The rector of the Anglo-Catholic parish that sponsored me for ordination once remarked that the heartbeat of the parish is the daily Mass. When I first heard him say that, I partially understood what he meant. Over a decade later, I understand it more clearly. There’s a shadow side to Anglo-Catholicism when we become so obsessed with the intricacies of a High Mass that we want nothing to do with a Low (Said) Mass. It’s not that smells, bells, and chanting aren’t beautiful or even important. They’re simply overt, external expressions of a quiet, inward devotion to a sacramental piety that is strongly tied to the Incarnation. As Episcopalians worshipping in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, we have a special devotion to the sacramental life of the Church, where we see the hallowing of matter by God. In this sense, ordinary, small things matter. We could say that smells and bells, while apparently unnecessary, are indeed necessary in this reverential attention to detail. And yet, the glory of a High Mass can, if we’re not careful, paradoxically distract us from the quieter, more mundane expressions of our piety. I would suggest that the glory of the High Mass and the quiet dignity of a Low Mass are both necessary to an Anglo-Catholic piety. A healthy life of piety usually has a good degree of balance within it.
So, to say that the heartbeat of an Anglo-Catholic parish is the daily Mass is, oddly enough, to challenge an easy equation of Anglo-Catholicism with the visible symbols of a High Mass. It’s to say that the glory of a High Mass finds its origins in the simple, day-to-day participation in the Eucharistic action. In a time when we are the inheritors of a Catholic-influenced prayer book (the 1979 Book of Common Prayer), we may very well ask what distinguishes us as Anglo-Catholics. There’s no longer anything for Anglo-Catholics to “prove” or “fight” about, and thank goodness! But there’s a lot that we can testify to as a gift to the wider Church. Above all, we aspire to a reverence for all things—for created matter that is made holy through the Church’s sacramental life, for a particular kind of respectful presence before the altar of God, for an insistence on regular, constant public worship, and for keeping the Church’s holy days. Very few parishes mark all Major Holy Days with Masses, even though the prayer book clearly expects this will happen. Our observance of such days is one way in which we can call the wider Church to enter more deeply into God’s time.
By entering into God’s time, ordinary life is sanctified and set apart as belonging to God. You’ll notice a reverential silence before and after Masses at Good Shepherd and in the setting apart of the church interior as a sacred space, a place of reverence in an increasingly irreverent world. I was reminded of all this on Saturday as we held a refresher training for our acolytes. I explained that the attention to detail (in how to hold our hands when serving and how to comport oneself in worship) is not at all about being “fussy” or “stuffy.” Rather, such attention to detail means that we’re setting apart all that we do—our lives and our actions—so that God can make them holy. We should have a sense of humor even as we do that, but ultimately, worship is not about us, it’s about God and what God does with the brokenness of our lives. Details matter. When ordinary life is hallowed, then what the rest of the world deems unnecessary, we categorize as necessary for shaping lives of piety and holiness. As the well-known liturgist and priest Louis Weil once remarked, “God is in the details!”
To say that the heartbeat of an Anglo-Catholic parish is the daily Mass is also to make an implied connection between the seemingly unnecessary details of an acolyte training and the necessary hallowing of the ordinary in our lives. The details of our liturgical practice are not unnecessary afterthoughts; they say a great deal about how much we look upon the quotidian realities of daily life with love and grace. A Wednesday daily Mass at Good Shepherd is not inferior to a High Mass. Indeed, the daily Mass invites us to move to a more contemplative gazing upon the holy mysteries of the Eucharist. Attendance at a daily Mass is a profound statement that on a particular, ordinary day of the week, we still believe that Jesus makes himself known to us in the breaking of bread. The heartbeat of an Anglo-Catholic parish (in fact, any parish) is an ability to pray without ceasing, to mark the changes and chances of this mortal life with prayer and an entrance into God’s kairos time.
Unfortunately, the daily Mass was a casualty of the difficult recent years of Good Shepherd’s history, and I have found that once such a practice disappears, it’s very difficult to recover. But I don’t like the idea of giving up! For some, maintaining a daily Mass might seem unnecessary, but I would argue that it’s necessary to sustaining a pattern of holiness. Not everyone can fit a daily Mass into their schedule, but the point of a daily Mass is not the number of people present. The point is that at least two or three (a faithful remnant) are gathered to give thanks to God and stand in the place that Christ has prepared for us by interceding for the Church and the world. I would personally prefer not to sacrifice our hope that we can recover the tradition of the daily Mass at Good Shepherd on the false altar of a declining Church. To recover such an essential practice of Anglo-Catholicism at Good Shepherd will require a committed effort from all of us. It’s a joint effort, not a sole effort of the parish priest, because the Mass should not happen with only me present! The daily Mass is a powerful reminder of the necessary presence of the laity and is an interesting challenge to clericalism.
I would like us to seriously consider how we can support the revival of the daily Mass at Good Shepherd. We won’t do it overnight. It will take some time. But it starts with one person, and then it grows. At the moment, our Rector’s Warden, Don McCown, faithfully serves the 8 a.m. Friday morning Mass. I’m grateful for Don’s devotion to that Mass. Usually, it’s just me and Don, but it’s a powerful thirty minutes or so of deep prayer, a quiet and wonderful way to begin a new day. We have recently begun offering Mass at 12:05 p.m. on Wednesdays, although we’ve not yet had anyone show up for that Mass! But I’m optimistic, and I believe that Good Shepherd, with time, can move back to recover its Anglo-Catholic heartbeat—its heartbeat of thanksgiving—in the daily Mass.
One way to ensure that we can build a culture of the daily Mass once again in this parish is to recruit servers for the daily Masses. Would you be willing to give an hour of your time in the middle of a Wednesday to be a part of this parish’s magnificent hallowing of ordinary time? Will you consider helping us commit to increasing reverence in our world through the habit of regular prayer? Will you help this parish remain true to its roots in maintaining the venerable and beautiful tradition of the daily Mass? If so, please reach out to me.
In my four years at Good Shepherd, I have felt the power of our regular public prayer. It has helped us discern more clearly God’s call to us. I believe that it’s been essential to our growth and that it’s necessary to our vitality as a parish committed to loving the Lord and our neighbors. The ostensibly unnecessary but necessary rhythm of prayer and our perpetual stream of thanksgiving are what distinguish us Anglo-Catholics today in an Episcopal Church where the Sunday Mass is de rigueur. We are committed to extending the Sunday Mass into every day of the week, because every day is holy, every minute is holy. It’s all a gift from God, and for that, the only response is thanksgiving, which is the heart of the Mass.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle