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Tag: Common Worship

  • Sex and the Homilies

    by Revd Canon Neil Patterson, Vice-Dean of Bristol Cathedral and Chair of Together for the Church of England

    It feels like some sort of recognition for this blog, and perhaps even this author, to be quoted in an official Question at General Synod, even if the Question is not particularly friendly. For those unfamiliar with the custom, at each General Synod a large number of written Questions are submitted by members. They cover a wide range of the Church’s work, and although some are ruled ‘out of order’ as not being factual or asking bodies which are not responsible to Synod, they are an impressive aspect of accountability in the Church of England. When I first joined Synod, the initial answers were read out fresh, giving an opportunity for quick thinkers to ask a Supplementary that was occasionally interesting, but too often point-scoring. Now both Questions and written Answers are released a few days in advance, and there are fewer pointless Supplementaries. There is still a performative aspect to the whole business, and Synod always runs out of time before all Questions are covered. In recent years LLF has generated very many Questions at every group of sessions.

    The February 2026 Questions included this:

    The Revd Dr Patrick Richmond (Norwich) to ask the Chair of the Ministry Development Board:

    Q228    Given that the Guidelines for the Professional Conduct of the Clergy now serve as a primary document for discernment and discipline, what consideration has been given to the definition of ‘sexual intercourse’ used therein? Specifically, if the term is understood in the narrow sense of biological coitus, as recently argued by the Revd Canon Neil Patterson [https://viamedia.news/2026/01/24/what-is-anglican-sexanyway/] what assessment has been made regarding how the Guidelines reflect the Church’s wider authoritative teaching—such as that in the Book of Homilies warning against ‘all unlawful use of those parts ordained for generation’—and what steps are being taken to ensure that candidates and clergy understand the wider scope of the conduct to which they are committing?

    The Bishop of Chester to reply as the Chair of the Ministry Development Board:

    The replacement of references to Issues in Human Sexuality (“Issues”) with the Guidelines for the Professional Conduct for the Clergy (“the Guidelines”) in the discernment process does not create new obligations for candidates and clergy and nor does it make the Guidelines a primary document for discernment and discipline. The primary documents for discernment are the Qualities for Discernment used before a candidate comes to a discernment panel and the Qualities for Formation, using during training for ordinands. Reference is made to the Guidelines within these processes.

    The primary documents for discipline are set out in the statutory grounds within the Clergy Discipline Measure and the proposed Clergy Conduct Measure.

    As was emphasised by Synod in July 2025 when they called upon the House to replace Issues with the Guidelines, and emphasised again by the House when they decided to make the requested change, no aspect of the Church of England’s theological or ethical understanding of matters relating to sexuality has been changed by the decision to refer to the Guidelines in the process of vocational discernment and training for ordained ministry. Moreover, the Guidelines for the Professional Conduct of the Clergy do not in themselves establish or extend the law, though they do point to the law. They seek to provide a framework for behaviour that reflects the highest standard to which all clergy should aspire.

    Readers will see that the Answer rather sidesteps the Question, and the session ran out of time so Dr Richmond did not have the opportunity to ask a Supplementary. He did not contact me before referring to my previous blog, but here follows an attempt to respond more directly to his interesting Question than did the Bishop of Chester, building on the comments by Helen King in her blog.

    First, why does the Question refer to the Homilies, and perhaps indeed, what are they? The Homilies are a set of sermons, some published in 1547 and others under Elizabeth I, on a range of subjects, intended to be read by clergy who were not able to compose their own sermons, many setting out distinctly Reformed teaching for the new Church of England. I don’t consult my copy as regularly as Dr Richmond may, but the full texts are easily found. I will come on to their status in a moment, but we might first note that I think the reason for appealing to them is that neither Scripture, the Canons of the Church of England, or the authorised liturgies of the Church of England (whether the Book of Common Prayer or Common Worship) offer any direction about specific sexual acts. Indeed, I don’t think there are any direct references to particular sexual acts in the Canons or the liturgies at all. Even Scripture, whilst including the texts about different sexual relationships explored in depth in the Living in Love & Faith book, does not really offer any detail on what happens with particular body parts. Injury to male genitals may disqualify a man from full participation in worship at the Temple (Leviticus 21.20), and draws particular punishment upon a woman causing it (Deuteronomy 25.11-12), and of course there are many references to circumcision. But what happens sexually is not described, and I assume this is the reason for resort to the Homilies as a source of authority. This is far from a ‘wider authoritative teaching’ of which the quotation is a mere sample.

    Before going on to the authority of the Homilies, though, it is worth checking just how little the quotation says. It comes from one of the 1547 Homilies, given on the title page of my copy as ‘Against Whoredom and Adultery’ although at the start as ‘Against Whoredom and Uncleanness.’ As it turns out, the single sentence quoted in the Synod Question is the only one which specifically refers to body parts, and is probably the only such sentence in the whole Homilies (I confess, I have not searched them all). It occurs near the start when the homilist explains that adultery covers not only marital unfaithfulness, but also ‘all unlawful use of those parts ordained for generation.’ This was of course exactly what the General Synod motion passed in 1987 did not say. Even in the Homilies, which – as I shall explain below – are not generally squeamish in their language, the expression is somewhat euphemistic. But I suggest we can paraphrase ‘those parts ordained for generation’ as ‘the human reproductive organs’ in order to be both modern and clear.

