The Book of Common Prayer: History, Doctrine, Revision, Material History

By The Rev. Matthew S. C. Olver, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of Liturgics and Pastoral Theology

History 

The Christians that emerged out of the sixteenth century gathered around various foci. For Lutherans, it was Martin Luther and his writings; for others in Europe, it was the emphasis on the action of reformation (such as the Dutch Reformed Church). But for those in the Church of England, the reform meant that it identified itself by its physical location . . . which turns out to be quite a catholic impulse. 

Just as close to this tradition’s heart was a book. We often forget how much of this is due to a few strange accidents of history. The movable-type printing press was only 100 years old, for one, when the first Book of Common Prayer was published in 1549, so the possibility of books such as this was still relatively new. Second, Henry’s decision to break from Rome to secure his divorce occurred at a time when a whole constellation of impulses for reform, both inside and outside England, had begun to gather force. And the separation made possible a great deal more reform than Henry himself had desired. 

What is maybe most shocking to us is that the possibility of liturgical uniformity in any meaningful sense—of “common prayer” through a common text—really only became possible in the sixteenth century. It was uniquely possible in England because it was an island (and a relatively small one, at that) where the Crown had a firm political grip. And where it did not, it brought in mercenaries from Europe to help impose the new Prayer Book wherever it met resistance. 

Maybe just as surprising is that liturgical uniformity came much more quickly in England than in Catholic Europe. The Council of Trent, called as a response to the sixteenth-century reformations, directed that a new missal for the Mass be promulgated, precisely for the same reason the prayer book was produced: uniformity in the wake of much liturgical diversity. But the English king was better able to implement his goal than the Pope: it took nearly 150 years for the new Roman Missal to become normative. In contrast, after the upheavals of 1549-59, the BCP was basically normative everywhere in England until the execution of Charles I in 1649. This couldn’t have occurred prior to the sixteenth century.

Doctrine

We sometimes talk as if Anglicans have a purchase on the adage lex orandi, lex credendi (even though is not exactly what Proper of Aquitaine said!), but we must remember that no other Christian tradition that had a written liturgy thinks the doctrine expressed in its liturgy is something they can toss out. Nonetheless, liturgy had a special place in the life of the Church of England because it did not take the route of other reformation traditions in that it did not create a comprehensive catechism or confession (like the Westminster Confession or the Heidelberg Catechism). The 39 Articles addressed first some central doctrinal matters, and then matters of controversy at the time—beginning with Catholics and then with various Protestant bodies. Yet a whole host of items was not addressed in the articles; in fact, probably most questions about Anglican beliefs cannot be answered by turning to the Articles. Instead, doctrine was presented in the Prayer Book itself—in the Ordinal (the form for consecrating Bishops, Priests, and Deacons), and in the Canon Law of the Church of England (which remained relatively unreformed until almost 100 years after the break with Rome). Thus, because it has neither an active teaching magisterium as in Roman Catholicism, nor a comprehensive doctrinal confessional statement as in the reformation churches of continental Europe, the Prayer Book by default carries a great deal of doctrinal weight. 

Revision

This (beside the issue of having one’s liturgy changed, always both spiritually and practically disruptive) is why the revision of the Book of Common Prayer is such a significant event. The Church of England has seen five iterations of the BCP (1549, 1552, 1559, 1604, and 1662, plus Common Worship in past decades); the American Episcopal Church, four (1789, 1892, 1928, and 1979). 

The Anglican Church in North American (ACNA) just recently published its first BCP, the language and structure of which will be familiar at many points to those who are used to the 1979 American BCP. Nevertheless, it contains some notable differences, including an updating of the Coverdale Psalter (to which Nashotah House’s Old Testament professor, Fr. Travis Bott, was a contributor). 

The Episcopal Church is in a period of considering Prayer Book revision. The Task Force on Liturgy and Prayer Book Revision, an interim body that was created at the 2018 General Convention by Resolution A068, will be expected to consider what this might involve. It is unclear what the next General Convention will approve: a plan for a new prayer book? A plan for a book of alternative services? Allowance for liturgical revision to occur more organically, at a grassroots level under the direction of diocesan bishops? 

Having been appointed to this task force, I find myself considering potential hindrances to large-scale revisions. First, it is an enormous scholarly undertaking, and I worry whether we have the scholars and experts necessary for the task. 

Second, revision should be a financially significant undertaking. It requires lots of experts to meet in person over extended periods of time. The (rejected) proposal at the 2018 General Convention for BCP revision estimated the cost to be in the neighborhood of 7-9 million dollars. Given the pressing needs of the church—evangelism to those outside the church, the re-evangelization of those inside it, the care for those in all kinds of need in our communities and beyond—is spending this sort of money really the best stewardship of our limited funds? 

Third, my anecdotal experience (which is only that, but often confirmed when I speak with others in the church) is that those under the age of 45 are drawn to Anglicanism because of its prayer book. One bishop I know in a moderate to left-of-center diocese directed that the Eucharist be celebrated at the cathedral at the High Altar, with all facing east, in the seasons of Advent and Lent. Why? Because, he told me, the younger people “want that ol’ time religion.” Traditional liturgy and a substantive commitment to classical doctrine tend to be the hallmark of the last generation of younger clergy in the Episcopal Church. “I could do a lot of things with my life,” one young priest told me. “If I’m going to give my life to serve as a priest, I want to give myself to a Christianity that actually has something substantive to teach, has liturgy that takes me out of the banal humdrum of my life, and that has a doctrinal and liturgical tradition that is robustly connected to historic Christianity throughout time.” These do not tend to be the priorities of those who are advocating for prayer book revision in the Episcopal Church.

Material History

Nashotah House stewards an amazing collection of our tradition’s material history in the form of the Underwood Collection, just one piece of our Special Collections, which comprises some 50 volumes that include many historic prayer books and pre-Reformation Latin liturgical books (mostly Sarum). It is truly a remarkable treasure. 

No other tradition among western Christians leans so significantly on a physical book that contains the Psalter and the public liturgies of the church and sits so close to its self-identity. Liturgically speaking, Anglicans are uniquely a “people of the book.” If you’re reading this, the Book of Common Prayer has likely been a tremendous spiritual gift to you. You’ll want to take a look at the beautiful new, high-resolution scans underway of Nashotah’s Underwood Collection. Go to https://nashotahchapter.com/underwood for an inside peek.