Showing posts with label Affirming Catholicism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Affirming Catholicism. Show all posts

25 October 2023

‘Look for Jesus in the ragged,
… in the oppressed and …
wash their feet’: a notice on
Stony Stratford church door

‘Whosoever thou art that enterest this Chapel’ … the greeting at the church door in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2023)

Patrick Comerford

There is no choir practice in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church in Stony Stratford because of the half-term break. But there are two challenging notices on the church door that catch my full attention each time I go in or out of the church.

The notice greeting all who push open the door to enter the church tells parishioners and visitors alike: ‘Whosoever thou art that enterest this Chapel know that the Lord Jesus is here present in his Holy Sacrament, kneel then and adore him and pray for thyself, for those who minister and worship here – , nor forget the Souls of the faithful departed.’

The notice that greets everyone who leaves the church and who cares to read it, says: ‘You have adored Jesus in his Blessed Sacrament. Come out from before your Tabernacle and walk, with Christ mystically present in you, out into the streets … and find the same Jesus in the people (you meet). after Bishop Frank Weston of Zanzibar, Second Anglo-Catholic Congress, 1923.’

It is good to reminded constantly that the parish church has a vital role in empowering parishioners and visitors alike for Christian service and discipleship in the world outside. There must be a direct connect between liturgy and service of the people.

But the original words of Bishop Frank Weston (1871-1924) in his concluding address at the Anglo-Catholic Congress 100 years ago are more compelling and more demanding than anything that fit into a small notice on a church door.

Bishop Frank Weston’s words on the door out of Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2023)

Many years ago [30 June 2011], I was the speaker at a conference organised by Affirming Catholicism on the theme: ‘Thy Kingdom Come! Prayer and Mission in the building of The Kingdom.’ The one-day conference was held in Saint Matthew’s Church, Westminster, close to the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Church House, and I stayed in the Clergy House beside the church, gently conscious of the chimes of Big Ben throughout that night.

Saint Matthew’s was built as a memorial to mark Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, and was designed by Sir George Gilbert Scott’s son, John Oldrid Scott. The church is in one of the poorer districts of the Borough of Westminster, surrounded by social housing funded by the Peabody Trust, and from its earliest days the church has been closely associated with the recovery of the Catholic heritage of the Church of England.

In the mid-19th century, the people in the area around Great Peter Street lived in abject conditions, and Charles Dickens once described the area notoriously as the ‘Devil’s Acre.’ It is said a house in Old Pye Street was used to teach and train pickpockets, and In 1855 a lodging house in the area was said to have been home to 120 people. It is most likely that this is the area that inspired Dickens as he wrote about Fagin and Oliver Twist.

One description of the area noted: ‘It is in these narrow streets, and in these close and insalubrious lanes, courts and alleys, where squalid misery and poverty struggles with filth and wretchedness, where vice reigns unchecked and in the atmosphere of which diseases are generated and diffused.’

The Church responded to these squalid problems by building four new churches in this part of Westminster, and in 1844 the Dean and Chapter of Westminster Abbey gave £1,000 towards building Saint Matthew’s, Westminster. The foundation stone was laid on 8 November 1849, and the church was consecrated on 30 June 1851.

The Clergy House and Saint Matthew’s Church, Westminster ... an integral part of mission in this inner-city area for more than 170 years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The first vicar of Saint Matthew’s, the Revd Richard Malone, faced a major challenge in his missionary work. It is indicative of his work that the first person he baptised was not a child, but William Brown, a mature 27-year-old and the adult son of a harness maker.

Gonville ffrench-Beytagh – who has been one of my inspirations in ministry and mission since I first encountered his story in 1971 when he was Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg – was a curate in Saint Matthew’s for a short period 50 years ago, from 1973 to 1974, after he was forced into exile from South Africa.

Another former curate there, from 1896 to 1898, was Frank Weston, whose quote faces me each time as I open the door to leave Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church in Stony Stratford. Frank Weston was of the foremost leaders of the Anglo-Catholic movement and a model ‘slum priest’. He taught daily in the Church School and in Catechism classes on Sunday afternoons. In March 1898, he wrote: ‘I have in tow about twenty young ruffians, mostly immoral little pagans, only four communicants.’

Despite the poor social conditions in the parish, according to his biographer, Frank Weston reported that this was ‘a parish where all was at peace and everything went on as if by clockwork. The services in the church and meals in the Clergy House could alike be depended on, but the first were elaborate and the others were not!’

After two years at Saint Matthew’s, Frank Weston was called to missionary work in Africa. Eventually, he became the Bishop of Zanzibar in 1908. His combination of incarnational and sacramental theology with radical social concerns formed the keynote of his concluding address to the second Anglo-Catholic Congress in 1923. He believed that the sacramental focus gave a reality to Christ’s presence and power that nothing else could. ‘The one thing England needs to learn is that Christ is in and amid matter, God in flesh, God in sacrament.’

And so he concluded: ‘But I say to you, and I say it with all the earnestness that I have, if you are prepared to fight for the right of adoring Jesus in His Blessed Sacrament, then, when you come out from before your tabernacles, you must walk with Christ, mystically present in you through the streets of this country, and find the same Christ in the peoples of your cities and villages. You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle, if you do not pity Jesus in the slum … It is folly – it is madness – to suppose that you can worship Jesus in the Sacraments and Jesus on the throne of glory, when you are sweating him in the souls and bodies of his children.’

And he concluded: ‘You have got your Mass, you have got your Altar, you have begun to get your Tabernacle. Now go out into the highways and hedges where not even the Bishops will try to hinder you. Go out and look for Jesus in the ragged, in the naked, in the oppressed and sweated, in those who have lost hope, in those who are struggling to make good. Look for Jesus. And when you see him, gird yourselves with his towel and try to wash their feet.’

My friend and colleague, the Revd Canon Professor Mark Chapman, is Vice-Principal of Ripon College Cuddesdon and Professor of the History of Modern Theology in the University of Oxford. He was speaking at the same conference and told me these words were written by Bishop Frank Weston as he stayed once again in Saint Matthew’s as he prepared for that conference in 1923. He died a year later, on All Souls’ Day, 2 November 1924.

They were appropriate words to recall as I spoke at that Affirming Catholicism conference in Saint Matthew’s on: ‘Prayer, mission and building the kingdom: the work of USPG.’ And they are appropriate words to be reminded of each time I go in and out of Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church in Stony Stratford.

The memorial in Saint Matthew’s Church, Westminster, to the former curate, Bishop Frank Weston (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

19 November 2016

Love at the heart of Orthodox
spirituality today

Inside a Greek Orthodox Church in Rethymnon, Crete … in the Orthodox Liturgy the priest introduces the Creed with the words: ‘Let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2016)

Patrick Comerford

Affirming Catholicism Ireland,

Annual General Meeting,

Saint Andrew’s Church, Malahide, Co Dublin

2 p.m., 19 November 2016.


In recent years I have not only dipped my toes in Orthodox spirituality, but at times it feels as though I have become fully immersed in Orthodox spirituality.

I have visited a number of Orthodox monasteries this year, in both Greece and England, in the past I have stayed on Mount Athos and Mount Sinai and visited monasteries and foundations in Greece, Cyprus, Egypt, Romania, Palestine, and other parts of the Orthodox world, and for many years now I have been studying patristics at the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies in Cambridge.

But I am always surprised that people how people respond to Orthodoxy. For most observers, their response is to comment on the phenomena rather than the spirituality of Orthodox.

Could I summarise these responses as falling into these categories:

1, The beauty, in sound and appearance, of the Liturgy. This response tends to from the observer’s perspective rather than one of a participant. Even priests I know comment on the beauty – or on the length – of the Liturgy, but they seldom comment to me about what they have seen in terms of how to affirms or challenges their own liturgical practices.

2, The beauty of Orthodoxy expressed in the interior beauty of churches with their frescoes and icons, or icons alone. I notice that few Western Christians appreciate or understand why church interiors are decorated in a particular style or fashion, what the theological and liturgical understandings are that underlies how an Orthodox church is decorated. And, while many people decorate their churches or homes with icons, they are often reduced to pretty trinkets and decorative items, rather than a full understanding of their meaning and significance.

3, Some people who seek a fuller and deeper understanding of Orthodoxy begin the practice of the Jesus Prayer – Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me the Sinner. But quite often this goes no further than a spiritual exercise, seldom becoming a spiritual discipline, and never becoming an invitation to a deeper engagement with Orthodox spirituality.

If I were to ask you about Orthodox theology, some of you may be able to say there are some differences about the filioque, but beyond that, and beyond knowing that there is a beauty that we have yet to fathom in Orthodox spirituality, there is very little real engagement with Orthodox spirituality in the West today.

For me, and what I want to share this afternoon, there is one theme at the heart of Orthodox Spirituality, and it is one that I hope is increasingly feeding into my practice as a priest, in my self-understanding at the Liturgy, in my preaching, and in my pastoral practice.

And that one theme is simply: Love.

Perhaps for Anglicans in this part of the world, the best-known Orthodox theologian writing in English is Metropolitan Kallistos Ware. Some years ago, at a lecture in Cambridge [7 July 2009], I heard him speak about ‘The Holy Trinity: model of mutual love.’

The Holy Trinity is the model of mutual love, and the fountain and source of love, Metropolitan Kallistos said. He recalled how Richard of St Victor (d. ca 1173), in De Trinitatia, quotes from I John 4: 8, ‘God is Love,’ and goes on to say that love expresses the perfection of divine nature. Self-love, love of one, turned inwards, is not the fullness of love. Love in its true form implies the presence of another. Love only exists in its fullness when it is mutual. The perfection of one person requires fellowship with another. Nothing is more glorious than to wish to have nothing that you do not share.

Love exists where there is a plurality of persons, said Metropolitan Kallistos. If God is love, God cannot be one person loving himself, and the circle of two persons can be closed and exclusive. Love should not only be mutual, it should be shared.

So let me begin by playing a piece of Orthodox music, recoded in the Greek Orthodox Cathedral in London in 1996. It is Liubov sviataya or ‘Sacred Love,’ from three choruses written by Georgy Sviridov as incidental music for Alexis Tolstoy’s Tsar Feodor Ioannovich.

The words, sung by soprano Sarah Blood with the Holst Singers, translate:

Sacred Love,
Thou, O sacred love, from the start art thou persecuted,
watered with blood, Thou, O sacred love!


The command to love, to love God and to love our neighbour, is at the heart of the Gospel. It is summarised in the two great commandments in Matthew 22: 36-40 and Luke 10: 27 (see Leviticus 19: 18). In Matthew alone, Christ says, ‘On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.’

But in Saint John’s Gospel, Christ says there is only one commandment: ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you’ (John 15: 12).

Saint Paul too, on more than one occasion, reduces it all down to one great commandment:

Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments … are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law (Romans 13: 8-10).

And again:

For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (Galatians 5: 14).

In other places, he writes:

The only thing that counts is faith working through love (Galatians 5: 6).