    So, this immediately prompts a reflection. Much intimate activity between couples, of whatever sexes, does not involve the reproductive organs at all, at least not of both parties. In particular, as Helen King and others have explained with great clarity, the clitoris is not a reproductive organ but appears to exist solely to create sexual pleasure. And for that we all, especially those who have one, may thank the good Lord for his generous provision. What about ‘unlawful use’? Well, at the time of the Homily, a number of possible uses were outlawed by the Buggery Act 1533, which prescribed punishments for “the detestable and abominable vice of buggery committed with mankind or beast,” subsequently interpreted by the courts to mean penetrative sex between men, or bestiality, respectively. Today bestiality is regarded as an animal welfare offence, but unlawful use of the reproductive organs between people is defined by the Sexual Offences Act 2003, based on accepted principles around age and consent. No-one in the current debates in the Church of England is arguing for the right of the clergy, or anyone else, to disobey these laws.

    Of course, many will read the expression ‘unlawful’ in the Homily as referring to the ‘laws of God’ but that produces an immediately circular argument. Where are these to be found, for members of the Church of England? In Scripture, the Canons, the liturgy, and perhaps the 39 Articles. And as we have noted, those do not help us reach clarity. Perhaps if a Homily Against Buggery had been written (plausible enough) that would solve it, but it is no more evident than Jesus’ clear and transparent teaching on same-sex relationships. But the 39 Articles do bring us back to the Homilies, even if, as I have pointed out before, the Court of Arches declared some time ago that the Declaration of Assent has relativised their position as a doctrinal authority. But it is there, in Article 35, that we find the Homilies declared to ‘contain a good and wholesome Doctrine’ and suitable to be read in churches.

    No doubt there are still some clergy who read out a Homily from time to time. Most congregations I know would have quite a shock. They follow a fairly consistent pattern, assembling relevant Scripture texts around the theme, reinforced with robust Tudor rhetoric, and that against Adultery is broken into three parts to be useable as a sermon sequence. Whoredom is ‘filthy, stinking, and abominable’ ‘…neither is there a nearer way to damnation than to be a fornicator and an whoremonger’. It draws people away from ‘virtuous studies and fruitful labours’ to ‘carnal and fleshly imaginations.’ It is more repetitive than anything. And it is asserted, rather than shown, that adultery and fornication produce sorrow and poverty in this life, as well as eternal punishment.

    The most disturbing passage, however, occurs when the Homily, like many others, chooses to draw on the then-commonplace knowledge of the ancient world, commending as ‘godly acts’ the laws of various ancient states against adultery or whoredom (not very precisely distinguished). The argument is ‘even pagans thought it wicked.’ But the Homily glories in the various forms of mutilation or capital punishment inflicted by ancient societies – eyes cut out, a thousand lashes, women having their noses cut off to be visibly shamed for life, hands cut off, or death, by stoning, burning or beheading. The ‘Locrensians, Arabians, Athenians, with such other’ are commended for their barbaric laws. In a world where such punishment is associated with only the most violent forms of Islamic extremism, it is difficult to take the Homilies seriously as a source of moral guidance for today’s Church. They have to be interpreted, and once interpretation begins, outcomes are contested, as we all know well.

    So, to repeat the argument made before, the formal teaching of the Church of England does not give us a clear answer on the questions of sexual ethics that are currently the subject of such controversy. Many wish they did, and will no doubt continue to petition the bishops to offer clear answers to matters better judged in context and in private. But, even if they have not shown outstanding strength in setting a positive direction forward, perhaps the bishops will be able to achieve the easier task of resisting calls for easy answers, and allow us to grow into a wiser and less judgmental Church.

  • A Response to “The Doctrine of Marriage and the Prayers of Love and Faith: Texts and Contexts: a Report of the Faith and Order Commission” (GS Misc 1430)

    Fr Thomas Sharp is a priest theologian based in the South East of England and is also Provincial Secretary of the Society of Catholic Priests

    This was the second report which briefed the House of Bishops before they made their decisions in October about Living in Love and Faith (LLF). This is another extraordinary document, with which I imagine many of the members of the Faith and Order Commission will not have been entirely content. At least, I hope they would not be.

    Its purpose is to determine ‘whether and how the Church’s public use of these prayers coheres with, realises new boundaries for, or departs from its established teaching on marriage’ (§1). It does not do this, as we shall see. But it does present a case, or perhaps more accurately talk around the assumption, that the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF) (let alone equal marriage) would constitute a departure from the traditional doctrine of marriage. It does this around four general themes:

    1. public perception and theological significance of the PLF;
    2. ecclesial condoning of “life choices”;
    3. disagreement and liturgical diversity;
    4. the Church’s traditional teaching on marriage.

    1) Public Perception and Theological Significance

    The primary concern is not theological. It is about what we are seen to do. In §5 a distinction is established, between private prayers and public prayers, which is ‘not merely practical but theologically significant’. What is meant by this is that private prayers are less likely to be misinterpreted as condoning or blessing something which we actually think is bad and do not think should be blessed or condoned. Whereas, ‘In the setting of public worship, it is impossible to escape the reality that the use of the PLF is liable to be received, however unintentionally, as ecclesial endorsement of the relationship being blessed’ (§14, cf.§24). The primary problem is public perception, that people should misunderstand us and think we are blessing and approve of queer people, when in fact we are not and do not. This is not in fact a theological consideration, but a practical one of public perception.

    The argument gets stranger. A distinction is drawn between regular services and occasional ones. ‘Regular services,’ we are told, ‘carry a high presumption of normativity and significance.’ Yet ‘Bespoke services,… by their out-of-the-ordinary nature will also suggest a high level of normativity’ (§15). So it is hard to see what distinction is being drawn here.

    The essential point of the first section of the Report is that, whatever liturgical provision is offered for same-sex couples, it will be interpreted as a marriage by people at those services and by the Anglican Communion and wider society (§§26,28). Although ‘Many would maintain that audience perception does not in itself determine doctrine’ (§32), ‘The weight of audience reception, then, may tip the balance from pastoral care into apparent [doctrinal] contradiction’ (§30). And we are reminded twice that ‘lex orandi, lex credendi’ (§§29,34). In other words, liturgy should mean what we say it does, but it doesn’t, and in fact it does mean what people attending the liturgy or talking about it on ‘social media responses or press headlines’ think it does (§32). This argument is repeated in §§66-68 in the context of a discussion of the importance of published liturgy.

