther and the Anglican reformers sought to re-establish a liturgical sermon, and from 1549, each version of the Book of Common Prayer included a rubric requiring a sermon or homily after the Creed. The rubric in 1549, expected that the sermon or homily might include an exhortation ‘to the worthy receiving of the holy Sacrament of the bodye and bloude of our savior Christ …’ [31] It was expected too that the Eucharist would be celebrated in the parish every Sunday and principal feast day, and that a sermon would be preached at each celebration.

However, the introduction of a Sunday sermon may have been slow in Anglicanism, for the number of pulpits in England surviving from the reign of Elizabeth I is small compared with those from the reigns of James I and Charles I, while Communion plate from the reign of Elizabeth I, especially chalices and patens, survives in abundance.[32] But the reformed theology of the word of God was often in danger of being reduced to a theology of preaching, leading to a new separation of Sacrament and Word, with an increased emphasis on preaching the word Sunday-by-Sunday and a reduced emphasis on the weekly celebration of the Sacrament. For example, Heinrich Bullinger asserted in the Second Helvetic Confession (1566): ‘The preaching of the word of God is the Word of God.’ Cumming argues that the reduction in the number and frequency of Sunday celebrations of the Eucharist among Anglicans is explained partly by the lingering reluctance of people who once previously had been present as mere spectators to receive the sacrament, combined with the belief that celebrations of Holy Communion were valid only if the elements were received. Lancelot Andrewes and others failed in their efforts to encourage more frequent celebration, to stress order and decency in worship and to place sacraments above preaching.[33]

By the 17th century, Morning Prayer with Sermon became the principal Sunday service, separating Word and Sacrament once more, although Puritans continued to refer to Holy Communion as ‘the Mass’ and to the Book of Common Prayer disparagingly as ‘mass-books.’ [34]

When Holy Communion was celebrated in parish churches, it customarily followed immediately after Morning Prayer, and so the breaking of the word and the breaking of the bread were separated even further. By the 18th century, worship in the Church of England had become more sermon centred, clearing the way for what Conrad Donakowski describes as the ‘rationalistic discourses favoured as centrepieces of the service during the Age of Reason.’[35] It is no wonder, then, that the Anglican liturgist Dom Gregory Dix would later comment wryly, ‘Listening to sermons, however excellent, is not a substitute for worship …’[36]

Reclaiming the weekly celebration

In response to this great separation, the liturgical revival that developed in Anglicanism in the 19th century often diminished the place of preaching in the liturgy.

The Liturgical Movement in the 20th century stimulated many traditions to reclaim the weekly celebration of the Eucharist as the principal act of worship on Sundays. With this recovery, the sermon once again was understood as an integral part of the liturgy in which the word of God read in Scripture is proclaimed and becomes part of the Great Thanksgiving.

In a series of reflections following the pattern of the Eucharistic liturgy, Geoffrey Howard recalls gabbled readings that concluded with ‘This is the Word of the Lord’ and an ill-prepared sermon, and he points out with sensitive humour:

The Eucharist is ministry of word and sacrament. We meet God in both. It takes faith to believe that we meet him in bread and wine, while it can take a suspension of the critical faculties to believe that he comes in gabbled readings and in the ramblings of preachers.[37]

Infrequent Sunday celebrations of the Eucharist, if ever, should be as rare as infrequent Sunday proclamations of the word. As Harold Miller points out with agility, there should be no celebration of the Eucharist, or the breaking of the bread, without also having a Sermon, or the breaking of the word.[38]

Proclamation must not be separated from the Eucharist, and the Eucharist must not be separated from proclamation, for the Eucharist is proclamation, liturgy is evangelistic, and worship has the power to convert.[39] As Andrew Davison and Alison Milbank express it, the Eucharist is the revolutionary act by which the saving truth of the Incarnation is proclaimed and in our liturgy we embody the Gospel, so that the words and gestures, the story and the liturgical practice combine in one faithful performance with an ethical edge.[40] Those who doubt or question whether the Eucharist is proclamation in its fullest sense might consider how singing songs about the Lamb on the Throne[41] can find fulfilment in holding the bread and wine of the Eucharist before the congregation and inviting them to Communion with the words: ‘Jesus Christ is the Lamb of God, who has taken away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.’ [42]

Both proclamation and the Eucharist invite us to encounter the living Christ who abandoned his heavenly throne and pitched his tent among us. As David Stancliffe has written:

If the Church is sign, instrument and foretaste of the Kingdom, worship is where those abstractions are – or ought to be – made visible. We ought to be able to say with confidence, ‘Share with us in the breaking of the bread and you will see Christ crucified among his people, forming them as his Body; and this feast will give you a glimpse of heaven. For it is in worship that what the Church believes and does is earthed and made visible.[43]

As Davison and Milbank point out, being in Christ is everything for Saint Paul, and this involves the Church. They cite Charles Gore, who argued that ‘the idea of faith in Jesus which does not seek admission into “the body” or disparages it even while it accepts it, does not even present itself to St Paul’s mind.’[44]

Communion without preaching emphasises community without the challenge of conversion. Preaching without Communion loses its ecclesial dimension and can emphasise individual salvation without an invitation to commitment and into community, to being part of the Body of Christ. The Eucharist makes the Church, rather than the Church making the Eucharist, and forcing us to make a choice between a priority for word over sacrament, or a preference for Sacrament over Word, creates a false paradox. The choice is not either/or; instead we must have both/and. We cannot be the Church without preaching the pure Word of God, neither can we be the Church without celebrating the sacraments.