Or:

Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in harmony (Colossians 3: 14).

And:

If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, and compassion and sympathy. Make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind (Philippians 2: 1-2).

It is an emphasis that is also found in the Johannine letters:

The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also (I John 4: 16, 20-21).

I said that for me this one theme of love is the heart of Orthodox Spirituality, and how I hope is increasingly feeding into my practice as a priest, in my self-understanding at the Liturgy, in my preaching, and in my pastoral practice.

So let me explain why as a priest I begin with the Liturgy, and explore how this link is being made by some contemporary Orthodox theologians.

Father Sergeii Nikolaevich Bulgakov (1871-1944) was one of the great Russian intellectuals forced into exile by Trotsky in the 1920s, and he became involved with the Russian émigré theologians in Paris. Professor Andrew Louth of Durham University has compared his work with the theological approaches found in the thinking of Hans Urs von Balthasar in Love Alone: the Way of Revelation (1968).

Bulgakov, in one place, dwells on the link between dogma and prayer, both personal and liturgical, and comments: ‘That is why the altar and the theologian’s cell – his workspace – must be conjoined. The deepest origins of the theologian’s inspiration must come from the altar.’

Bulgakov understands the person as shaped by love, and he asks:

‘And who is this God before whom we stand in prayer? Not the divine substance, not some indifferentiated divine monad or God, but God the Father, revealing himself and his love for us through the Son and the Holy Spirit, and drawing from us an answering love, that is the Spirit poured out in our hearts, leading us back to the Father through the Son.’

Professor Dumitru Stăniloae (1903-1993), the leading Romanian Orthodox theologian of the 20th century, brought together dogmatic theology and liturgical theology in a unique way for Orthodox theologians. He discussed the life and the love of the Trinity as the Liturgy of the Trinity, and he defined the Eucharistic Syntax as ‘the Kingdom of the Holy Trinity, the intimate godly home that comprises all.’

The Anaphora or Eucharistic prayer of Saint John Chrysostom makes clear that our engagement with the Father takes place through the Son and the Spirit – the Son, given as the love of God the Father for us, accomplishing the mystery of salvation through the Incarnation, of which the Eucharist is the representation, itself achieved through the invocation, the epiklesis, of the Holy Spirit. As Christ becomes present, heaven and earth are conjoined.

I am moved then, as a theologian and priest, when I hear in the Orthodox Liturgy how the priest introduces the Creed with the words: ‘Let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess.’ In other words, our statement of belief, in ‘Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Trinity consubstantial and undivided,’ is confirmed, realised and lived out in our love for one another.

To love our neighbour as ourselves means to love them as we are ourselves, as being of the same substance – created in the image and likeness of God. The Church Fathers teach that we find our true self in loving our neighbour, and that love is not a feeling but an action.

Bulgakov was a contemporary of the martyred Russian Orthodox theologian and philosopher Pavel Florensky (1882-1937). At the annual conference of the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies in Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, this summer [29 August 2016], Dr Christoph Schneider, the Academic Director of IOCS, explained how love is at the heart of Florenksy’s thinking.

Florensky explains that ‘to love visible creatures is to allow the received Divine energy to reveal itself – through the receiver, outside and around the receiver – in the same way that it acts in the Trihypostatic Divinity itself. It is to allow the energy to go over to another, to a brother. For merely human efforts, love for a brother is absolutely impossible’ (The Pillar and Ground of the Truth).

With Father Nikolai Sakharov in the Monastery of Saint John, Tolleshunt Knights, Essex

Recently, I have been reading or re-reading two books that deal with love as an important theme in Orthodox theology and practice. Some years ago, I came across I love therefore I am, by Father Nicholas V Sakharov (Crestwood NY: Saint Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2002); and more recently I am reading Father Andrew Louth’s Modern Orthodox Thinkers (London: SPCK, 2015), which I am using at the moment for my end-of-day devotions and reflections.

In Father Andrew Louth’s book, love is an all-pervading theme in the writings of each of the 20th century theologians he portrays. If you are tempted to think of the Orthodox tradition being dominated by priests or by men only, then he provides surprising insights into the writings and work of many women as theologians and as spiritual guides.

Saint Maria of Paris, or Mother Maria Skobotska (1891-1945), died in a gas chamber in the concentration camp in Ravensbruck during the Holocaust, when she took the place of another prisoner. She has been glorified as a saint in the Orthodox Church (2004) and her name has been inscribed among the ‘Righteous Among the Nations’ in Yad Vashem in Jerusalem.

Her death seems to have an inevitability about it for someone who once said, ‘There should be nothing so sacred or valuable that would not be ready to give it up in the name of Christ's love to those who have need of.’

She was deeply influenced by the lectures she attended by Father Sergeii Bulgakov and Father Georges Florensky in exile in Paris. Father Andrew summarises her as saying that it is all too easy to sidestep the demands of love, to seem to be loving, when really love itself has been set aside, or turned into a means to an end. This is avoided by realising the complementarity of the two commands to love.

Mother Maria says there are two ways of loving to be avoided: one which subordinates love of our fellow humans to love of God, so that humans become means whereby we ascend to God, and the other of which forgets love of God, and so loves our fellow humans in a merely human way, not discerning in them the image of God, or the ways in which it has been damaged or distorted.

Father Nicholas Sakharov is a monk in Tolleshunt Knights, the monastery founded by his great uncle, the saintly Father Sophrony.

Father Sophrony was born Sergei Symeonovich Sakharov (1896-1993) in Moscow and lived in Paris and was a monk on Mount Athos before founding the monastery of Saint John the Baptist in the former rectory at Tolleshunt Knights in Essex in 1959.

Father Sophrony talks in La Félicité (p 21) about ‘the absolute perfection of love in the bosom of the Trinity’ and he says: ‘Embracing the whole world in prayerful love, the persona achieves ad intra all that exists.’

During a visit to the monastery some years ago, I was privileged to hear one of the nuns there, Sister Magdalen, speak of a universal love that is all-embracing, including God and all his creation. That is what it means to be a human person … to love as the love that is in the Holy Trinity.

She said the ascetic effort is not selfish or about purifying myself, but is directed towards love. Salvation involves accepting the divine gift of love in its fullness. Prayer is a mirror of the monk’s love of God.

Sister Magdalen spoke of Father Sophrony’s understanding of four types of love, which bears comparison with CS Lewis’s thinking in this area: eros (ἔρως), which he said should be exclusively confined to a man and woman in marriage; affection (storge, στοργή), which cannot be universal; friendship (philia, φιλία), which cannot be shared with everyone; and agape (ἀγάπη), which is unlimited. He believed the other three forms of love needed a ‘good dose’ of agape in order not to become destructively exclusive.

Relating love and prayer in the monastic life, she quoted Saint John Klimakos who said: ‘Love is greater than prayer, because prayer is a particular virtue, but love embraces all the virtues.’

The tomb of Father Sophrony in the crypt in Saint John’s Monastery in Tolleshunt Knights (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The link between this emphasis on Love that I find at the heart of Orthodox spirituality and that I find at the heart of the writings of the Caroline Divines is provided, perhaps, by Mother Thekla (1918-2011), who was born Marina Sharf into a family of Jewish descent in Kislovodsk, the same town Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was born. She graduated at Cambridge in 1940, and later worked with RAF Intelligence and the Ministry of Education before becoming Head of English at Kettering High School.

She became a nun after visiting the Anglican Benedictine Abbey of West Malling. As a nun she wrote extensively on George Herbert and other English poets, and became the inspiration for many works by the composer Sir John Tavener, but while she spent much of her later years in Anglican convents she remained an Orthodox nun. Father Andrew Louth described her life as ‘Orthodoxy in English dress.’

Writing on the poetry of George Herbert, she says: ‘The positive recognition of the love of God, of Christ’s redeeming action as that of Incarnate Love, inevitably leads out of any dark apprehension of passive redemption into the light of received and free reciprocal activity. Incomprehensible passivity to an arbitrary dispensation of Grace can now be interpreted as participation in love.’

And she says:

‘The Mystery of Love is inalienable and inexorable in its powerful demand of its activity. The Mystery of Love claims our practical life of spirituality not on a foundation of fear, nor of mute hope, nor of dependence on the Church, but on the explicit promise of the Mystery of human love going forward, in total trust, into the Mystery of the Divine Love. Disciplinary fear is replaced by the far more potent, inescapable experience of facing Love. Sin becomes, already in this world, the agony of hell, for it can not bear the confrontation with Love. Repentance takes on another meaning, and, so too, daily morality is drawn into its transcendent rather than social dimension. Death too is seen with different eyes. And, as long as we live, life is re-oriented. In fact, theology faced with the Love of the Person of Christ, becomes a practical spirituality.’

As Father Andrew Louth says, ‘her discussion of Herbert shows how it may be possible to go deeper, to go beyond the limitations of Western Christian controversy, and recover the reality of facing the Love of the Incarnate Christ, which is truly Orthodox, truly Christian.’

Which is why it has been a pleasure to introduce this concept this afternoon.

Further reading:

Mary B Cunningham and Elizabeth Theokritoff (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008).
Father Andrew Louth, Modern Orthodox Thinkers (London: SPCK, 2015).

Father Nicholas V Sakharov, I love therefore I am (Crestwood NY: Saint Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2002).
(Metropolitan) John D Zizioulas, Being as Communion (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1985).

(The Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is a lecturer in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute.

04 October 2016

The Eucharist: an introduction
for the Dearmer Society

‘... to preside in the very deed that so expands the life of creatures is a function of unquestionable beauty and dignity,’ according to Robert Hovda

Patrick Comerford,

The Dearmer Society,

4 October 2016


Opening Prayer

The Lord be with you
and also with you.

Today [4 October] is the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, Friar, Deacon and Founder of the Friars Minor (1226). The Collect in Common Worship (the Church of England) prays in these words:

O God, you ever delight to reveal yourself
to the childlike and lowly of heart:
grant that, following the example of the blessed Francis,
we may count the wisdom of this world as foolishness
and know only Jesus Christ and him crucified,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.


Introduction

During our training, preparation and placements, many of us are filled with a natural human anxiety, worrying about the first time we stand at the Altar, before a congregation, about to celebrate or preside at the Eucharist. So much so, that we may be in danger of forgetting that we too are present among the congregation, to be enriched and fed spiritually as we meet Christ, present in Word and Sacrament.

We all know what it is to ask: ‘Will I get it all right when it comes to my turn?’

This evening, we have an opportunity, instead, to ask not about ourselves, but about the Eucharist or the Lord’s Supper itself. This evening, we ask not ‘What am I doing?’

Rather, we ask: ‘What are we doing together?’

And we ask: ‘What is Christ doing with me, with us?’

But there are other questions and dialogues too.

At one level, there is the simple dialogue about the language and vocabulary we use. Do we call this [pointing] an altar or a table?

At the epiclesis, who re we invoking the Holy Spirit on: on the offering of bread and wine? On those present? On the Church? On all three?