    There is much concern also in §27 about the clergy and lay leaders who will be affected by the ‘symbolic resonance and precedent of a prominent public LLF service’. It is not made clear what that means. It is a strangely evasive paragraph. Presumably a gay bishop and their partner using the prayers. But, of course, that would never happen, would it.

    2) Ecclesial Condoning of “Life Choices”

    After concerns about whether we might be seen to be blessing same-sex relationships, next is the question of whether the Church is condoning same-sex couples and their ‘life choice/s’. This overtly homophobic phrase of long standing is used at both §11 and §14.  We are told that there is agreement ‘that God’s blessing may be prayed for over persons and intentions without necessarily affirming all aspects of a relationship or life choice’ (§11). It is apparently entirely possible to bless a same-sex couple without blessing in any way any part of their life together. If this seems strange, we are reassured that, ‘The Church has long provided public prayers in circumstances of moral or pastoral ambiguity’ (§19). Here, you might be forgiven for thinking that a door was maybe being opened to permitting a liturgy which also allowed for moral ambiguity (however much it feels unreal to suggest that this aspect of my life and identity might be any more morally ambiguous than a straight person’s). But that door is rapidly slammed shut.

    The Report gives short paragraphs to deal with the supposed arguments of unidentified and unreferenced ‘supporters of the PLF’ in a way which suggests that they/we may not have been in the room at the time. These supporters ‘point to analogous liturgical acts which mark without enacting and bless without endorsing every moral dimension of the context’, like civic services and memorials (§33). If we bless at civic services and memorials without being seen to condone every aspect of what we are blessing, can we do the same here? Computer says no. ‘In these contexts, there are some fairly set cultural expectations within which the Church can navigate at such commemorative events’ (§33). Apparently, we are meant to understand that that could not possibly also be true for using the PLF, although that is not worked out for us. Indeed, so prone to confusion with marriage must the PLF be that clear differentiation from marriage would require ‘clarity of liturgical differentiation’ and ‘the willingness of Church leaders to undertake sustained theological communication’ (§35). Now, I enjoy a public lecture as much as the next theologian, but even I think that would be overkill before a church service.

    Apparently, just telling people that it isn’t a legal wedding, as clergy I know have done who have used PLF so far, would still leave everyone confused. I am unconvinced. LGBTQIA+ people know that the Church is ambivalent towards us, and if we don’t know anything we assume that the Church is actively hostile. But these arguments are rehearsed again in §§81-83 and §86, just to make sure you heard them if you happened to be reading quickly before a meeting. The “theological question” is then summed up in terms which appear entirely out of the blue, unconnected as they are to the argument in the rest of the Report:

    Theologically, the question posed by the public use of the PLF is not primarily about whether God’s grace is available to all. It is about how the Church responds lovingly to the hope of those who come before God and desire to show forth their praise in thanksgiving for what God has given them. (§88)

    Is it? It hasn’t felt like that’s the theological question in this theological briefing. There’s nothing about the hope of those who come before God to give thanks to God. Perhaps they left that bit out. And if we are morally ambiguous and not-to-be-condoned then it is hard in any case to see what there is to give thanks for to God in Church. Our evil ways? What a strange thing to say.

    3) Disagreement and Liturgical Diversity

    The Report deals in some depth with how liturgical diversity has been handled in the Church of England in the past. The liturgical text is not a ‘narrow prescription’ but rather ‘a framework capable of bearing diverse theological interpretations’ (§42). This is presented as maybe a good thing, though in that section on how the public received liturgy it seemed to be a bad thing. There is a delightfully idealistic statement that Canons A5 and B5 ‘protect the liturgy from becoming an instrument of theological partisanship and ensure its function as a shared act of worship grounded in common faith’ (§43). Perhaps the authors are wilfully unaware of the many parishes and network churches in the Church of England which never or almost never use authorised liturgy, even if technically they perhaps do something which could be defended as a Service of the Word. The Catholicisation of the liturgy in Common Worship has not been accepted throughout the Church of England, and A5 and B5 have not ensured liturgical unity. Why would we expect them to now? Comments commending the ‘structured plurality’ of ‘theological sensibilities and liturgical styles’ in the deployment of different Eucharistic prayers (§45) and reminding us that prayers are not ‘neutral containers into which new meanings may simply be poured’ (§47) do not accord with the reality of the breadth of theological positions on the eucharist which are now accommodated by Common Worship’s diversity of prayers (if Common Worship or the Book of Common Prayer are used at all in a parish or network church).

    There is then a rather confusing but impressive argument about the Ritual Controversy and the tension between ‘prescription, rubric, and enactment’ (§§50-57). It seems to be strongly implied that, unlike other times when there have been debates and movements for change, we are somehow walking into this without proper discernment. But if the gruelling process of LLF which has lasted for the entirety of my training and ordained ministry was not discernment, I don’t know what discernment would look like.

    Suddenly the Report raises the tone, almost comically, warning us:

    Episcopal guidance becomes critical: without clear episcopal teaching and supervision, the national coherence of liturgical practice – and the doctrinal witness it sustains – may be compromised. (§60)

    It is precisely in the act of translating these prayers into public worship that the theological and doctrinal stakes become most acute. (§85)

    I think that we are intended to hear the warning that the national coherence of liturgical practice may be compromised with the same concern as a warning that the hull of our submarine might be compromised. However, this is not how it lands. It is hard to get upset about the stable door needing shutting when the horse is galloping gaily away over the horizon.

    And the Report is quite direct that this is in fact the reality:

    The Church’s embrace of liturgical diversity has hitherto been sustained by theological agreement on the central matters of faith. Where disagreement has existed – on baptism, the Eucharist, or the nature of ordination – it has generally been held within a framework of authorised texts and common structures. (§63)

    This is an extraordinary admission, given the picture presented that the PLF risked tearing up a unified doctrinal-liturgical fabric. In fact, on minor and unimportant issues, not at all central in any way, like baptism, the Eucharist or Holy Orders, we already disagree. And that is apparently fine. However, we are reminded, lest again a door towards living with disagreement be opened to us, that:

    If liturgical practice is allowed to diverge from doctrinal principle, then the Church’s claim to be a confessing body – one that worships according to what it believes may be placed in jeopardy. (§64)

    Jeopardy. Well, as much as I would like everyone to be of one mind, the Report has already said that disagreement and divergence has happened over central issues, and the Church is still one body with one head, however many times we have disagreed, done different things, or even gone our separate ways. This just reads strangely, along with the warning that suddenly liturgical difference is something about which we should now be terrified into inaction, now that LGBTQIA+ people are involved. This aspect of the report reads like an attempt to create panic where no panic is necessary. Or, if it was necessary, it was probably necessary over the past 40 years, when our present liturgical divergence was taking root.

    (4) The Church’s Traditional Teaching on Marriage

    Do you remember that the purpose of this Report was meant to be to work out whether the PLF departed from the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage? You could be forgiven for having forgotten, having worked through all of this. The so-called “traditional doctrine of marriage” is first stated at §38, though this is only to establish how much this conflicts with the PLF which ‘suggests at least a degree of ecclesial affirmation of the relationship’ (§37). That the authors believe that the PLF constitute a departure from the “traditional doctrine of marriage” is not explored, only the implications of this finding.

    The unchallenged assumption that the unchanging doctrine of marriage in the Church of England is and has always been that it be between one man and one woman for life runs throughout the Report. At §22 and in footnote 9, a reference is made to GS Misc 1407, which was the Episcopal Reference Group’s paper on marriage and its accompanying compendium of sources. The compendium is interesting in that it gives a useful overview of the ways in which the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage and human sexuality has changed a lot, even as the Church has professed not to change our teaching or doctrine, only our pastoral practice. This change is now normal.

    We do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is between one man and one woman, or if we do we certainly have not believed that unchangingly or traditionally. The Lambeth Conferences of 1888 and 1988 came to exactly opposing conclusions about polygamy. We also do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is for life, given that remarriage of divorcees is now routine in the Church of England, and not reserved to the ‘exceptional circumstances’ envisaged by Marriage in the Church After Divorce (2003). It now seems only in really exceptional circumstances that marriage of heterosexual couples after divorce is ever denied.

    I certainly have never heard of public penance being done by heterosexual divorcees to make clear that the Church does not condone their remarriage before their service of thanksgiving. But the Report uses divorce as an example of another ‘morally ambiguous’ situation which the church does not bless (§19). It is made clear in the liturgy, apparently, that what is offered to divorcees is not a blessing. But I have never known that service to be referred to in any terms other than as a ‘wedding blessing’.

    Conclusion

    This Report is frustrating, and disturbing. It presents the PLF as something of a worst-case scenario, with the potential to detonate the hitherto integral liturgical unity of the Church of England. However, it is not balanced. It is not theologically consistent. And its arguments are at times obfuscatory and self-referential. It does not evaluate whether the PLF are consistent with the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage(s). But it does make it appear as fait accompli that the PLF are inconsistent in a way that suggests that the House of Bishops has no freedom to exercise their episcopal prerogative to authorise them. As such, this was a confusing and at times needlessly offensive Report to read.

  • The Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice

    by Michael Hampson, a published author devoting his early retirement from parish ministry to producing practical resources for busy clergy and lay-led congregations, beginning with the weekly lectionary resource Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, ssra.uk

    The Ten Parish benefice is coming – and it is sustainable. All it needs is people, and liturgy. We have both. All we lack is a decent liturgy book. So let’s make one.

    Oh, and there’s that word ‘eucharistic’. Let’s talk about that too. Spoiler: no lay presidency involved.

    Let’s start in Wales

    In the middle of a piece in Church Times nine days ago, surrounded by all the obvious and noisy things that people want to say about the new Archbishop of Wales, the three paragraphs that really matter are sitting quietly, waiting for their moment. “Between 2020 and 2023, Monmouth diocese underwent the pastoral reorganisation of 121 parishes into 16 ministry areas.” That’s an average of 7.5 parishes per Ministry Area. It’s page 2 in the print edition, or at this link online (where the three paragraphs are split into five).

    The Ten Parish Benefice – with a single priest – is coming. Wales has been honest about it, and made it explicit. But it’s coming in England too, in cities, towns and villages alike. Most people just haven’t admitted it yet.

    To quote very roughly – twice – from the gospel reading (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2012.49-56&version=NRSVA) that followed two days later, this is where we really should be reading the signs of the times. And it might be divisive, rather than peaceful, to say so. But if we take a deep breath and actually prepare for it – rather than turning a blind eye, or running around in ever-decreasing circles – we really can stop being so afraid.

    The Ten Parish Benefice has existed in corners of England already for well over a decade. Almost everyone’s trying to deny it. Save the Parish (www.savetheparish.com) can see it coming, but think that empowering parishes with information about legal rights, and trying to wrestle money from the powerful to the weak, will stop it happening. We can wish, but sadly, while justice may be on their side, I don’t think justice is going to prevail over the vested interests of the powerful. The Five-Ten-Fifteen-Twenty Parish Benefice is coming regardless. But Christ is Risen and the Holy Spirit is amongst the people, and that’s on top of God the Father being God the Father, and from time to time there’s even a priest in the benefice, so what exactly is supposed to be the problem?

