CHAPTER 1
Bearings
"The Usual Thing"
It was 1996 and I was as new as a bishop could be. The episcopal waters wereeven less charted for me because I had never had the advantage of being acoadjutor or suffragan and had spent the previous eight years as a professorwith only part-time duties in a very small parish. To add to the generaluncertainty on this occasion, Diana and I were visiting a parish that had norector or interim rector. Nonetheless, the liturgy got started and seemed to gowell enough through sermon, confirmation, and peace. Then came the offertory.The table was set. Everything suddenly came to dead halt. Clearly something wasexpected from me before the offertory concluded, yet there was nothing inobvious need of blessing, elevating, or touching. People started to stare. Iwhispered to the deacon who always accompanies me to "find out what comes next."He inquired, and returned somewhat distraught with the message, "He says to dothe usual thing."
"The usual thing" has in the following decade become code between us forsituations in which we have no idea what is going to happen and no way offinding out. While we no longer worry about it very much and do go with theflow, a little sting remains, and now I cannot help but smile when I readliturgical guides that say that the liturgy "continues in the usual way."
After my jaw returned to its full upright position I simply plunged into theeucharistic dialogue, without learning what I had left out. I am comfortableenough in my role these days to just go over to somebody else and ask what is tohappen, but the "usual thing" experience that day in church prompted severalresolutions.
The first was that I would always discuss with the rector or person in charge ofeach parish what happens in the key action areas that the rubrics do notexplain, such as entrances, censings, offertory, the version of the Lord'sPrayer to be used, and the preparation of vessels for communion.
The second was the decision to provide all parishes with an outline("customary") of how things would flow insofar as that is my decision, leavingroom for what is distinctive in the life of each parish. Priests and musicianshave been very grateful to have detailed customaries, especially since thosedocuments invite them to respond with questions or points where what I proposeis not useful or not possible in their space.
We are a western church. Liturgically this has never been more true than it isin the wake of the majority of the reforms of 1979, despite the revival of a fewancient eastern texts. The original spirit of the western liturgy is simplicityand clarity, almost austerity. Recapturing this spirit was the major work of thelast century's reforms in Roman, Lutheran, and Episcopal liturgy. Creative andcrisp liturgy, fully expressive but without wasted time or pointless movement,happens most easily when bishops and parishes plan together and together form asense of the arc of that day's celebration. Bishops know what they hope willhappen on a given visit; the parish often has a list of things they wish toexpress or celebrate. These conceptions need to meet. Some bishops reportmeeting personally with the rector a month before the visitation to plan it indetail.
One factor that makes planning complex is the existence of those two sets ofexpectations. The other is that spatially no two Episcopal church buildings arethe same. Thus, although it would make life simpler, one cannot provide anexhaustive point-by-point cook book with an all-inclusive recipe for everyepiscopal liturgy in every circumstance, as all writers concede. The specimencustomaries provided at the end of this book are only that, specimens: eachcustomary will need to be adjusted or totally replaced, depending on localcircumstances. In addition to the limitations just mentioned, it is true thatthe prayer book provides too many textual options for one formula to fit all.Finally, the freedom enjoyed in our churches in how the simple ceremonialdirections of the prayer book are to be carried out makes every liturgicalexperience something between adventure and nightmare for those who only rarelypreside at liturgy in the same place two Sundays in a row. Thus a word aboutitinerancy seems in order.
A Wandering Minstrel, Host and Guest
None of this would matter if the bishop's appearance in a parish were simplythat of a magnified supply priest or visiting dignitary. Neither is the case,however, and bishops live the identity of both host and guest at visitationliturgies. In North America we experience something historically andgeographically rare in Anglicanism (and something not contemplated by otherchurches possessed of the episcopate, historic or otherwise). We expect that onSundays bishops will be preaching and celebrating in the parishes in their care.It should be said in fairness that the bishops of the Roman Catholic andOrthodox Churches would be shocked to learn that there are churches such as ourswhich do not observe the ancient norm of the bishop presiding and preaching inthe cathedral on the Lord's Day.
Rather than visiting firefighter or interesting guest speaker, the bishop comesto visit in a number of ways that have liturgical consequence.
The first is that in her own person the bishop comes as the one who has ultimatepastoral responsibility for the parish, so the weight of the event is different:the family table is fuller. Furthermore, because the bishop is by ordination andcanon the chief evangelist and pastor of the diocese, the assembly rightlyexpects an extraordinary word of gospel proclamation and a genuine interest inits own mission. As one bishop put it, "I had to learn a new way to preach."