These questions of language and vocabulary are often cultural rather than theological, delimiting or setting out our tribal boundaries and barriers rather than discussing central theological truths.

But there two other languages that we may want to discuss this evening too.

The first is body language.

Non-verbal communications include facial expressions, the tone and pitch of the voice, gestures displayed through body language (kinesics) and the physical distance between the communicators (proxemics).

These non-verbal signals can give clues and additional information and meaning over and above the spoken or verbal communication.

Professor Albert Mehrabian of UCLA came up with the now famous – and famously misused – rule that verbal communication is only 7 per cent verbal and 93 per cent non-verbal. The non-verbal component was made up of body language (55 per cent) and tone of voice (38 per cent).

So how I process into a church, how I stand at the altar, how I stand at the Creed, how I use my hands, whether I lift up the bread and wine, whether I lift up my eyes … all those nonverbal forms of communication are important for the person who is celebrating or presiding at the Eucharist.

Part of this too is how I use space, how we use colour, where we sit, how we use the presidential space, how I treat the sacred elements and the sacred vessels, what we place or do not place on the altar, how we treat the remaining sacred elements and sacred vessels after all have received the Sacrament.

But none of this, of course, gets us away from how we use the words of the Liturgy too: the parts I delete, and the parts I interpolate or add in …

The second is a language that has come into play in recent years.

This is the discussion about form and content. In the debate about Fresh Expressions, Andrew Davison and Alison Milbank argue coherently that in losing the form of liturgy we are in danger of losing the vehicle by which we convey the tradition, that we are in danger of losing the content.

If we stop seeing the Church as being the Church of Word and Sacrament, and then reduce the Word to how we promote our own interpretation of what we decide is ‘the Gospel message,’ then we become one more discussion forum and stop being Church.

Simon Reynolds has also introduced a discussion about the way Liturgy is often reduced to what passes for worship, but the content of this worship is often determined by its entertainment value.

Language and vocabulary

The Eucharist is the great thanksgiving – eucharistia (εὐχαριστία) – for the great goodness of God. Whether we call this ‘The Eucharist,’ ‘The Holy Communion,’ ‘The Sacrament,’ or ‘The Lord’s Supper,’ this is the central act of Christian worship where Christ encounters and feeds his faithful ones.

As the first of the General Directions for Public Worship in The Book of Common Prayer, and as Bishop Harold Miller says, ‘The Holy Communion is the central act of worship in the church.’ Bishop Miller says it is the most normative and complete act of Sunday worship. He says: ‘The Holy Communion gives us a window into all that is most vital in our regular worship.’

As we have it, this service is not simply the Lord’s Supper, the Holy Communion, or the Eucharist. It is a combination of both a Liturgy of the Word, a Prayer Service, and a Liturgy of the Sacrament.

The President’s Role at the Eucharist is defined at six specific points:

1, The Opening Greeting;
2, The Collect of the Day;
3, The Absolution;
4, introducing the Peace;
5, praying the Eucharistic Prayer;
6, the Dismissal.

The Gathering of God’s People

So as we are gather the candles are lit, and the altar is prepared for our celebration. It is covered with a fair linen cloth (see The Book of Common Prayer, p 77). On this, in the centre, we place the corporal, a square white cloth. On this stand the chalices and the paten, covered by a burse and veil in the appropriate liturgical colour.

In addition, there are two purificators for the administration of the chalices. The pocket of the burse has the chalice corporal inside it, with the pocket facing where the presiding priest is going to stand for the Eucharistic Prayer. This chalice corporal is used to cover the communion vessels after we have all received.

The Greek work ἐκκλησία (ekklesía), which we translate as ‘Church,’ refers to the gathering of the people, the calling out of the world and into the assembly.

Before the arrival of the priest, the congregation gathers. We are there first and foremost as the gathered or assembled church, believers. Others may be guests, and welcomed guests, but it is not a secular gathering, on the one hand; nor, on the other hand, is it a meeting for evangelism. The presumption first and foremost is that those present are baptised believers.

We meet in his name, and we do as he commanded us.

We meet not as a collection of neighbours, or as a collection of individual Christians, but as the One Body of Christ, and in the power of the Spirit. The liturgy is essentially what we do – it is truly our ‘Common Prayer.’

Green is the liturgical colour for ‘Ordinary Time’

The candles are lit, the lectern is dressed in the liturgical colours of the season: which is green in Ordinary Time, including this time from the day after Pentecost and the beginning of Advent.

In the vestry or sacristy, the priest may say prayers such as the familiar third collect at Morning Prayer:

Go before us, Lord, in all our doings, with your most gracious favour,
and further us with your continual help;
that in all our works begun, continued and ended in you,
we may glorify your holy name,
and finally by your mercy attain everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


The memory of the silent prayers said by the priest before presiding or celebrating is retained in Holy Communion 1 in The Book of Common Prayer, where it says ‘The priest stands at the Lord’s Table. The people kneel.’ And then the priest prays the Lord’s Prayer – without the doxology – alone.

We too should be silent as we gather our thoughts, our minds, ourselves as we prepare to celebrate.

In common language, we normally use the words ‘celebration,’ ‘celebrating’ and ‘celebrant’ for the person presiding at the Eucharist or the Holy Communion.

But when we celebtate, we are all celebrating, celebrating together; we are all co-celebrants, and the person who presides is the one who seeks to bring it alive, to animate what is happening, to see that it truly is the liturgy, the work of the people, and not something we are present at as spectators.

As the people gather, the many come together to be one body.

We are social and sociable. We chat with one another.

But we are not collected individuals, and small groups of twos or threes.

We are gather together as one people.

The priest who is presiding is the last to enter, and we stand – in silence or singing a hymn – ready to be gathered together as one body, and the priest joins us before the altar or table.

Our worship does not open or begin with the processional hymn. It opens or begins when we are gathered together as one body when the presiding priest stands at the president’s chair and calls us together in the opening liturgical greeting.

The liturgical greeting is not the same as Good Morning. And it establishes who is presiding, the presidency, so it should not be left to a Reader or an assistant.

The opening greeting is:

The Lord be with you
and also with you.

Although from Easter Day until the Day of Pentecost, for example, it varies from this.

A sentence of scripture may be read, and the presiding minister may introduce the liturgy of the day.

As The Book of Common Prayer reminds us (p. 18): ‘All Sundays celebrate the paschal mystery of the death and resurrection of Christ … On these days it is fitting that the Holy Communion be celebrated in every cathedral and … church …’

Christ is present among us in so many ways: in word, in sacrament, and in the gathered Body of Christ. And so, in awe and reverence, we draw our hearts and minds together and prepare to enter fully into worship, praying the Collect for Purity.

This prayer comes to us as an inheritance of Sarum Use, and was so loved that it has survived in The Book of Common Prayer ever since 1549.

Almighty God,
to whom all hearts are open,
all desires known,
and from whom no secrets are hidden;
Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts
by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit,
that we may perfectly love you,
and worthily magnify your holy name;
through Christ our Lord. Amen
.

Penitence as part of the gathering of the people has been an integral part of Anglican liturgy since 1556. The Confession is introduced with appropriate words, such as:

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son Jesus Christ, to save us from our sins, to intercede for us in heaven, and to bring us to eternal life.

Let us then confess our sins in penitence and faith,
firmly resolved to keep God’s commandments
and to live in love and peace:


Then there is silence to think about this.

We might then use the traditional words of confession, that begins with the words, ‘Almighty God, our heavenly Father …,’ or, use seasonal Penitential Kyries. The Kyrie responses are a Trinitarian acclamation and among the oldest prayers in the Church. In their Greek form they are the oldest surviving Greek prayers in the Western church:

Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.

We are then assured of God’s forgiveness as the priest pronounces the absolution:

Almighty God,
who forgives all who truly repent, have mercy on you,
pardon and deliver you from all your sins,
confirm and strengthen you in all goodness,
and keep you in eternal life,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


The canticle Gloria in Excelsis may be omitted in Advent and Lent and on weekdays that are not holy days. In Holy Communion 1, the canticle Gloria comes after receiving Communion. Its present place restores Gloria to its place in 1549. We have been forgiven, then – like the angels and shepherds – we can give Glory to God who comes among us.

When we use Gloria, we should use it joyfully, it is full of images that children love. Resonances of its words can be found in some form in almost all Christmas carols, for example, and children delight in its images, its words and its pictures.

Then comes the Collect. Once the meaning of a collect has been explained, people rarely forget, because we all know what is to ask for our basic needs to be met. That is natural … I need, I need, I need, I feed, I feed, I feed … therefore I am? A collect is literally a collection of all the intentions and favours we seek, for the Church, for ourselves, for the world.

We are all asking for something … and we should give people time to think of what they need before praying the Collect of the Day.

In our worship, the Church of Ireland seeks a balance between Word and Sacrament. Both are important places for Christ being made present for us, for us presenting ourselves before Christ.

Colin Buchanan has summarised the Eucharist as ‘A Bible study, followed by a prayer meeting, followed by a meal.’ And so, Proclaiming and Receiving the Word is not preliminary to, or preparation for the Eucharist. It is both proclaiming and receiving. It is an essential part, an indispensable element of every celebration.

Properly, the full Word of God should be proclaimed … Old Testament, Psalm or Biblical Canticle, New Testament and Gospel. Otherwise, we have to ask, are we saying the Old Testament has lost its validity or – even worse – suggesting the God of the Old Testament is not quite the same as the God of the New Testament?

The doxology, ‘Glory to the Father ...’ may be omitted at the end of Psalm in the Eucharist, for the Psalms are valid Biblical prayers without having to be ‘Christianised,’ and on Sundays we have given our glory to God in singing Gloria. It is traditional to omit to doxology at the end of the Psalms during Lent and Advent.

After the New Testament reading, we often sing a canticle, psalm, hymn, anthem or acclamation as a gradual before proclaiming and receiving the Gospel. And that leaves us standing to receive the Word of God, facing the Gospel, which is best proclaimed and received, not from the table or the altar but among the people.

If the Gospel reader marks three Crosses on the forehead, lips, and heart, all that is being said is simply: ‘Please help me to love your word with my mind, keep it on my lips, and hold it in my heart.’

The Word is not just proclaimed but is received, and we must take it for granted that at every celebration of the Eucharist there is an exposition of the Word, so people can receive it, so we can own it, so we can integrate it into our faith.

And the Liturgy of the Word then naturally reaches its climax when we share in the common confession of the faith of the universal Church, the Nicene Creed. We may use other creeds in other forms of worship, but The Book of Common Prayer insists on the Nicene Creed alone in the Eucharist, and on Sundays and Principal Holy Days.

The Prayers of the People

The intercessions normally include: prayers for: the universal Church; the nations of the world; the local community; those in need; and remembrance of, and thanksgiving for, the faithful departed.

But each petition should be brief, and we should avoid making intercessions appear like a series of collects. They should be addressed directly to God, and not to the people – this is not the place for another sermon.