    It was easier when we had some resources. When there was a Book of Common Prayer (BCP) in every parish church in every village (and a King James Bible and a bell, wasn’t that the official minimum list?) the churchwardens could keep the show on the road perfectly well in the absence of a priest; indeed that was both their right and their duty, and we trust was also their joy. Problem solved – even in a ten-parish benefice. Until the end of 1999, the Alternative Service Book (ASB) was just as comprehensive, better laid out and in (fairly) modern language – the entire Church of England in one hand – and the same principle applied: anyone could open it and keep the show on the road. And now, just when we need it the most, we have nothing. Common Worship (CW) is a scattering of loose papers that have blown away in the wind. Even most clergy (and *cough* most bishops) can’t find their way around the main volume, and most of what you need isn’t in there anyway. And the Ten Parish Benefice is coming. But don’t panic. It can be done.

    To the north of England

    When I started in a four-parish benefice in 2012, I maintained a pattern of services in every parish every Sunday, and very soon even persuaded three of the four to ensure that the service was at the same time every Sunday. With help from retired clergy, the vast majority of services were eucharistic. I did persuade myself that four was the limit, and five would be impossible. Six years later, I was actively negotiating to combine the four-parish benefice with the neighbouring benefice of six churches, to form a combined united benefice of ten, and for this I had the agreement in principle of all four parishes, and the departing half-time incumbent of the six, in order to proactively secure the future of the benefice before any less-considered alternative was imposed upon us. So what had we learned during those years that made the impossible seem possible, not only to me, but to four contented, and indeed enthusiastic, PCCs?

    Those paragraphs in the Church Times article conclude, “It wasn’t possible for every church to have their own vicar, because we don’t have enough vicars.” But all four parishes in that four-parish benefice knew they had a vicar, because they had learned how to make the model work.

    A vicar in every parish

    I ran PCC meetings like they were house-groups. In the smaller parishes the PCC was like a full congregation meeting anyway. After a year or two, I realised “minutes and matters arising” could bog down the meeting early on, so I put “mission and ministry” as a standing agenda item before “minutes and matters arising”. I now realise the agenda was similar to those parishes that have a short service before PCC, except that we were having a short house-group meeting first, to discuss where we were up to as a parish, that month. They knew they had a parish priest. They knew they were cared for. And they knew it would continue the same, even if they were one of ten. I prioritised this as the heart of my ministry. It was the way I kept in touch with all the key lay folks. I held the larger churches’ PCCs monthly (so they would only take an hour, which delighted everyone); the others every six or eight weeks. The people are the resource: a PCC run like this is where you meet the people, and help keep the church joyful, focussed, and full of life.

    A weekly Sunday service in every parish

    BCP provided a straightforward model that made a weekly Sunday service sustainable in every parish even in the absence of the vicar: it mandated that the layfolk (specifically the churchwardens) would lead the service; and within its covers, it provided everything they would need to do so; ASB was just as comprehensive. Mandating, encouraging, and supporting the layfolk to lead the service should be just as straightforward in 2025 as it was in 1662; the only tragedy is that we haven’t had a decent practical liturgy book for the last 25 years.

    Making the liturgy sustainable across four parishes began with the Sunday morning readings. BCP gave us collect, epistle and gospel for every Sunday, clearly set out, easy to find, but in archaic language and in solid blocks of text. ASB gave us the same, with improvements to layout, and readings in a mixture of RSV and three paraphrases: the Jerusalem Bible, the New English Bible, and the Good News Bible (under its earlier name Today’s English Version, TEV). Common Worship gives us nothing. Every lay person in the church is dependent on the vicar, and every vicar is dependent on a paid subscription, and even then has to choose week by week from a bewildering list of unexplained (and to most, incomprehensible) options, and then choose a translation, and then source the readings, and then print them out, and then distribute them to the lay folks, and then… what on earth have we done?

    I have spoken to two of the people involved in compiling the programme: one about the multiple errors I had spotted (which Synod later had to correct – it turned out that they knew about them but angrily blamed others in the group on a partisan basis); and one who was blissfully unaware that CW deviates at all from Revised Common Lectionary, when CW actually deviates from RCL more than any other implementation of the three-year cycle anywhere in Christendom.

    When I started, the four parishes were subscribing to the independently-produced Redemptorist Anglican Mass Sheets, but those didn’t have our patronal festivals or harvests, and more and more often I was producing sheets locally to replace the ones that arrived from Redemptorist, and ssra.uk began to evolve: ultimately an all-new implementation of the three-year lectionary, in an all-new translation; first just for us, now for the whole church.

    I added to this a locally-produced service book, and placed one in every church, with just the parts you need, but all the parts you need, including a good selection of triple-kyrie confessions, all the collects, introductions to the Peace, seasonal prefaces, eucharistic and post-communion prayers, seasonal blessings; 55 pages in all, including all our local patronals and harvests, in a user-friendly format and a top-quality binding. Other clergy look at it jealously. I would like to offer something similar to the wider church. I wrote a week ago by email to the relevant copyright holders; I await acknowledgements and replies.

    Power to the people…

    This service book made my job easier from week to week, but the question hanging in the air is how it became empowering for the laity. And here lies the final element in making the Ten Parish Benefice sustainable. We can make the resources. We also have to let the people use them.

    There are two realistic options for a meaningful weekly liturgical Sunday service in every parish in the absence of a priest: antecommunion, and Holy Communion by Extension. People often don’t want to gather at a different time or on a different day. So the lay-folks can read antecommunion – that’s the communion service as far as the Peace. It qualifies as “a service of the word”. It maintains continuity with the liturgy of the benefice, and the worldwide church both catholic and ecumenical. It’s a substantial biblical and prayerful liturgy, sustaining for regulars, and welcoming for newcomers. Every parish can do this. All they need is a decent lectionary (ssra.uk) and a decent liturgy book (watch this space).