The second is that in these liturgies the bishop is joined at the table by thelocal presbyters who are the bishop's first-line colleagues. Certainly everyliturgy on every occasion should look and feel like a team effort of the entireassembly. But when the bishop and colleagues stand together at the table it isto demonstrate that clergy are also part of a team of colleagues—there are to beno Lone Rangers or Wonder Women hiding inside collars. The visitation is a goodtime to enact ritually the truth that presbyters are not ordained because thebishop cannot be everywhere: presbyters are ordained so that the bishop'sministry can indeed be everywhere. According to the formularies of this Church,presbyters and bishops form one thing, a college in which no member actsindependently or arbitrarily. The more we enact this truth liturgically the morewe may come to inhabit it effectually. When liturgists speak of a norm, they donot refer to what necessarily happens as a rite is routinely celebrated, but tothe characteristics of the rite in its fullness. The norm, the fullestexpression, of the eucharist is the gathering of all the people together withtheir bishop, priests, and deacons as a community of the altar. This is theoriginal meaning of the circumadstantes in the old Roman canon, all those"standing around" the holy table.
The third factor is that very often the presence of the bishop means thatseldom-seen liturgical rites (confirmation, blessings of chrism, churchbuildings and equipment) are celebrated. Questions will arise about how much ofthese rites require explanation, and how and when that explanation is given.Some dioceses provide bulletin inserts explaining the occasion; others rely onrectors to prepare the parish for what it will experience. All should relax withthe idea that no one will be out of the building in an hour, just as we knowthat Thanksgiving dinner lasts longer than the usual family meal.
The fourth is that the presence of the bishop is meant to connect the parishwith the larger community of which it is a part, so the liturgy ought to feel alittle different. The parish ought to become aware that its table is part of alarger board. This task is becoming more difficult because increasing numbers oflaity and clergy in the church are from non-episcopal or non-liturgicaltraditions and really have very little grasp of our ecclesiology. Thisconnection is not necessarily made by liturgical grandeur or reproducingcathedral liturgy in a wayside chapel: Aida performed in a shoebox can neveredify, and such events ought not be attempted. However, the slight alterationsin text (for example, the episcopal blessing), the number of people involved,the overall thickening of context, and in most cases the increase in vesture andinsignia, create the sense of contact with what is not normally quite so much apart of consciousness: each parish is, as Bishop Claude Payne brilliantly said,a missionary outpost of the diocesan effort to follow Jesus and make him known.Beyond this, if the postmodern movement succeeds in its announced agenda ofincreasing our sensitivity to mystery, all these shifts in context and contentshould enhance the ability of the episcopal visitation to help the parish feelmore deeply its connection to the matrix in which its ministry is situated.
Finally, since it is a special occasion and involves the chief pastor, therewill be anxiety, despite the bishop's attempt to put everyone at ease. Some ofthat anxiety is part of the fun: people are doing something special and wouldlike what they have planned to come off well; they want to look their best—inevery culture it is what people do when company comes. The poor of thedeveloping nations have a great deal to teach most of us about celebration inthis very respect. I have deliberately used the word fun. Until the joy ofknowing and praising God in the community of the redeemed is a species of fun,liturgy will fall flat.
There is a freeing word in all of this: given all the variety of place andcircumstance that faces the visiting bishop, the bishop can be assured thatalmost no liturgy will go exactly right—these are live performances as comparedwith studio recordings, where every track can be endlessly revised until aperfect sound is produced. While we care and we try, the goal is to get from thebeginning to the end in a way that enacts the drama, assuming all the while theimperfection of our service. Public displays of irritation over mistakes made byliturgical assistants have in fact had far-reaching consequences; unkind wordsuttered during the liturgy have been known to propel people out of what fragilerelationship with God they had been able to maintain. Custody of the eyesincludes not rolling them.
We cannot resolve here the enormous tension between catholic ideal andcongregationalist reality that complicates pastoral and liturgical life in theEpiscopal Church. Those tensions play themselves out differently according tothe diocese, bishop, rector, and parish involved in a given visitation. We cantry to respond to what each place could reasonably expect of its bishop and tohonor the integrity of their community. The more challenging part is to do thatwhile not becoming someone other than one's self, maintaining integrity andself-definition while respecting theirs.