But bear in mind, firstly, that these are the prayers of the people, not of the priest, and secondly, that you do not need to pray for all things at all services. Brevity and simplicity are important, corporate silence is important, and we should not hijack the prayers of others, the piety of others, and we should not displace the importance of the Great Thanksgiving, for the Eucharist itself is the Thanksgiving par excellence, and this should never be obscured by the content of the intercessions.

Lord, in your mercy:
hear our prayer.

The Peace

We have been gathered together, we have heard God’s word together, we have found we share the same faith, we have prayed together. To draw on Colin Buchanan’s imagery, we have had our Bible study and our prayer meeting. Now, before we share the meal … are we at peace with one another?

The Peace is still objected to in some parishes. How it is introduced will shape whether it is acceptable and whether it is liturgical. In the Communion we are being reconciled with God and with one another, so this should not be any old peace.

In him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

The peace of the Lord be always with you
and also with you.

Let us offer one another a sign of peace.

Celebrating at the Lord’s Table

But we have more to offer. Most people think of the offertory as the collection. But it is not, at all. It is about offering God back what God has offered us … food and drink to nourish us, transformed by our labour, the fruits of our labour, our sweat and toil.

And we offer that as we prepare to eat together.

Now is the time to eat together, and so before the meal we prepare the table.

Once again, The Book of Common Prayer (p. 77) is very specific:

The bread to be used shall be the best and purest bread that can be obtained. Care is to be taken that the wine is fit for use.

In families, children love preparing the family table, love the idea of gifts being given and received. There’s not much chance of that happening at this point in a parish church if they have been sent out to Sunday school beforehand.

If the priest washes his or her hands at Lavabo, it is good table manners. Remember how over and over again, the Church uses water as a sign of purity and purification.

If children are preparing the altar, they would love to hear these appropriate words:

Wise and gracious God,
you spread a table before us;
nourish your people with the word of life,
and the bread of heaven. Amen.


Or when the gifts are brought forward – and the most important gifts are not money but food and drink that sustain us – we might also include gifts made by the children who have come in from the Sunday School. It is more likely we are going to hear traditional words such as: ‘Lord, yours is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty; for all things come from you and of your own we give you.’

The Eucharist is not just words. It comes alive in action. And so there are four identifiable movements or actions we should watch out: taking, blessing, breaking and giving.

First we have the Taking of the Bread and Wine.

The bread and wine are the gifts of God and the work of our hands has turned wheat and grapes and water into bread and wine ... we offer to God what God has offered to us

We sometimes get this so wrong. How often do we find the bread and wine are already on the table or altar, or on a credence table at the side where no-one can see them? If the bread is little bits of sliced pan already cut into tiny squares, how are we going to break the bread together?

And those who preside should show they are taking this bread and wine – and this is not about elevation. Only the bishop or priest then may say: ‘Christ our Passover …’ This is one of the roles of the president, and cannot be delegated.

Like the opening greeting, this too states clearly what we are about to do. This is no longer bread and wine for secular use. What God has given to us for our sustenance we now offer to God.

The Eucharist ... the word simply means thanksgiving

Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us
therefore let us celebrate the feast.

The word Eucharist simply means thanksgiving. In a sense we are all lifting that Bread and Wine and saying thanks you for God’s gifts of life and what sustains life.

The Great Thanksgiving

There are three Great Thanksgiving Prayers in The Book of Common Prayer.

For example, Prayer 3 looks back to the past, looks to the present, and looks to the future. It is remembrance and anticipation of the beginning and the fulfilment of Creation. There is a true epiclesis or calling down of the Holy Spirit on us and on our gifts, it is fully Trinitarian, and its responses and refrains reminds us that Liturgy is the Work of the People, that we are all celebrating together.

The spirit of each of these three prayers is thanksgiving. It is not supposed to be quiet, or penitential, or singular. The appropriate posture is that we are all standing, for all are celebrating. But how many people when they are leading the liturgy change this by asking people to kneel, or by asking them to kneel for Sanctus. The only rubric for posture in Holy Communion is ‘Stand’, and, as Bishop Harold Miller says, the normal place for presiding is behind the altar/table, with hands out-stretched throughout the prayer.

The whole prayer, and not merely the Biblical words recalling the Last Supper, is the Eucharistic Prayer. If after those words the bread and wine are raised up, it is in giving thanks. But it is the whole prayer that is what we may call the ‘consecration,’ it is all the Eucharist, the Lord’s Supper, the Holy Communion.

Sieger Koder … ‘The breaking of the bread’

In this chapel, when two people stand beside the celebrant or presiding priest, they are not there primarily to assist him/her, but to symbolise that we are all gathered around together. It is not that they are assisting the priest, but that the priest is assisting us to celebrate. He/she is the servant at the Table. This is Christ’s meal … and, as the Body of Christ, it is our meal. Notice the plural language that we use:

The Lord is here.
His Spirit is with us.

Lift up your hearts.
We lift them to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
It is right to give our thanks and praise.

Father, Lord of all creation,
we praise you for your goodness and your love.
When we turned away you did not reject us …

And so on.

Notice the four-fold movement of taking, blessing, breaking and giving. Earlier, we had the taking of the gifts of bread and wine. In the thanksgiving, in the invocation of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, we have the blessing.

Taking, blessing … then we have the breaking and the giving. And we prepare for this in the words of The Lord’s Prayer.

As our Saviour Christ has taught us, we are bold to say:

Then we have The Breaking of the Bread, what is also called the Fraction.

The bread which we break
is a sharing in the body of Christ.
We being many are one body,
for we all share in the one bread
.

We break, we share. There is no point in a meal where the food is not served. And so the fourth essential movement, after taking, blessing and breaking, is the giving … the giving and receiving. And at The Communion there is an invitation to each and every one of us, collectively and individually:

Draw near with faith.
Receive the body of our Lord Jesus Christ which he gave for you,
and his blood which he shed for you.
Remember that he died for you,
and feed on him in your hearts by faith with thanksgiving.

Only when the invitation has been given, should the altar party receive Communion. It would be wrong for them to receive first and then invite others; this is work of the whole Church, and there are not two categories or classes of baptised and communicant members. The rubric states specifically: the presiding minister and people receive communion, and states this after the invitation.

And if you were at a meal, how appropriate it would be for us all to serve one another, to look after each other’s needs.

At the reception, our ‘Amen’ is our Amen to Christ present to us and among us in so many ways this morning … in Word, in Sacrament, and in us collectively as the Body of Christ.

What happens to the sacred elements and the sacred vessels afterwards?

The Book of Common Prayer in the Church of Ireland is very directive and specific about what should happen. It says (p. 77):

Any of the consecrated bread and wine remaining after the administration of the communion is to be reverently consumed.

And:

After the communion the vessels shall be carefully and thoroughly cleansed with water.

The Great Silence

When all have received Communion, all keep silence, not for some imposed act of piety, but for reflection on this awe-filled meeting with God. As the Bible reminds us constantly, the Fear of the Lord is the beginning of all Wisdom.

The Blessing and Dismissal

When we have been gathered, we have had our Bible study, we have had our prayer meeting, and we have our meal together, we are ready for Going out as God’s People. We are ready for a Blessing to send us out into the world in mission.

Firstly, we are prepared for that with an appropriate Post-Communion Prayer. Then we think on what has happened in the past hour, and look forward to the coming week:

Almighty God,
we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food
of the body and blood of your Son Jesus Christ.
Through him we offer you our souls and bodies
to be a living sacrifice.
Send us out in the power of your Spirit
to live and work to your praise and glory. Amen.


To do that we expect God’s blessing:

The peace of God,
which passes all understanding,
keep your hearts and minds
in the knowledge and love of God,
and of his son Jesus Christ our Lord;
and the blessing of God almighty,
the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always. Amen.

And then that’s it, Let’s go!

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord
in the name of Christ. Amen.

And we go.

Material from The Book of Common Prayer of the Church of Ireland (2004) © RCB 2004.

Some reading:

Rosalind Brown, Christopher Cocksworth, On Being a Priest Today (Cambridge MA: Cowley, 2002).
Stephen Burns, Liturgy (London: SCM Press, 2006).
Andrew Davison, Why Sacraments (London: SPCK, 2013).
Andrew Davison, Alison Milbank, For the Parish, A Critique of Fresh Expression (London: SCM, 2010).
Mark Earey, Liturgical Worship: a fresh look, how it works, why it matters (London: Church House Publishing, 2002).
Howard E. Galley, The Ceremonies of the Eucharist, A Guide to Celebration (Cambridge MA: Cowley Publications, 1989).
Richard Giles, Creating Uncommon Worship: transforming the liturgy of the Eucharist (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2004).
Robert Hovda, Strong, Loving and Wise: Presiding in Liturgy (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1976).
Harold Miller: The Desire of our Soul: a user’s guide to the Book of Common Prayer (Dublin: Columba, 2004).
Cyril E Pocknee, The Parson’s Handbook, the work of Percy Dearmer (London: Oxford University Press, 1965).
Simon Reynolds, able Manners, Liturgical Leadership for the Mission of the Church (London: SCM, 2014).
Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating the Eucharist, A Practical Guide (London: SPCK, 2011 edition, Alcuin Liturgy Guides 3).
Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Victory, Ash Wednesday to Trinity (London: SPCK, 2009, Alcuin Liturgy Guides 6).

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy, and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute and chaplain of the Dearmer Society Ireland. These notes were prepared for a discussion at the first meeting in the new academic year 2016-2017 of the Dearmer Society in the institute chapel on 4 October 2016.

21 October 2014

‘With those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in the world’ … finding
a home for the Spiritually Homeless

Inside Saint Bartholomew’s Church, Ballsbridge, Dublin … why is ‘traditional church’ appealing to ‘Millennial’ Christians who know what it is to be ‘spiritually homeless’? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

When Jesus came to Golgotha, they hanged Him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet, and made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days, and human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to Birmingham, they simply passed Him by.
They would not hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die;
For men had grown more tender, and they would not give Him pain,
They only just passed down the street, and left Him in the rain.

Still Jesus cried, ‘Forgive them, for they know not what they do,’
And still it rained the winter rain that drenched Him through and through;
The crowds went home and left the streets without a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall, and cried for Calvary.


– ‘Indifference,’ by the Revd GA Studdert Kennedy (‘Woodbine Willie,’ 1883-1929)

At the end of last week, the Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, the Very Revd Dermot Dunne, slept out in the open for the night to draw attention to the work of Focus Ireland and the plight of homeless people in Dublin.

The following morning [18 October 2014], he was interviewed by Marian Finucane on RTÉ and spoke eloquently and with tempered passion about his work with homeless charities in London before he returned to Ireland and ministry in the Church of Ireland.

The problem of homelessness in Dublin has increased dramatically due to the recent economic problems and the austerity measures that followed in their wake. Focus Ireland estimates that about 5,000 people are homeless at any one time in Ireland.