    …for the Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice

    Cherry Vann, the new Archbishop of Wales, says, “at least with [the Monmouth] model every church gets a eucharist at least once a month, some of them get twice a month, some of them get four times a month.”

    If they can have a priest that often, that’s great; and they should. But there’s absolutely no reason why they shouldn’t have communion every Sunday in between as well.

    That’s the point of Holy Communion by Extension.

    If you read the official 2001 House of Bishops statement on Communion by Extension, it is clear that it took a lot to get anything at all past a group encompassing bishops with eucharistic theology doggedly protestant – almost anti-eucharistic – as well as sky-high catholic. But churches throughout the land keep the reserved sacrament. Using the reserved sacrament to give communion to the people when the parish priest is away is normal practice in the Roman Catholic church, and quite probably therefore in many Roman-rite parishes in the Church of England as well, courtesy of the infinite elasticity of Canon B5, under which every Roman-rite parish, and every totally non-liturgical charismatic-evangelical parish, survives.

    The model envisaged in 2001 – that some poor soul has to go to early communion somewhere and rush fresh sacrament to the Communion-by-Extension parish (as if nobody else owns a car or an alarm clock) is bizarre and surely undignified in comparison to giving the people communion from the reserved sacrament. In the four-parish benefice, the two parishes that had never reserved before immediately understood the etiquette to be kept around reserving the sacrament and worked out an appropriately dignified regime.

    Most liturgies of Communion by Extension go to great lengths to ensure that no part of the service looks like what might clumsily be called ‘the consecration’, lest the laity become ‘confused’. The House of Bishops 2001 text allows a version of the institution narrative to be read at the beginning of the service only, and one other vaguely-eucharistic bible passage to be chosen, to be read later, in place of the eucharist prayer. This is like replacing a joyful hymn of praise, and centuries of carefully-crafted expression of all that surrounds the eucharistic mystery, with some sparse early draft jottings on the subject, ‘lest the laity become confused’ by what they see and hear. I say, don’t be so utterly patronising. The laity will most certainly not be ‘confused’ by a simple explanation such as this, at the offertory: “In the absence of our vicar (who is leading a service elsewhere this morning), we bring gifts of bread and wine which have already been present on the altar at an earlier service of holy communion led by our vicar. We remind ourselves now of the words which will have been used at that earlier service.” Our Anglican theology rightly acknowledges the eucharist to be a mystery, and best expresses that mystery in the words that we have agreed to use together, from the Book of Common Prayer to Common Worship. What better than to remind ourselves of those words as we participate in the very particular mystery that is Communion by Extension, a service that expresses our unity with our benefice and our parish priest, as well as each other and the worldwide and eternal church; not ‘saying’ those words in the particular way that the president said them, just – um – reminding ourselves of what was said. The eucharist is a mystery anyway; the laity understand that Holy Communion by Extension is somehow different, but somehow also participating in one and the same. Feel free to go sit in an ivory tower and tie yourself in a knot over this, while one ten-parish benefice crumbles, and this one thrives. Our laity are not confused; they are prayerful, grateful, and fully understand that they are in the presence of the profound mystery of the eucharist.

    Whether any part of our vast, powerful, and wealthy church hierarchy will capture any part of this vision, I simply cannot know. Our bishops, our General Synod, our liturgical commission, and our diocesan offices, have brought us to where we are. A challenge lies ahead, and it isn’t clear that the needs of ordinary parishes are high on the agenda; they just get combined into ever-larger benefices, and left to sink or swim. So lobby where you can; and in the meantime, maybe take Canon B5, and the fact that nobody’s looking, and step out and do what needs to be done. SSRA.uk is there to help – promote it where you can. Perhaps a liturgy book will follow soon; and in the meantime, for collects at least – handy tip – it’s page 268 onwards in Canada.

    The Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice is possible. As far as I can tell, so far, it’s either this, or it’s nine (or ten) empty churches. Which will it be?

     

     

     

  • Liturgical Business? Canon B2, the Calendar, and Prayers of Love and Faith

    Sammi Tooze is a member of General Synod, a member of the Liturgical Commission, and the diocesan contact for Together in York Diocese

    When General Synod meets later this week, we find ourselves dipping into the canonical waters of Liturgical Business. This will be the first piece of formal Liturgical Business many of us will have participated in, as it’s the first occasion this Quinquennium that it’s found itself on our agenda. The proposal before Synod will be to add two entries to our Common Worship Calendar: a Festival of God the Creator and a Commemoration of the Twenty-One Martyrs of Libya.

    But why the Calendar, and why only two additions? One of the treasures of our Calendar is the framework it offers us for spiritual journeying, a pilgrimage of heart and mind through the spiral of the liturgical year. As we follow the cycle, we encounter God and God’s story, and are changed by it. In the Calendar, we also encounter the stories of saints – days intentionally set aside to remember holy people who have gone before us in faith. On their appointed days, we not only recall their names but reflect on how their journey of faith, in all its joys and challenges and messiness, inspires and shapes our own lived-faith today.

    So who decides which holy people appear in our Calendar? Roughly every ten years, the House of Bishops requests that the Liturgical Commission reviews and revises the Calendar. It is widely recognised that at this point in time, the Calendar is ready for revision, in part to review gender and racial balance, but also to discern any people who have departed this life long enough to now be considered. In order to be included in the Calendar, a person must have died at least 50 years previously – unless they are a martyr – which is why people like Florence Li Tim-Oi, Desmond Tutu and the late Queen are unable to be considered under the current rules. Having said that, the guidance issued in February 2025 under GS Misc 1409 reminds us of the flexibility we have with local commemorations, offering opportunity for each of us to integrate people such as these locally to enrich the spiritual lives of our communities.