Seldom does this mean conscientiously doing something unfamiliar to a parish ordeclining to do something people are used to. More commonly it means trying tomaintain a persona that is genuinely and recognizably oneself no matter thecircumstances, the episcopal version of the Stoic ideal. This is as important inpreaching as it is in presiding: if the presence and voice in the pulpit aresignificantly different from the presence and voice in the sacristy or parishhall, nobody is fooled or helped. True transparency in preaching and prayercomes from lack of affectation. This applies doubly in the liturgy, where theaffected voice or unnatural gesture can betray the cleavage in the presider'sown soul and disorient the worshiper. If necessary, it is well to pretend to beunaffected and grow into it! Youth are not beguiled by old people trying tospeak more than a word or two of their language. They develop their languageprimarily to separate themselves from their elders.
In the film noir Dead Again, defrocked psychiatrist Robin Williams gives adviceto gumshoe Kenneth Brannagh, who is trying to quit smoking but seemingly cannot.Williams tells him that ultimately there are smokers and non-smokers,concluding, "Find out what you are and be that." There are bishops whose styleand presence I admire profoundly, but for a host of reasons cannot emulate, andI must live with that. I can never be mesmerizing or very extroverted, but I canbe unaffectedly my best self. Liturgy works when the presider addresses God andthe assembly from the core of the relationship she actually has with each.
It follows then that the maintenance of our own spiritual life will shape ourstyle of liturgical presidency. As our lives enter ever further into themystery, our leadership of worship may evolve towards a rich simplicity. In themovie just mentioned, I think Williams' line is meant to propel Brannagh'scharacter into choosing who he will be, an essentially spiritual decision.Surely they who wish to lead liturgy effectively will be propelled into a placewhere their own spirituality deepens. Far too much in the episcopate can driveus away from our spiritual foundations, with personally and liturgically harmfuleffect. The last thing one wants to be is a technician of the sacred, personallyalienated from that which is celebrated. The one genuinely poignant moment inthe somewhat busy pilot episode of TV's "The Book of Daniel" occurred whenDaniel asks Jesus, seated beside him in his Volvo wagon, if the Lord also speaksto his father, the bishop. There is a beat and Jesus wistfully says, "I usedto."
I was traveling with an Englishman who said of someone on our ship, "He combinesthe arrogance of a surgeon and the vanity of a bishop." He was unaware of myprofession, so the words had special impact. Not all surgeons are arrogant andnot all bishops are vain, but each profession certainly offers manifoldtemptation along those lines. I leave the medical profession to tend its ownissues but can assert that the deference paid to bishops along with certainaspects of our liturgical life can tempt one to a pernicious species of vanity.Daily self-examination is necessary in this regard. A serious impediment toeffective liturgical leadership is, as innumerable ordination sermons mention,letting the mitre go to one's head. I have found repeated reading of ThomasCahill's Pope John XXIII (New York: Penguin, 2002) a great help fighting thisbattle, both for the good example it celebrates and the many horrific tales ittells from church history.
Given that what follows in this book resembles something between a recipecollection and a football playbook, the reader may indulge my recalling that oureffective liturgical presence will never exceed our own spirituality as it isdisciplined by preparation and communal planning. The spirituality of a groupcannot exceed that of its leader. If the leader puts on the persona of a gameshow host, the assembly will degenerate into an audience. Put another way, thefundamental itinerancy of our bishops and the relative fluidity of parishliturgical practices necessitate the bishop's having a clear sense of self andleading worship from that clearly defined self. It also necessitates everyone'sbeing in on the plan and allowing themselves to be who they are and can be inChrist.
Liberating Constraints
A bishop told me regarding this project, "I wish somebody had told me that it ismore important to lead the worship of the people of God than it is to do thingsright." I found that statement profoundly true on one hand and a bit curious onthe other. I agree that the focus of liturgical ministry must be on worship ofthe Father in the name of Jesus and the power of the Spirit. My colleague iscertainly right to point out that when one lets go of performance anxiety orworse, any fixation on doing things right for obsessive-compulsive reasons, theliturgical event can come alive. At the same time, leading worship is itself aliturgy—a word that actually means work done for the sake of others. What isdone for others requires skill, love, and effort. Six parts sincerity to onepart "it's how I felt" is an entirely appropriate attitude for any activity oflife—when there is nobody else in the room. When any activity is public thereare some liberating constraints that I would like to observe.