The most recent statistics on homelessness in Ireland are from census night on 10 April 2011. The figures are probably outdated by now, but we can imagine that the problem is getting worse rather than improving. Those figures show 3,808 people were in accommodation providing shelter for homeless people or were sleeping rough. Of these, 62% (or 2,375) were living in Dublin that night, and 644 (17%) were under the age of 20; 15% or 553 people were non-Irish, compared to 12% of the total population.

Focus Ireland estimates at least 87 people are sleeping rough in Dublin on any one night.

The Dean’s big sleep-out began at 7 p.m. on Friday night and ended at 6.30 a.m. on Saturday morning. I imagine he had the prayerful and spiritual support of many of his clerical colleagues in the diocese, and the support of parishes throughout Dublin and Glendalough.

I know many parishes work quietly and gently with homeless people, and many a person sleeping rough has found a safe shelter for a night in church porch or in church grounds.

Of course, a safe shelter is no substitute for a stable home. And at times, I wonder if the people who slept in the church porch on Saturday night presented themselves at the church door on Sunday morning would they find the same warm welcome that I have come to know as a visiting priest with a high profile and a recognisable face.

If – and I am only saying if – homeless people find they are not welcome in our churches and cathedrals throughout the Church of Ireland, then what is the point of priests like Dean Dermot raising funds and raising awareness around this issue?

We remind ourselves liturgically, time and again, that as a community of faith our origins are among homeless people, strangers and sojourners – a wandering Aramaean, liberated slaves who wander in the wilderness for 40 years long, exiles in Babylon who knew that the land was not their home, a homeless couple with their child, fleeing from Bethlehem through the wilderness to the land where their ancestors once were salves, the Son of Man who has no places to lay down his head (Matthew 8: 20; Luke 9: 58) …

The Dublin and Glendalough Diocesan Synod began earlier this afternoon [21 October 2014] in Taney Parish, and I am missing one of the student-organised Harvest Thanksgiving Services. This morning, they collected food and other goods for the homeless in Dublin and to support the work of the Mendicity Institution.

Occasionally, I see people who are dressed or look different having to explain themselves on the way into a church or cathedral. At this synod this evening, I am wondering if the homeless cannot find a welcome in our churches and cathedrals, how we can say they are welcoming homes for the family and children of God.

‘Spiritual homelessness’

Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin … many ‘Millennial Christians’ have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

But there is another form of homelessness that also worries me and that should be of particular concern to all in the Church. Perhaps I should call this “spiritual homelessness.”

There are people who have been pushed to the margins in our parishes because of their differences and their questions. Their questions are regarded as difficult. But these questions do not indicate that they have abandoned their faith. Indeed, perhaps their persistence in questioning shows that they have clung to the faith despite all our moralising and our propensity to being judgemental in the Church.

They are on a journey through a spiritual wilderness. But do we assure them on enough occasions that God is accompanying them on that journey and that there is a “Promised Land” awaiting them.

They may question God, they may challenge God; they may question the Church, they may challenge the Church; but they are on a journey, and so often the response in the Church seems to be to abandon the spiritually homeless.

A survey in the US last year by the Barna Group shows that about 30% of people under 30 have no religious affiliation. Many of them drop out of going to church after having gone regularly, and two large segments of these people say either Christianity just makes no sense to them or they have a bad experience in the church. They turn away as they see how the church treats women and gays and people of different faiths. They have become spiritually homeless.

The good news about this generation of 20 and 30-somethings is their strong desire to connect to the traditions of the church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement.

They are not at all convinced by the efforts of an older generation of clergy of a particular type to make the Church appear culturally trendy and fashionable. In that, they too are made spiritually homeless when they see what some efforts at “Fresh Expressions” of Church try to offer them.

In their critique of “Fresh Expressions,” Andrew Davison of Westcott House, Cambridge and Alison Milbank of Nottingham University argue for the vitality of the parish, both for mission and for discipleship.

Alison was recently visited the Church of Ireland Theological Institute to speak at a conference on ‘Catholic Evangelism’ organised by Affirming Catholicism. In For the Parish: A Critique of Fresh Expressions (2010), these two theologians convincingly say that the forms of the Church are to be an embodiment of our faith and should therefore be more determined by our theological traditions than by the surrounding culture. They show that the traditions of the parish church represent ways in which time, space, community are ordered in relation to God and the Gospel.

In his book, You Lost Me, David Kinnaman of the Barna Group divides these once church-going “Millennials” into three spiritual journeys, which he labels “nomads,” “prodigals” and “exiles.”

The Nomads are 18- to 29-year-olds with a Christian background who walk away from church engagement but still consider themselves Christians.

The Prodigals are those who have lost their faith. They once claimed a personal faith, but say they are fairly certain of never ever returning to the Christian faith.

The Exiles struggle with the Christian faith and have a tough time finding a place in a church setting. They have chosen to remain within the church but feel “lost” between their commitments to the Church and their desire to stay connected with the world. They often say they remain Christian and continue to go to church, but they find church is a difficult place for them to live out their faith. They want a way to follow Christ in their day-to-day lives.

Many of the Exiles say God is more at work outside the Church than inside the Church, and they want to be a part of that.

The report finds millions of Millennial Christians are concerned for the future of their faith. They have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement. A large number say they desire “a more traditional faith, rather than a hip version of Christianity.”

None of these three groups is fully at home in the Church today. They are spiritual exiles and spiritually homeless.

Yet, I was not surprised as I took part in Choral Evensong in Christ Church Cathedral last Thursday, during my week as canon-in-residence in the cathedral, that more than 80 people were present, and that over half of these were in “Millennial” age group, between 18 and 29.

Contrary to the trendy perspective, traditional church worship, with Choral Evensong, including the Readings, Canticles, preces, and versicles and responses made sense to this generation, and they did not need to be spoken down to.

The nomads, prodigals and exiles somewhere other than home. They are travellers, sojourners and spiritually homeless. They seek spontaneity, participation, adventure and relationships, but they often offered featureless programmes and moralistic content. They are more willing to be challenged than most church leaders are willing to challenge them.

What would a Church for the Spiritually Homeless look like in the Diocese of Dublin and Glendalough today? If we abandoned moralising and being judgmental but continued to offer the traditional riches of the Church, what would happen?

In a poem about Advent in Raids on the Unspeakable, Thomas Merton (1915-1968) wrote that Christ mysteriously hides himself in those for whom here is no room:

Into this world,
this demented inn,
in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ has come uninvited.

But because he cannot be at home in it,
because he is out of place in it,
and yet he must be in it,
his place is with those others for whom there is no room.

His place is with those who do not belong,
who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak,
those who are discredited,
who are denied the status of persons,
tortured, excommunicated,
with those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in the world.

He is mysteriously present in those
for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst.
It is in these that he hides himself,
for whom there is no room.


26 February 2014

Is ‘Celtic Spirituality’ worth rescuing
from ‘Celtic Sensuality’?

Glendalough ... the monastic “Valley of the Two Lakes” (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Affirming Catholicism Ireland,

Church of Ireland Theological Institute,

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

Introduction


It is interesting that the recent debate on celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day in Dublin this year [2014] focussed on whether it was appropriate to have a fun fair outside Government buildings as the main artistic highlight of the day.

This debate was about the artistic merits of a Fun Fair. But there was no mention of Saint Patrick, about his spiritual message, or about the uniqueness of the experience of Christianity in Ireland and the Church in the centuries afterwards.

Similarly, the debate is about the AOH’s role in organising the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade, the exclusion of the LGBT community, and the decision by Irish dignitaries not to attend.

Saint Patrick’s Day is less than three weeks away [17 March 2014], and most of the fun will be at parades, at fun fairs, at the green lighting up of public buildings and monument, and – inevitability – the quaffing of copious litres of Green Beer.

No-one will worry that once again places like Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin will be hermetically sealed off so that only the most adroit of churchgoers will be able to attend and continue the real traditions that we say were established by Saint Patrick.

We do this constantly in this country: Saint Patrick’s Day is hijacked by parades and pints; Easter Day is hijacked by the 1916 commemorations; and Celtic Spirituality is relegated to the ‘New Age Spirituality’ shelves in our bookshops, or the glossy souvenirs in Dublin Airport’s duty-free ‘shopping experience.’

But is there such a thing as Celtic Spirituality? And is it worth rescuing from ‘Celtic Sensuality’?

Some years ago, I spent an autumn’s afternoon in Glendalough, looking for what I thought would be the remains of a great Celtic monastery.

Imagine my surprise when I found that the most prominent Celtic High Cross I was taking photographs of – one that stands beneath the Great Round Tower – was a gravestone erected in the late 19th century.

A few more Celtic myths were shattered that afternoon: the Great Round Tower was capped in the late 19th century too, so as we see it today is not as it once stood; even Saint Kevin’s Church is an 18th century church, built according to plans derived from an earlier sketch by a French or Swiss artist.

Our images of Celtic spirituality are often shaped by Victorian romanticism. Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, as we know it, is based on a manuscript from the late 11th century now in the Library of Trinity College Dublin. But it was only published in 1897 by John Henry Bernard (1860-1927), later Church of Ireland Archbishop of Dublin (1915-1919) and Provost of Trinity College Dublin (1919-1927).

The hymn Be Thou My Vision (Church Hymnal 643) refers to Christ as “my high tower” ... the Round Tower at Glendalough (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Sometimes, our images of Celtic Spirituality are intricately linked with the nation-state-building myths created by an Irish nationalism that was often narrow in its vision. Yet, Be thou my vision, Hymn 643 in the Church Hymnal, was versified by a member of the Church of Ireland, Dr Eleanor Henrietta Hull, using another translation of an earlier poem or prayer.

But often the vision of the nation myth-makers was of an Ireland in which anything they regarded as “Celtic” was wrapped up with a narrow, exclusive concept of being green, Gaelic, Catholic, nationalist and Irish.

Saint Patrick’s Window in Saint Edan’s Cathedral, Ferns, Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The popular images of Saint Patrick at that time in stained-glass windows, road-side statues and popular postcards show him standing on a bed of shamrocks decked in the robes and mitre of a truly Tridentine bishop. Of course, I would point out that green is the wrong liturgical colour both for Lent and for a saint’s day. But why was he never seen in those popular portrayals in convocation robes or in a simple alb and stole? Because the message was clear: Celtic Christianity was for Roman Catholics only, and at that for a particular type of Catholicism.

And yet we did something similar in the Church of Ireland in the 19th century. antiquarians posing as historians claimed Patrick, and every other Celtic saint they could find, for Protestant Christianity, as opposed to Roman Christianity … as if Christianity in Ireland before the 12th or 13th centuries was pure from heresy, undefiled by superstition and out of touch with the Continental European Church.

Nor was Celtic Christianity the only formative influence on the Church in Ireland as it moved from the mediaeval period towards the Reformations. The Preamble and Declaration of 1870 describe the Church of Ireland as “the Ancient Catholic and Apostolic Church of Ireland” – what a title. But that ancient and catholic church is not just Celtic; it was influenced and shaped too by other cultural forces, including the Vikings, Anglo-Normans, and many others. Hopefully this will continue in the future, with the Romanians, Nigerians, Chinese, or others.