    Back to July’s Synod. GS 2408 notes that

    The Commission resolved in May 2023 that … preparatory work is undertaken to enable a substantial revision of the Common Worship Calendar in the next synodical quinquennium

    and:

    Another part of this preparatory work for a more in-depth revision of the Calendar is the current ‘pilot’ item of liturgical business … This item will reintroduce Synod to the procedures of liturgical business after a period of ten years, which will be in itself a helpful learning exercise.

    Why is this a “learning exercise”? Because, ever since the Common Worship Calendar was created as an alternative to the Calendar in the Book of Common Prayer, any revision must be done as Liturgical Business under Canon B2. This Canon is used for any liturgical material created where an alternative provision already exists, and the current Synod has not been exposed to such a situation.

    And it’s this which is the key distinguishing point between what we will be doing with the revision of the Calendar, and the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF). In the case of the PLF, this is a new resource, created specifically because no alternative material exists. It therefore doesn’t need to go through a B2 process in the same way as the Calendar, simply because it is not being offered as an alternative to existing liturgical material. There simply aren’t existing worship materials to which the PLF are an ‘alternative’.

    In the early stages of developing the PLF, there were many canonical routes presented as options to either ‘authorise’, ‘commend’ or ‘approve’ the PLF material. It was concluded that the House of Bishops would commend the material under Canon B5, initially to be used within existing regular acts of worship. So, when the House of Bishops commended this material for use across the Church of England, this was a clear statement that they do not present us with a departure from Doctrine.

    The use of B5 rather than B2 is important, because under a B5 process there is no requirement for a two-thirds majority vote in the three Houses of Synod. To amend the Common Worship Calendar, B2 is needed, and so we need those majorities and therefore that full synodical process of Liturgical Business.

    Synod has voted for the PLF also to be used in ‘bespoke’ or ‘standalone’ services – in fact, the suggestion of bespoke services was made after the original LLF vote took place, at a point when Synod was of the understanding that this vote would enable the resources to be used in their entirety. One objection being raised is whether a bespoke service may ‘look’ more like a wedding. Would that make it be a departure from Doctrine, requiring a B2 process and thus a two-thirds majority vote in all three Houses? It is worth reminding ourselves of one key thing here. Neither the existing commended PLF resources, nor the proposed bespoke services, have any rubrics relating to these aesthetics – what people ought to wear, who to invite, how the church may be decorated, whether bells are rung or flowers held. This means that the suggestion that a bespoke service may ‘look’ different to a regular act of worship incorporating PLF is difficult to understand as a reasoned argument, as even in a regular act of worship a couple may invite friends to celebrate with them, and may choose to dress in a certain way. And, of course, the prayers themselves are just the same; the material for a bespoke service simply offers a structure by which the already commended material can be used. Theologically these blessings are the same; it’s just that one is pre-timetabled, and the other isn’t. In itself, a bespoke service does not suggest anything more of a departure from doctrine than does a regular service where the PLF are used.

    With this in mind, with the material already commended demonstrating that it is not a departure from Doctrine, we can be confident too that bespoke services will meet the same requirements. So, noting that they are not offering an alternative to an existing resource, we do not need to use precious synodical time and resource to put them through a Canon B2 process. Synod has voted for the PLF to be used in ‘bespoke’ services too, and they can continue to be offered under Canon B5 as commended material by the House of Bishops.

     

     

     

  • We used to Have Liturgy: Now we Have Bureaucracy

    by Michael Hampson, a published author devoting his early retirement from parish ministry to producing practical resources for busy clergy and lay-led congregations, beginning with the weekly lectionary resource Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, ssra.uk

    From the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549, the Church of England was a church defined by its liturgy.

    The legislative arguments over PLF continue as though that’s still the case. But it isn’t.

    We are no longer a church defined by liturgy. Out in the real world – in the parishes – we haven’t had a common liturgy for years.

    What dominates the life of the parishes – and makes us all Anglicans – is not a shared liturgy, but a shared bureaucracy.

    For hundreds of years, the Book of Common Prayer defined the Church of England. You could hold it in your hand (less than one inch thick, less than A6 in size) and know that you had the entire Church of England right there, in your hand: the catechism, the calendar, morning and evening prayer, the eucharist, baptism, confirmation, marriage, ordination (bishops, priests and deacons), the burial of the dead, the 39 Articles, the full text of the readings for the Sunday eucharist, and even oddments like prayers for use at sea, and for the anniversary of the accession of the sovereign; the entire church, in one small book.

    It needed updating. 1928 was a wrong turn: archaic language, too internally political, too verbose. But the Second Vatican Council (1962 to 1965) set a new tone, internationally and ecumenically. The 1973 English-language Roman missal gave us a fresh new language for liturgy, and the foundations for the Church of England’s experimental services Series 3, published the same year. After many years of careful real-life testing and feedback, and supplemented by pieces commissioned from actual poets that are still amongst the best-loved pieces of poetic liturgy today (“Father of all, we give you thanks and praise…”), ASB 1980 replicated the high ambitions of BCP 1662: the entire Church of England, defined by its liturgy, renewed, in one book. The pages were slightly larger, the book was now thicker, but the layout and the language were fresh and accessible, and everything was there, from the complete text of the Sunday lectionary to the ordination of bishops, priests and deacons, via the eucharist for every season, baptism for every context, and morning prayer, evening prayer and eucharist for every day of the year; the entire Church of England, in one small book. Anyone could hold it in their hand. It belonged to all of us, to everyone. Hundreds of thousands of copies were bought by the parishes. Gold-edged copies, bound in white leather, were presented at baptisms and confirmations. A church, defined by its liturgy.

