Turning on the Gloria

At dinner with some seminary professors, I asked about the history of the ceremonial practice of the choir "turning on the Gloria." I was currently the Rector of a parish that had this habit and was curious about its origin and unsure of its theological significance.  To my surprise, none of the professors were aware of this practice, but another parish minister did indicate that he once had been the priest of a parish that had the same habit.  And, he assured the professors gathered that it was a widespread practice.  With that, the conversation moved in another direction.

A few months later, at yet another seminary, I tried again.  But, still, none of the professors knew the answer to my question and like before had not even heard of the practice.  I informed them that I had served in two congregations in different parts of the country that had this habit and in both there had been consternation as to whether or not the choristers were to "turn on the Gloria."

From informally interviewing those who had this habit, I already knew that they had no idea why the did it, or they had a variety of views and thus no consensus opinion.  Some believed they were facing the cross, others thought they were facing the altar, many believed they were facing God when directly addressing God in prayer, and most said they did it because everyone else was doing it and not to do it would be odd.  Others spoke of reverence, and still, others spoke of the enjoyment of "doing it right" and beauty of the liturgy and being part of a "dance with God."

Various priests had given them multiple answers when they had asked the question over the years, and I was sure that the priests (as priests are prone to do when they don't know the answer) just made stuff up. 

So, doing what any sensible person would do, I went to the library.  I spent a day “in the stacks,” sometimes laying the floor and pulling one book off the shelf after another, dipping into and out of numerous tomes.  And, it turns out…

In the mid-nineteenth century, a renewed appreciation for catholic ceremonial practice appeared in the English church. The “Oxford Movement” (or “Tractarianism”) gained a faithful following in the Church of England.  (If you are fuzzy on the history, see J. R. H. Moorman’s chapter on the subject in his “A History of the Church in England).  Supporting this movement was a group of architects, the Cambridge Camden Society, which promoted the construction of places of worship that were congruent with the ceremonial practices of the Tractarians.

John Purchas’ “Directorium Anglicanum” (1858) is an example of the interest in reclaiming a more catholic theology and practice.  Interestingly, Purchas was charged with breaking ecclesiastical law in 1869 for (among other things) facing east at the altar.  

The definitive guide for clergy who desired to adopt these practices was Percy Dearmer’s “The Parson’ Handbook” (1899 with many subsequent editions).

While the Tractarians were attempting to recapture a lost past, innovations were nonetheless introduced.  The Cambridge Camden Society’s preference for chancels with facing stalls was soon populated by choristers in surplices.  For instance, in Leeds in 1841, a worship space built in the spirit of the Cambridge Camden Society saw the west gallery disappear, and a vested choir appear in facing stalls between the nave and the sanctuary. 

The style became very popular and Dearmer, via many editions of his handbook, helped shape how the space was used.  

The Oxford Movement coincided with a revival in choral church music.  (There is an excellent doctoral dissertation written on the subject by Bernarr Rainbow, “The Choral Revival in the Anglican Church 1839-1872”).  So, in parishes experiencing both the choral revival and the Oxford Movement, accommodations had to be made.  Since the choristers were vested, they mimicked the movements of the clergy.  When the clergy knelt, they knelt.  When the clergy stood, they stood.  When the clergy turned to face east, so did the choristers. 

Cranmer’s rubrics called for the priest to officiate from the North side of the altar, which was why Purchas’ could be charged with breaking ecclesiastical law for facing East (he also placed candles on the altar and formed processions!)

Facing east during certain portions of the liturgy, was one of the many ritual practices of the Tractarians.  And, when the ministers would turn, the choristers would also turn.  With everyone vested and seated in the chancel correctly performing the choreography, it  is was, no doubt, an aesthetically pleasing sight. 

Of course, not all clergy were Anglo-Catholics. So, when a more evangelical, Protestant, or “broad church” priest would follow an Anglo-Catholic priest in a parish, ceremonial practice was apt to change.  Or, at the very least, the interpretation (explanation) of the practice was apt to change.  For instance, rather than “facing east” the turning might be described as “facing the cross.”  Even Anglo-Catholics would become confused in time and begin describing the practice as “facing the altar.”  That is, the practice continued, but a new understanding emerged.

The Cambridge Camden Society was enormously successful, and many parishes were built according to it’s specifications, and others were retrofitted accordingly.  But, much to the dismay of its members, many congregations refused to alter their buildings or when building new structures conform to the dictates of the Cambridge Camden Society.

And, as priests began pulling altars away from the wall and facing west to celebrant Holy Eucharist, some consternation arose amongst choristers sitting in stalls facing each other in the chancels as to what to do.  Thus, a period of experimentation ensued in local parishes, depending on the sensibilities of the priest in charge.

By 1979, when the prayer book allowed a song of praise other than the Gloria to be said at the opening of Holy Eucharist, confusion arose as to when and if to turn.  Did one always turn on the “song of praise” or only if the song of praise was the “Gloria.”  Some would not turn if it was the “Kyrie” or the “Trisagion” but would only turn if the song of praise was the “Gloria.”

Followers of the Oxford Movement were often passionate about “doing it right.”  Parishioners often absorbed the passion of the Anglo-Catholic priest, but often never knew or soon forgot the theology that drove the practice.  So, once  such a priest departed the parish, parishioners were often left unsure as to what to do, but very concerned about “doing it right.”

This insistence on "doing it right" was not confined to the Anglo-Catholics.  Evangelically minded protestants were also very concerned about ceremonial practices, and for them "doing it right" often meant doing what they had been doing before the Oxford Movement began mudding the waters. 

Broad Churchmen were not exempt from these ceremonial woes.  Temperamentally and theologically comfortable with many of the practices of the Anglo-Catholics on the one hand and the Evangelicals on the other, practice in many parishes became not one or the other but some combination of the two.  But, what combination could vary widely from parish to parish. 