It may be that the economic woes of the past year or two have made us despise the Celtic Tiger. But Celtic Spirituality is still a fashionable commodity when you look at the shops around Christ Church Cathedral or go shopping for small presents in Dublin Airport before a flight.

Much of what passes as “Celtic” and as “Celtic Spirituality” is tatty and second-rate. But there are compelling reasons to have a sound grasp of Celtic spirituality in the context of ministry in Ireland today.

The Cathedral ... the largest and most imposing of the buildings at Glendalough, Co Wicklow (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Firstly, many of the cathedrals and churches of the Church of Ireland stand on ancient Celtic monastic sites. If you have ever wondered why so many Church of Ireland cathedrals – Achonry, Ardagh, Clogher, Clonfert, Elphin, Emly, Ferns, Kilfenora, Kilmacduagh, Kilmore, Leighlin, Raphoe, Rosscarbery – are in small villages or remote locations, or why it took so long to build cathedrals in Belfast, Enniskillen, or Sligo, or why still we have no cathedral in Galway, then you begin to realise the lasting influences of the Celtic monasteries.

Secondly, Celtic Christianity is popular and marketable – it’s a lifestyle choice. The three most popular categories of books on religion or on “Mind, Body and Spirit” shelves in Irish bookshops are on Buddhism, new age-type books on angels, and new age-style books on “Celtic Spirituality.”

It is important to know the minds of people, to know what engages them spiritually, what passes as religion for many if we are going to be incarnational in our ministry and mission.

But much of the writing about Celtic spirituality today is superficial, amateur, new age material, making spurious claims for the writers and against Christianity. For example: “Perhaps it is this mixture of pagan and Christian that makes Celtic Spirituality so interesting and so accessible today ... It is easier to find spiritual truth in a sacred grove than a dusty half empty church hall.”

Or what do you make of this claim: “Celtic Spirituality … is not a religion, it is a series of beliefs and practices to help you become aware of the spiritual world around you and your place in it. Whether you find it suitable to work with Jesus, his apostles and the Celtic Saints, or Brigid, Mannán Mac Lir and the Celtic gods, it matters little. What matters is that your life is enriched; you are at peace with your inner-being and that you become aware of the magic and incredible world that surrounds us all.”

Patrick Wormald describes this as “... ‘new-age’ paganism,” based on notions of some sort of “Celtic spirituality,” allegedly distinguished by a unique “closeness to nature.”

And thirdly, modern spirituality, in a dynamic way, has drawn on and has been enriched by many resources associated with Celtic spirituality, enriching the life of the Church of Ireland at every level.

There are at least 20 hymns from the Irish language in the Church Hymnal, and many more tunes with a Celtic air to them. We have all been enriched by the prayers of the Iona Community, the hymns of John Bell, Graham Maule and the Wild Goose Worship Group, the active and engaged spirituality of the Corrymeela community, or the resources of the Northumbria Community near Lindisfarne.

The global reception of the hymns of John Bell and Graham Maule show how there is a fresh and new interest in Celtic Spirituality that is not confined to Ireland.

At an academic level, this interest has been stimulated by scholars such as James Mackey, Ian Bradley in the Church of Scotland, the Jesuit Diarmuid Ó Laoghaire (1915-2001), the Carmelite Peter O’Dwyer and the Redemptorist John Ó Ríordáin, and writers such as the late John O’Donohue, poet and author of Anam Cara (1997) who died about six years ago [4 January 2008].

The Celts: who were they?

‘As the deer pants for the water’ … the base of the ‘Market Cross’ in Kells, Co Meath, has two friezes, including a deer hunt (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

If we are going to talk about Celtic spirituality, I should begin with caution: it is difficult to say if there was such a group of people as Celts. The name for Celts comes from terms used by the Greeks and Romans to describe the people who lived in Gaul (France). But scholars differ when they answer the question: Who were the Celts?

Did they originate in southern Europe, or in what is now southern Germany and Austria? Or did they come from the Pontic-Caspian region? Strabo suggests that the Celtic heartland was in southern France. Pliny the Elder says the Celts originated in southern Portugal and Spain. But how did they reach the remote Atlantic coasts and islands of Western Europe we now know as the “Celtic fringe”?

“Celt” is a modern English word. There are few written records of ancient Celtic languages and most of the evidence for personal names and place names is found in Greek and Roman authors. The names used by Greek (Κελτοί, Γαλᾶται) and Latin writers (Galli) refer to speakers of similar languages, but not to a people. The one group of Biblical Celts are named in two New Testament letters: the Letter to the Galatians, and also I Peter (see I Peter 1: 1). Saint Jerome (AD 342-419), in his commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, notes the language of the Anatolian Galatians at his time.

Romantic antiquarian interest popularised the term “Celt,” but only from the 17th century on. Because of the rise of nationalism and Celtic revivals from the 19th century on, the term “Celtic” is now used to identify the languages and cultures of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man and Brittany. But the term “Celtic” also applies to Continental European regions with a Celtic heritage but no Celtic language, such as northern Iberia, and to a lesser degree France.

“Celticity” refers to shared cultural indicators, such as language, myths, artefacts and social organisation. But does that shared culture and family of language imply a shared ethnicity?

There is little archaeological evidence in Ireland for large inward Celtic migration. European Celtic influences and language may have been absorbed gradually. But did the Celts arrive in Ireland by invasion? Or did their culture and language spread gradually to other peoples already here? As one writer in The Irish Times argued, just because we all eat pasta and pizza, drink Chianti, holiday in Tuscany and are decked out by Versace and Gucci, does not make us Italian, even culturally. Nor does it indicate there was ever an Italian invasion of Ireland. Were the Celtic languages and cultures adopted as some sort of early fashion statement?

Can we talk about a Celtic Christianity?

Saint Kevin’s Church, Glendalough ... named after the founder of the monastic settlement, has a steep roof supported internally by a semi-circular vault (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Can we talk about a “Celtic Christianity” with distinguishing, unique traditions, spirituality, liturgies and rituals that mark it out from other traditions in the Church in the neighbouring sub-Roman world?

“Celtic Christianity” broadly refers to early mediaeval Christian practices that developed around the Irish Sea in the 5th and 6th centuries, among many people on these islands. By extension, the term can refer to the monastic networks founded from Scotland and Ireland on Continental Europe, especially in Gaul (France).

The term “Celtic Christianity” is sometimes extended beyond the 7th century to describe later Christian practice in these areas. But the history of the churches on these islands diverges significantly after the 8th century, with great differences even between rival Irish traditions.

It is easy to exaggerate the cohesiveness of the Celtic Christian communities. The term “Celtic Church” is inappropriate to describe Christianity among Celtic-speaking peoples. Celtic-speaking areas were part of Latin or Western Christendom as a whole. But we can talk about certain traditions in Celtic-speaking lands, and the development and spread of these traditions, especially in the 6th and 7th centuries.

The flowering of Celtic Christianity

A late Celtic high cross at Saint Edan’s Cathedral, Ferns, Co Wexford … Saint Edan was once claimed as pre-Patrician bishop in Ireland (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Britain was the most remote province in the Roman Empire. Christianity reached England in the first few centuries AD, and the first recorded martyr in England was Saint Alban, perhaps between 283 and 304, certainly long before Saint Patrick’s time in Ireland.

The Roman legions were withdrawn from England in 407, Rome was sacked in 410, the legions did not return to England, and Roman influence came to an end. In the aftermath, these islands developed distinctively from the rest of Western Europe, and the Irish Sea acted as a centre from which a new culture developed among the “Celtic” peoples.

Ireland was never part of the Roman Empire. But Christianity came here from the former Roman outposts, and a unique Church organisation emerged, focussed on the monasteries, rather than on episcopal sees, with their own traditions and practices. Key figures in this process included Saint Ninian, Palladius and Saint Patrick, the “Apostle of Ireland.” Ireland was converted through the work of missionaries from Britain such as Patrick and others.

Celtic missions

Early Celtic saints and founding figures of the Church included Saint Martin in France, Saint Ninian in Scotland, Saint Patrick and Saint Brigid in Ireland, and Saint Samson and Saint David in Wales and Brittany.

In the 6th and 7th centuries, monks from Ireland established monastic settlements in parts of Scotland. They included Saint Columba or Saint Colmcille, who settled on Iona. Ireland became “a land of saints and scholars” and missionaries from Ireland became a major source of missionary work in Scotland, Saxon parts of Britain and central Europe.

As the Anglo-Saxons colonised what is now England, Celtic missionaries from Scotland and Ireland worked among them. In the year 631, Saint Aidan was sent from Iona to evangelise them from the island of Lindisfarne, on England’s north-east coast. Celtic practice heavily influenced northern England, and the missionaries from Lindisfarne reached as far south as London.

Irish monks were also settling in Continental Europe, particularly in Gaul (France), including Saint Columbanus, and exerting a profound influence greater than that of many Continental centres with more ancient traditions.

Meanwhile, in 597, Pope Gregory sent a mission to the English, led by Saint Augustine. These renewed links with the greater Latin West brought the Celtic-speaking peoples into close contact with other expressions of Christianity.

Distinctive traditions

Some of the customs and traditions that had developed in Celtic Christianity were distinctive or gave rise to disputes with the rest of the Western Church. These included the monastic tradition, fixing the date of Easter, differences on the use of tonsure, and penitential rites.

1, The monastic tradition

The ‘Market Cross’ in front of Kells Heritage Centre once stood within the monastery grounds in Kells, Co Meath, associated with Saint Columba and the ‘Book of Kells’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The achievements of Christianity in the Celtic-speaking world are significant. Irish society had no pre-Christian history of literacy. Yet within a few generations of the arrival of Christianity, the monks and priests had become fully integrated with Latin culture. Apart from their Latin texts, these Irish monks also developed a written form of Old Irish.

Some of the greatest achievements of the Celtic tradition were during this period, such as the Book of Kells, and intricately carved high crosses.

Episcopal structures were adapted to an environment wholly different from that in the sub-Roman world. Apart from parts of Wales, Devon, and Cornwall, the Celtic world was without developed cities, and so different ecclesiastical structures were needed, especially in Ireland. This ecclesiastical structure developed around monastic communities and their abbots.

2, Calculating the date of Easter

Celtic Christianity was often marked by its conservatism, even archaism. One example is the method used to calculate Easter, using a calculation similar to one approved by Saint Jerome.

Eventually, most groups, including the southern Irish, accepted the new methods for calculating Easter, but not the monastery of Iona and the houses linked to it.

At the Synod of Whitby in 664, the rules of the Roman mission were accepted by the Church in England, and were extended later throughout Britain and Ireland. But the decrees of Whitby did not immediately change the face of Christianity on these islands. There were pockets of resistance to the Roman mission, especially in Devon, Cornwall and Scotland, and the monks of Iona did not accept the decisions reached at Whitby until 716.

3, Monastic tonsure

Irish monks kept a distinct tonsure, or method of cutting their hair, to distinguish their identity as monks. The “Celtic” tonsure involved cutting away the hair above one’s forehead. This differed from the prevailing custom, which was to shave the top of the head, leaving a halo of hair – in imitation of Christ’s crown of thorns.

4, Penitentials

In Ireland, a distinctive form of penance developed, where confession was made privately to a priest, under the seal of secrecy, and penance was given privately and performed privately as well. Handbooks, called “penitentials,” were designed as a guide for confessors and to regularise the penance given for each particular sin.

In the past, penance had been a public ritual, but had fallen into disuse. But the Irish penitential practice spread throughout continental Europe, and Saint Columbanus is said to have introduced the “medicines of penance” to Gaul.

By 1215, the Celtic practice had become the European norm, with the Fourth Lateran Council issuing a canonical requirement for confession at least once per year.

Renewed interest in ‘Celtic Spirituality’

A replica high cross from the 19th century beneath the Round Tower of Glendalough (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In the 19th century, there was a revival of interest in Celtic spirituality in these islands, with renewed interest in the poetry, customs or household prayers of the western Celtic fringes. It coincided with a similar revival in political and artistic circles.

Hymns mentioning high towers were written in the same decades in the late 19th century as the Round Tower was restored and capped in Glendalough, a Round Tower was erected at the grave of Daniel O’Connell in Glasnevin Cemetery, and, as part of the Victorian Arts and Crafts Movement, my great-grandfather decorated the top storey of the Irish House, a pub that stood beneath Christ Church Cathedral, with a series of rising round towers.

The Gaelic Athletic Association was formed in 1884, the Gaelic League by Douglas Hyde, a rector’s son, in 1893. Our most popular English-language version of Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, Frances Alexander’s I bind unto myself today (Irish Church Hymnal, 322) was first sung and published as late as 1889. The English-language version of Be thou my vision by Mary Byrne and Eleanor Hull (Irish Church Hymnal, No 643), which refers to God as “my high tower,” was only translated and versified in 1905, and was first published in a hymnal in 1915.

The pediment of the Irish House, on the corner of Wood Quay and Winetavern Street, was decorated by James Comerford in 1870 with a series of Celtic motifs, topped by a collection of rising round towers

In Scotland, many ‘Celtic’ poems and prayers were collected and edited by Alexander Carmichael in his Carmina Gadelica (1900) and in Ireland by Douglas Hyde in the Religious Songs of Connacht (1906).

In 1938, George MacLeod, a Church of Scotland minister, rebuilt Iona’s ancient Abbey, and founded the modern Iona Community.

Since the 1980s, Celtic-style books of prayers by the Revd David Adam, Vicar of Lindisfarne, have become widely popular, as has a wave of books about Celtic Christianity, study courses, and Celtic interest networks.

Themes in Celtic Spirituality

For centuries, the riches of Celtic spirituality were transmitted orally. These included prayers sung or chanted at the rising and setting of the sun, in the midst of daily work and routine, at a child’s birth, or at a loved one’s death. There were prayers of daily life celebrating God as Life within all life, with creation as his dwelling place.

1, Creation:

David Adam says: “Celtic Christians saw a universe ablaze with God’s glory, suffused with a presence that calls, nods and beckons – a creation personally united with its Creator in every atom and fibre.”

There’s no plant in the ground
But is full of his blessing.
There’s no thing in the sea
But is full of his life...
There is nought in the sky
But proclaims his goodness.
Jesu! O Jesu! it’s good to praise thee!
– (Carmina Gadelica)

Long before Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Patrick called Christ the “True Sun.” Ray Simpson writes in Celtic Blessings: “A good way to experience Jesus is to use what I call the Sun Bathing Exercise. Imagine Jesus as the smiling sunshine of God pouring rays of light upon you. Just soak these up, relax and feel better! Celtic Christians see Jesus as the divine light that permeates all creation. So by spending time in nature we can also be spending time with Jesus.”

2, Humanity

Christ enthroned ... the Book of Kells

O Son of God … dear child of Mary, you are the refined molten metal of our forge. – Tadhg Óg Ó Huiginn

Christ is the supreme example of a complete human life. By being united to him, we can learn how to be fully human by finding a body-mind-intuition balance, and by growing in wisdom and, above all, love.

3, Worship and community

Early Celtic Christians shared their food, money, work, play and worship in little communities which were always open to the people who lived around them. Wherever they lived they saw Christ in their neighbour and made community with them.

Celtic writers talked about worshipping God with the “five-stringed harp” ... the North Cross in Castledermot, Co Kildare, depicts King David with his harp – one of the few images on a Celtic high cross from this time of an Irish harp (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Celtic writers talked about worshipping God with the “five-stringed harp” – meaning all five senses. The Celtic churches punctuated each day and night with periods of prayer.

4, The Trinity

Celtic Christians placed a strong emphasis on the Holy Trinity. They followed the one God who embraces the world with his two arms of love: the right arm is Christ; the left arm is the Spirit:

I lie down this night with God
And God will lie down with me
I lie down this night with Christ
And Christ will lie down with me
I lie down this night with the Spirit
And the Spirit will lie down with me
. – (Carmina Gadelica)

5, Everyday prayers

The Celts prayed about anything and everything in a natural way. Prayers for frequent activities were learned by heart and handed down by word of mouth or later in writing.

Some of the Celtic prayers are blessings:

Bless to me, O God
Each thing my eye sees,
Each sound my ear hears,
Each person I meet.


Some Celtic prayers were “circling prayers”:

Circle me, Lord.
Keep peace within, keep harm without.
Circle me, Lord.
Keep love within, keep hate without.


6, Prayer and imagination

Celtic prayer is also marked by the use of imagination, for example, by imagining that Christ, his mother or friends were in the kitchen, in the house, in the workplace, or even in the bedroom. Here are some examples:

I will do my household chores as would Mary, mother of Jesus.
I will travel to my next place in the presence of the angels of protection.
Who is that near me when I am sad and alone?
It is Jesus, the King of the sun
.

7, Armour (“Breastplate”) prayers

The most famous of the armour or breastplate prayers for protection is known as Saint Patrick’s Breastplate. This invites God’s force-field to strengthen us for life’s struggles.

The armour consists of:

1. God – the three in one
2. Human valour as lived by Christ
3. Angels and great souls
4. Powers of creation
5. Spiritual gifts

The praying person then confronts negative forces one by one, invites Christ into each situation, and repeats the opening invocation.

In the prayer we call Saint Patrick’s Breastplate (see Hymns 322 and 611 in the Church Hymnal), the writer imagines that he is Saint Patrick, putting on the different items of God’s armour: God, good spirits, saints, powers of creation, spiritual gifts – just like a suit of armour. The eighth verse of this prayer (Hymn 322) says:

Christ be with me,
Christ within me,
Christ behind me,
Christ before me,
Christ beside me,
Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ in quiet,
Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger
.

8, Blessing prayers

The Celtic way blessed everything in life (except evil), however earthy or every-day, all around the clock, including animals, food, gifts, jobs, lovemaking, meals, travel. Here are examples of an anniversary and a sleep blessing:

On this your anniversary
God give you the best of memories,
Christ give you pardon for failings,
Spirit give you the fruits of friendship.

Sleep in peace,
Sleep soundly,
Sleep in love.
Weaver of dreams
Weave well in you as you sleep
. – Ray Simpson, Celtic Blessings.

9, Miracles and Celtic saints

In Celtic Christianity, saints were regarded as holy spiritual overlords who were close to God, provided assistance in times of need, had special influence in the court of heaven, and were able to plead with God for favours.

Many miracles were associated with them, including visions, healings, favours granted, mystical appearances and more. Places where miracles had been performed became pilgrimage sites.

10, The Anamchara

Celtic Christians recognised the importance of shared spiritual journeys, and their Anamchara or Soul Friend, was their spiritual director. Anamchara were sought out as men and women of wisdom, great spirituality and insight, who were willing to share their understanding of the faith with others.

Saint Brigid said that “the person without an Anamchara is like a body without a head.”

Some Celtic saints:

Apart from Saint Patrick, we ought to be familiar with some other Celtic and Irish saints from this period and tradition.

1, Saint Brigid of Kildare

Saint Brigid ... one of the three patrons of Ireland

Saint Brigid, whose feast day fell earlier this month (1 February), is second only to Saint Patrick (17 March) as the patron of Ireland. She is also known as Mary of the Gael. A passage in the Book of Lismore testifies to her importance: “It is she who helpeth everyone who is in danger; it is she that abateth the pestilences; it is she that quelleth the rage and the storm of the sea. She is the prophetess of Christ; she is the Queen of the South; she is the Mary of the Gael.”

Saint Brigid is said to offer protection to poets, blacksmiths, healers, cattle, dairymaids, midwives, new-born babies and fugitives. The numerous stories of miracles performed by her even in childhood convey the impression that she was really a person of compassion, charity and strength. Her practicality and resourcefulness were shown by fetching well water that tasted more like ale for a sick servant, or picking up rushes from the floor to twist into a cross to explain the message of salvation to a dying man. Her generosity frequently relied on prayer to make good the deficit.

Her father Dubtach was a pagan nobleman in Leinster, and her mother his Christian bondwoman, Brotseach, whom he sold to a Druid who lived at Faughart near Dundalk. There the child was born in the mid-5th century (ca 451 or 453) and baptised Bríd or Brigid. It is said that as a child she was taken to hear Saint Patrick preaching, and as she listened to him she fell into an ecstasy.

At about the age of 14, instead of accepting marriage, she opted for the religious life. She left home with seven other young girls and travelled to Co Meath where Saint Macaille was bishop.

The chancel of Saint Brigid’s Cathedral, Kildare (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Brigid founded the first convent in Ireland. She went to Ardagh to make her final vows before Saint Mel, a nephew of Saint Patrick, and he is said to have mistakenly ordained here.

Later, a unique community of monks and nuns developed at Kildare, with Brigid as Abbess of the nuns and Conleth, the first Bishop of Kildare, as Abbot of the monks. Kildare became a centre for spirituality and learning, healing, faith-sharing and evangelism.

Brigid died on 1 February ca 521-528. She is depicted in art as an abbess holding a lamp or candle, often with a cow in the background, and sometimes wearing a mitre. This poem is ascribed to her:

I long for a great lake of ale
I long for the meats of belief and pure piety
I long for the flails of penance at my house
I long for them to have barrels full of peace
I long to give away jars full of love
I long for them to have cellars full of mercy
I long for cheerfulness to be in their drinking
I long for Jesus too to be there among them
.

2, Saint Columba

The Round Tower in Kells, Co Meath ... a monastic site dating from the ninth, or even the sixth century, is associated with Saint Columba and his followers (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Saint Columba (9 June) is intimately associated with Iona, off the west coast of Scotland – and is credited with bringing Christianity to Scotland. But he is also linked to a number of Irish monastic foundations, including Kells, Co Meath, and Derry.