Footnotes and references

1, GR Evans, JR Wright (eds), The Anglican Tradition, A Handbook of Sources (London: SPCK, 1991), p 235.
2, Ibid., pp 163-164. 3, See Paul Avis, The Anglican Understanding of the Church (London: SPCK, 2nd ed, 2013), pp 96-98.
4, David Samuel and George Carey, ‘The ARCIC Agreed Statements are not agreeable to Scripture and the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion,’ Churchman, 102/2 (1988), p 155. 5, Donald Coggan, A New Day for Preaching (London: SPCK, 1996), pp 4-5.
6, The Book of Common Prayer (Dublin: Columba Press for the Church of Ireland, 2004), pp 570-571, hereafter BCP 2004. In the Church of England, the words in Common Worship vary slightly: ‘Receive this Book, as a sign of the authority which God has you this day to preach the gospel of Christ and to minister his Holy Sacraments’ (Common Worship. See ‘Ordination Services’ on < https://www.churchofengland.org/prayer-worship/worship/texts/ordinal/priests.aspx > (Accessed 21 June 2017).
7, BCP 2004, p 537.
8, Ibid., p 572.
9, BCP 2004, p 572.
10, The text of the institution service is available at this link: < https://www.ireland.anglican.org/cmsfiles/files/worship/pdf/InstitutionHC.pdf > and the resolution that governed it is available here: < http://synodarchive.ireland.anglican.org/2006/docs/pdf/resolutions/Res2.pdf > (Accessed 26 June 2017).
11, BCP 2004, p 18.
12, Ibid., p 75.
13, Ibid., p 76.
14, Harold Miller, The Desire of our Soul (Dublin: Columba, 2004), p 113.
15, See Homer, Iliad (21.265; 22.194), Odyssey (11.585); Plato, Theaetetus 143a 1-5; Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian Wars, 7.18; Xenophon, Memorabilia, 3.4.3.
16, Geoffrey Wainwright, ‘Christian Worship: Scriptural Basis and Theological Framework,’ in G. Wainwright and K.B. Westerfield Tucker (eds), The Oxford History of Christian Worship (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), p 7.
17, Emilianos Timiadis, The Relevance of the Fathers (Brookline: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1994), pp 11, 17.
18, Wendy Mayer, ‘Homiletics,’ in SA Harvey and DG Hunter (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp 568-569.
19, See S.G. Hall (ed), Melito of Sardis. On Pascha and fragments (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), passim.
20, Justin Martyr, First Apology, Ch 67, 1913 < http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/anf01.viii.ii.lxvii.html >.
21, Irenaeus, Adv Haer, I.x.2.
22, Origen, Homilies on Exodus, 13.3.
23, Wendy Mayer, ‘Homiletics,’ in S.A. Harvey and D.G. Hunter (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp 568-569.
24, Éric Rebillard, ‘The West (2): North Africa,’ in S.A. Harvey and D.G. Hunter (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), p 316.
25, Thomas K. Carroll, Peaching the Word (Eugene OR: Wipf and Stock, 2008), p 107.
26, John Chrysostom, Hom Earthq, 15.
27, BCP 2004, p 201.
28, De Consideratione Libri Quinque, II, 1, in Patrologia Latina 182, 741-745, translated by James Brundage, The Crusades: A Documentary History (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 1962), 115-121.
29, R.H. Fuller, ‘Sermon,’ pp 484-485, in J.G. Davies (ed), A New Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship (London: SCM Press, 1986). 30, Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England 1400-1580 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press), p 698.
31, See Brian Cummings (ed), The Book of Common Prayer, The Texts of 1549, 1559 and 1662 (Oxford: Oxford University Press), p 23.
32, Bruce Cumming (2011), pp xxxviii, 729.
33, Bryan D Spinks, ‘Anglicans and Dissenters,’ in Geoffrey Wainwright and Karen B. Westerfield Tucker (eds), The Oxford History of Christian Worship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp 504-505.
34, See Arnold Hunt, ‘The Lord’s Supper in Early Modern England,’ Past and Present, 161 (1998), pp 39-83; Cumming, pp 768-769.
35, Conrad L. Donakowski, ‘The Age of Revolutions,’ in G Wainwright and K.B. Westerfield Tucker (eds), The Oxford History of Christian Worship (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), p. 364.
36 Simon Jones (ed), The Sacramental Life, Gregory Dix and his writings (London: Canterbury Press Norwich, 2007), p 17 (emphasis in the original).
37, Geoffrey Howard, Dare to Break Bread (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1992), p 25.
38, Harold Miller, The Desire of our Soul (Dublin: Columba, 2004), p 127.
39, See David Stancliffe, ‘Evangelism and Worship’ in Jeffrey John (ed), Living Evangelism (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1996), pp 26-27.
40, Andrew Davidson, Alison Milbank, For the Parish, a critique of Fresh Expressions (London: SCM Press, 2010), pp 222-223.
41, For example, see Thanks & Praise (London: Hymns Ancient and Modern, on behalf of the Church of Ireland, 2015), nos 4, 11, 12.
42, BCP 2004, p 219; see Stephen Cottrell, From the abundance of the heart (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2006), p 119.
43, David Stancliffe, ‘Evangelism and Worship’ in Jeffrey John (ed), Living Evangelism (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1996), p 25.
44, Andrew Davidson, Alison Milbank, For the Parish, a critique of Fresh Expressions (London: SCM Press, 2010), pp 56-57; see Charles Gore, St Paul’s Epistle to the Romans (London: John Murray, 1899), p 34.

Biographical note:

The Revd Canon Patrick Comerford has taught Liturgy, Anglicanism and Church History in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and is priest-in-charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group.

‘Preaching and Celebrating, Word and Sacrament: Inseparable signs of the Church’ was first published in Maurice Elliott & Patrick McGlinchey (eds), Perspectives on Preaching: a witness of the Irish Church (Dublin: Church of Ireland Publishing, 2017), 242 pp, ISBN 978-1-904884-59-0, pp 77-90.