Further, as parishioners moved from one parish to another, they would take with them the practices of their former congregation.  For many parishes' a ceremonial stew was thus served with a sprinkle of this and a dash of that.  Such is the nature of the history of institutions as they evolve, develop, and change over time.

So, to answer the question:  "Why do we do that?"  In sum, the choral revival of the mid-nineteenth century in England, the Oxford Movement of Anglicanism, and the work of the Cambridge Camden Society mark the beginning of the current practice (in some parishes) of "turning on the Gloria."

Sin

“All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” Romans 3:23.

I’m a preacher.   I don’t know anything about politics.  But, I do know a few things about sin (most from personal experience).

I’ve sinned.  You’ve sinned.  We have all sinned.  We have all fallen short of the glory God intends for us.

As for me, my sins are many.  One of my sins is that I am a racist.

I’m not proud of my sin.  I am ashamed of my sin.  I ask God to forgive me of things I’ve done and things I’ve left undone.  After confessing my sin, I repent of it:  I pledge not to continue doing it.  Often I fail.

With regard to racism, I have in the past referred to myself as a “recovering racist.”  Both words “recovering” and “racist” are important.  I am both.   I am a sinner, and I am, by the grace of God, called to change.

One of the modes of the manifestation of sin can be the “blindspot.”  The analogy is to driving on I-10 and beginning to change lanes.  You check your mirrors.  You turn your head and look.  You begin to change lanes, when suddenly into your line of sight you see that you are soon to collide with a car in the other lane.  You had a blindspot.

Note that you looked to see if there was anyone driving in the other lane.  You checked your mirrors.  You turned your head.  You did not intend to collide with another vehicle.  You are a good person.  Your intentions are good.  But, nonetheless, you had a blindspot and sometimes collisions happen because of blindspots.

I have friends who tell me when I’ve spilled lunch on my shirt.  They know I haven’t noticed it, maybe because of its location, I can’t see it without looking in a mirror.  Friends do that for each other.  It is embarrassing when I spill something on my shirt.  I am embarrassed when I am told that I have spilled something on my shirt.  But, friends don’t let you go around all day with a food stain on your shirt.

These two different analogies are important to the current nature of my own sin of racism.

My friends who have skin that is darker than mine, tell me I am a good person.  I would never use a racial or ethnic slur.  It upsets me when others do so.  I am not conscious of any racist thoughts or feelings.  Quite the contrary, I am appalled when I see someone engaging in racist behavior or speaking in racist language.  I can even imagine people who know me protesting:  “You are no racist.”  And, I certainly do not want to think of myself as a racist.  But, at this point in my life, I am a racist because I have blindspots.

The thing about a blindspot—you don’t see it.  By its nature, you do not see it.  It is a “spot” of blindness.  You are “blind” to that  “spot.”  You have a blindspot.  And, with regard to race, I have blindspots.

I am continually learning the many ways in which I am enmeshed in the sin of racism.  Sometimes my blindspots cause collisions.  Sometimes I narrowly escape a wreck.

Which brings me back to my second analogy:  My friends sometimes tell me when I’ve spilled lunch on my shirt.  And, my friends sometimes tell me when I am engaging in racist behavior or using racist language.

Things I had never thought about before are brought to my attention.  Note that it does not matter that I did not intend to spill lunch on my shirt.  Nor, does it matter that I don’t often spill lunch on my shirt.  Perhaps, I have a long history of being very good at not spilling lunch on my shirt.  But, in this case, despite my exemplary history and best intentions, I have, in fact, spilled lunch on my shirt.  Likewise, it does not matter that I did not intend a particular action to be racist.  It does not matter that I have a history of not being overtly racist.  It does not matter than people think of me as a generally good person and I like to think of myself as a well-intentioned generally good person.  Because, I discover, much to my surprise, that I have, in this case, despite my exemplary history and best intentions, engaged in racist behavior or used racist language.

Sometimes sin can be related to “blindspots” and “food stains.”  The sin of racism is no different.

I saw the mayor of Ocean Springs, the Honorable Shae Dobson, on T.V. today.  He asked that we give the aldermen of Ocean Springs and himself, the benefit of the doubt, that they are good people who are well-intentioned.  All citizens of Ocean

Springs should have no problem believing their good intentions.  Even those unknown to you personally, you should have no problem believing that if you did know them, that you would find them to be genuinely good people.  We should give each other the benefit of the doubt.

I know it is a blind spot for many, but the current design of the state flag of Mississippi is, in fact, a racist symbol.  Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it is not the case.  Such is the nature of a “blind spot.” 

Like a friend, you tells you you’ve spilled something on your shirt, fellow citizens of Ocean Springs have pointed out the “stain” on our civic “shirt.”

All have sinned and fallen short of the glory God.  I’ve sinned.  You’ve sinned.  We’ve all sinned.  One of my current struggles with sin (I have several), is with the sin of racism.  I beg my friends whose skin is darker than my own, to bear with me, giving me the benefit of the doubt with regard to my good intentions, but, nonetheless, never failing to tell me when I have fallen into the sin of racism.

We’ve been told we have erred and gone astray.  I suspect it is a civic blindspot for many.   Like a friend, telling you that you have spilled something on your shirt; in the love of Christ and as a friend, I need to tell Ocean Springs that we are flying a symbol of racism over our city hall.  However, unintentional it may be, it is nonetheless sinful.  We need to confess our sin and repent of our sin.  Until the state legislature removes the battle flag of the confederacy from the state flag, we should not fly the state flag over our city hall.  We need to confess our sin and then we need to stop flying the state flag in its current design.