He was born in Co Donegal in 520 into a wealthy royal family and was given the name Colum (“the dove”). He became a priest at a monastery founded by Saint Finian and spent many years in his home region establishing hundreds of churches and monasteries.

It is said that during a visit to Saint Finian, Columba secretly copied a beautiful Psalter that Finian brought back from Rome. In doing this, he devalued the original book. Columba refused to return his the copy and Finian challenged him in court. The king ruled in favour of Finian, saying famously: “To every cow belongs her calf; to every book belongs its copy.”

When Columba still refused to give back his copy, a clan war broke out between the king’s followers and Columba’s supporters. Many people were killed in the fighting, and a shamed Columba accepted “white martyrdom” – exiling himself from his homeland as a penance. In 563, at the age of 42, Columba and 12 companion monks sailed in a currach to Iona, where they settled and founded a monastery.

Iona became the largest Christian centre in northern Britain, attracting thousands of monks, and later became a centre for missionary outreach to the highlands of Scotland.

In 597, at the age of 76, a week before he died, Columba climbed the hill overlooking the monastery in Iona, blessed the monks, and said: “In Iona of my heart, Iona of my love, Instead of monks’ voices shall be lowing of cattle, But ere the world come to an end Iona shall be as it was.” During his last days he dictated a prayer to his monks:

See that you are at peace among yourselves,
my children, and love one another.
Take the example of the good men of ancient
times and God will comfort and aid you,
both in this world and in the world to come.
Amen
.

Iona Abbey, and the Iona Community founded in the 1930s by George MacLeod, continue to inspire Christians today throughout the world.

Saint Cuthbert (636-687)

Pages from the Lindisfarne Gospels are projected onto Durham Cathedral. Artist Ross Ashton collaborated with Robert Ziegler and John del Nero to create a 12-minute Son et Lumiere, projecting pages of the Lindisfarne Gospels across the Durham Cathedral, as part of Durham Lumiere in 2011

Saint Cuthbert was born in the Scottish border country near Melrose. One night, he had a vision of a great light, stretching from earth to heaven. He learned later that on that same night, 31 August 651, Saint Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne, had died. To the young shepherd, the vision seemed to be a challenge and a call to serve God. He entered the Monastery of Old Melrose and there he spent 13 years as a monk.

Eata, Abbot of Melrose, took Cuthbert with him to Ripon where they entered the monastery together. Cuthbert later returned to Melrose as Prior in 661. As prior, he took part in the Synod of Whitby in 664, when he accepted the synod decisions on the date of Easter and the tonsure.

Cuthbert returned to Lindisfarne as Prior but then travelled throughout Northumbria. In search of a solitary life, he built a round cell and chapel south of Lindisfarne, and he lived there for eight years, devoting his time to prayer. Following in Saint Aidan’s footsteps, he was consecrated Bishop of Lindisfarne in York on Easter Day, 26 March 685. He died in 687.

During the Viking raids in Northumbria in 875, Saint Cuthbert’s followers moved his body and carried it from place to place for safety. In 883, he was buried in Chester-le-Street and in 996 he was reburied in Durham Cathedral, where his shrine remains to this day.

Some key centres for Celtic spirituality:

Ireland:

Glencolubkille and Garton, Co Donegal: Garton is the birthplace of Saint Columba, and he described Glencolumbkille as “Glen of the psalms and the prayers, glen of Heaven.”

Glendalough, Co Wicklow: Glendalough in the Wicklow Mountains, 25 miles from Dublin, is the best preserved “monastic city” in Ireland, with its round tower, seven churches and visitor centre, which tells the story of Saint Kevin.

The monastery of Holmpatrick stood on the mound in the graveyard behind the present parish church in Skerries (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Skerries: a monastery associated with Saint Patrick was first located on the islands off the shore, before moving to the site of the present Church of Ireland Parish Church, Holmpatrick, where the ruined tower behind the church stands on the height of the monastic site.

Scotland:

Iona: Saint Columba established his monastery on Iona in the 6th century. The modern Iona Community was founded in 1938 as an ecumenical community committed to seeking new ways of living the Christian faith in today’s world.

Whithorn: Saint Ninian founded the first large Christian community here in the 5th century.

Wales:

Saint David’s and Saint Non’s: Saint David’s Cathedral is near the site of the great monastic community founded by the patron saint of Wales. At nearby Saint Non’s, a well and retreat house mark the traditional site where Saint David’s mother, Saint Non, gave birth, and is the start of a coastal pilgrim trail.

England:

Lindisfarne, Northumberland: Lindisfarne has sometimes been described as the “cradle of English Christianity.” Alcuin, adviser to the Emperor Charlemagne, described Lindisfarne as “the holiest place in England.” From Lindisfarne, Saint Aidan and Saint Cuthbert spread the Christian faith north and south.

Whitby, Yorkshire: The ruins of Saint Hilda’s Abbey and the Caedmon Cross in the churchyard opposite stand out on the cliff top site. This was once the largest English monastic community for men and women. Today, the Order of The Holy Paraclete offers retreat accommodation at Saint Hilda’s Priory.

Durham: The shrine of Saint Cuthbert is at Durham Cathedral.

The Book of Chad or Lichfield Gospels show clearly the combination of Celtic and Saxon culture in the eighth century ... Saint Chad was trained in an Irish monastery (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2013)

Lichfield: Saint Chad, who was educated at an Irish monastery ca 651-664, established the church in Mercia, the pre-Norman Kingdom of the English Midlands, and died in 672. The Book of Chad, now one of the great treasures of Lichfield Cathedral, predates the Book of Kells by about 80 years.

The detail and beauty of Anglo-Saxon metalwork in the exhibitions in Lichfield Cathedral are evidence of the intimate cultural links between the ‘Celtic’ Ireland and ‘Anglo-Saxon’ England (Photographs: Patrick Comerford, 2013)

Over the last few years, I visited on a number of occasions exhibitions in Lichfield Cathedral of recent finds in a large Anglo-Saxon horde near Lichfield. This discovery points to an interesting interaction between the Saxons of Mercia and the Celtic church in Northumbria and perhaps even Ireland before the arrival of Saint Chad.

Bradwell, Essex: The 9th century chapel in Bradwell was founded by Saint Cedd of Lindisfarne.

Concluding Prayer:

As we prepare for Saint Patrick’s Day next month, my concluding prayer is the Collect of the Day for 17 March, which corrects our priorities, if they have been parades, pints and fun fairs:

Almighty God,
in your providence you chose your servant Patrick
to be the apostle of the Irish people,
to bring those who were wandering in darkness and error
to the true light and knowledge of your Word:
Grant that walking in that light
we may come at last to the light of everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.


Resources and links:

Web resources:


The Centre for the Study of Religion in Celtic Societies at the University of Wales has an on-line-library
The Iona Community.
The Island of Lindisfarne.
Saint Hilda’s Priory, the Order of the Holy Paraclete, Whitby.
Wild Goose Resource Group.

Reading:

David Adam, Border Lands (Sheed & Ward) … the best of David Adam’s Celtic vision. This is a compilation of four of his most popular books and includes prayers, meditations and Celtic art.

David Adam, The Eye of the Eagle (Triangle) … the reader is taken through the hymn, Be Thou My Vision, in a search for the spiritual riches that are hidden in all our lives.

Ian Bradley, The Celtic Way (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1993) ... the Revd Ian Bradley, a Presbyterian minister in the Church of Scotland, has lectured in the Department of Theology in the University of Aberdeen. This is a good, sound introduction to Celtic spirituality.

Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community (London: Harper Collins, 2000) … an introduction to daily prayer drawing on resources from the “Celtic Church” throughout these islands, with good notes and introductions to further resources.

Elizabeth Culling, What is Celtic Christianity? (Nottingham: Grove Books, Grove Series No 45).

The Iona Community Worship Book (Glasgow: Wild Goose, 1994 ed).

Lemuel J. Hopkins-James, The Celtic Gospels, their story and their text (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1934/2001) … Hopkins-James transcribed the Book of Chad in 1934.

Marian Keaney, Celtic Heritage Saints (Dublin: Veritas, 1998) … introduces us to scholars, adventurous sailors, saints who get their heads chopped off, friends and enemies of kings. Good for using in schools, Sunday schools, and with confirmation classes.

Diana Leatham, They Built on Rock (London: Hodder & Stoughton). This book tells the stories of the Celtic saints who maintained their faith during the Dark Ages. The people profiled include Saint Cuthbert, Saint Ninian, Saint David and Saint Columba.

James P. Mackey, An introduction to Celtic Christianity (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995 ed) … a collection of essays by 14 of the best experts on Celtic Christianity, including mission, liturgy, prayers, hymns and the arts.

Caitlín Matthews, Celtic Devotional: daily prayers and blessings (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1996/2004).

Patrick Murray, The Deer’s Cry (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1986) … a useful anthology of poetry and verse.

Peter O’Dwyer, Céilí Dé: Spiritual reform in Ireland 750-900 (Dublin: Editions Tailliura, 1981) … the story of the movement within Celtic monasticism that gave us Saint Maelruain’s Monastery in Tallaght and the Derrynaflann Chalice.

Pat Robson, The Celtic Heart (London: Fount, 1998) … a collection of Celtic writings celebrating the seasons of life by an Anglican priest living in Cornwall. It includes short biographies of saints and influential figures.

Michael Rodgers and Marcus Losack, Glendalough: A Celtic Pilgrimage (Dublin: Columba Press, 1996) … a useful guidebook to our nearest Celtic monastic foundation.

George Otto Simms, Commemorating Saints & Others of the Irish Church (Dublin: Columba Press, 1999) … biographical notes and suggestions for intercessions

Ray Simpson, Celtic Blessings (Loyola Press) … how many of us have whispered an impromptu prayer to our computer, begging it not to crash? Celtic Blessings reveals such actions are part of an ancient and sacred ritual.

Ray Simpson, The Celtic Prayer Book (Kevin Mayhew) … The Celtic Prayer Book is published in four volumes: 1, Prayer Rhythms: fourfold patterns for each day; 2, Saints of the Isles: a year of feasts; 3, Healing the Land: natural seasons, sacraments and special service; 4, Greater Celtic Christians: alternative worship.

Ray Simpson, Exploring Celtic Spirituality (Hodder & Stoughton) … the chapters of this book feature different aspects of Celtic spirituality, including cherishing the earth, contemplative prayer and the healing of society. There are prayers and responses at the end of each chapter.

Martin Wallace, The Celtic Resource Book (London: Church House Publishing) … the whole breadth of Celtic Christianity is spanned here – from liturgies and prayers and the stories of Celtic saints, through to Celtic art. The book includes liturgies for different times of the day, for use at home or in larger groups.

Canon Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and an Adjunct Assistant Professor, Trinity College, Dublin. These notes were prepared for a meeting of Affirming Catholicism Ireland on 26 February 2014.