    How we got to where we are today is a story for another day; write your own version. But look at us now. Common Worship is not a book, or even a bookshelf, or even a bookshop, but a boundary-less concept, consisting of mismatched publications in different formats, corrections and revisions and supplements to those publications only ever issued as General Synod documents, some in PDF format, others in DOCX or HTML, plus various sections of different websites, apps, annual publications, and more besides if you want to try Google. Fine, if you have the time to spare. What are lay people, or enquirers on the brink of coming to faith, supposed to make of it all? We used to have liturgy; now we have bureaucracy. On Sunday at church, expect a photocopied leaflet; or possibly no liturgy at all. Even bishops don’t know where it begins and ends. Churchwardens haven’t a hope.

    But it’s more than just the loss of our liturgy. Where liturgy once held the Church of England together, something else holds the Church of England together instead; and that’s a huge bureaucracy. For every two-and-a-half full-time parish clergy, there’s a full-time-equivalent diocesan post: someone beavering away doing something at the regional office. All these huge, enormously expensive diocesan operations have emerged from nowhere over the last sixty years. Perhaps they are all doing valuable Christian work by some definition, but they are often hugely partisan, and only very weakly related – if at all – to a church once defined by its parishes and its liturgy. And having emerged from nowhere, these powerful partisan bureaucracies, linked to the national institutions, are now the only thing holding us together.

    At the end of the year 2000 – as the authorisation of ASB 1980 expired – the Church Times carried a cartoon, presumably intended to mock the Prayer Book Society, or at least to mock the idea of nostalgia in general. The caption ran: In 2295AD, the annual meeting of the ASB Society was held on one of Jupiter’s moons. But I think that’s me. Because ASB was replaced by nothing, nothing at all. Someone in clergy chapter pointed out at the time that ASB morning and evening prayer had technically become unauthorised without being replaced, so legally BCP was the only option (or perhaps Patterns for Worship?). I thought of him as a pedant; he was actually the canary in the mine, warning of a future where nobody in authority, or anywhere else, cared about common liturgy any more. Four and a half centuries of a church defined by its liturgy were over. They were over that day – the day that ASB’s authorisation expired – and he was the only one that both noticed and cared.

    Amongst the many losses, when ASB 1980 expired, was the use of adventurous bible translations. The set readings for Sunday’s Holy Communion, printed out in full in ASB, included readings from translations like The Jerusalem Bible, The New English Bible, and The Good News Bible (credited as TEV, Today’s English Version) – whichever the compilers thought best for the particular passage. Common Worship provides no texts and gives no guidance. Two editions of Common Worship’s adaptation of the widely-adopted Three-Year Lectionary were published independently, one in NRSV and one in NIV, both rather clunky study translations compared to JB, NEB and TEV, neither of them always ideal for reading out-loud at length from the lectern. Both the NRSV edition and the NIV edition are now long out-of-print. And the English language moves on: just as ASB 1980 was behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the human race almost as soon as it was published, so even the latest revised editions of NRSV and NIV are behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the divine. We are left with no common liturgy, and not even a decent bible. Sign me up for the team to work on ASB 2030. We’ll include a marriage service that works without reference to the gender of the partners. And choose which of these versions of this coming Trinity Sunday’s Gospel reading we might prefer (Year C, John 16.12-15):

    ‘I still have many things to say to you – more than you can know. But the Spirit of Truth will come to you, and guide you into all truth; honouring me, by taking what is mine, and making it known to you; disclosing to you the things that are to come. All that the Father has is mine; and the Spirit of Truth will take what is mine, and make it known to you.’ [ssra.uk]

    ‘I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.’ [NIV – 11 male pronouns]

    ‘I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.’ [NRSV – 8 male pronouns]

    (For reference, the word pneuma here, in the original Greek, translated Spirit, has no gender.)

    Meanwhile, the battle over PLF continues, using bureaucratic legislation as if we were still a church defined by liturgy. But take a look around, out in the real world, in the parishes. We haven’t been a church with a common liturgy for the whole of this century. And the PLF texts themselves are unworthy: there are better ones already in use in Wales, or available from scratch in seconds on ChatGPT. So the argument is not even about liturgy, in reality; the argument is about who can control that huge bureaucracy.

    If we can step back from the ongoing argument, the real question is: who are we, really? That’s the energy that’s powering the argument. I have spent my entire ministry, from ordination at the age of 24 to early retirement at 54, under the ‘promise’ that the recognition and blessing of same-sex relationships in the Church of England was/is effectively just months away. A report, commissioned by the House of Bishops, recommending exactly that, was suppressed by the same House of Bishops that commissioned it, while I was at theological college. That’s effectively my entire adult life. The real argument isn’t about authorising a few dreadful unusable prayers; it’s about ‘who we are, really’. That’s why my personal choice has been to devote my early retirement not to fighting the bureaucracy, but to crafting good liturgy; and to beginning at the very heart of it, with scripture. In standing back to take a breath, I realise that in the SSRA Complete Three-Year Lectionary, newly (beautifully) printed and published, we have something we haven’t had since ASB 1980: a complete lectionary with texts, printed out in full, specifically intended for reading aloud; except that this time they are also well laid out on the page, and of course in a properly inclusive-language translation – unlike even the very latest versions of NIV and NRSV. Our bureaucratic church hasn’t paid attention to such things for 45 years. The grand short-lived renewal schemes that come out of our regional and national bureaucracies with seasonal regularity tragically have this one thing in common: they never have anything to say about Sunday liturgy, which is still where ordinary Christian people (remarkably, and perhaps defiantly!) commit, week by week, to learning and growing in faith.

    So maybe I’m quietly working on an ASB 2030 just because nobody else is, and having SSRA in print and online is a major start. You might want to use its Gospel reading on Trinity Sunday. And then why not stick with it for the summer and beyond. Good Sunday liturgies, good words, even well-printed books: they matter. Once they’re in place, they’re just there, dependable and reliable. And they dependably and reliably both welcome and sustain.

     

    (Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud: The Complete Three Year Lectionary is available in three print editions, and free online, here)