Following the first English vernacular translation of the novus ordo missae, and the modern English new liturgies in the English-speaking Anglican, Methodist and Reformed worlds, there was a stream of criticism of the ‘flat’, ‘dull’, ‘mundane’ and ‘tasteless’ language employed. Though much-deserved, some of the literary failings were, and continue to be, at least in part, the result of committee, synodical and episcopal oversight and editing, which is not calculated to produce liturgical poetics. A slew of critical works, essays and ‘letters to the editor’ appeared, and one of those appearing later in the day was Barry Spurr’s The Word in the Desert, 1995. Since those initial interventions, a new English translation of the Roman texts was implemented in 2011, and a second generation of new revisions has also appeared in many English-speaking Churches, and so certainly the time is ripe for a new assessment of the current state of the language. Some critical but positive contributions have been made by David Jasper and Cally Hammond, who are both selected as dialogue partners in Barry Spurr’s second bite at the language cherry.

The title of the book, Language in the Liturgy. Past, Present, Future, sounds enticing, and Spurr – a former professor of English Literature and now poetry editor of Quadrant – is certainly well qualified to give an intriguing contribution to the ongoing debate. Chapters include Anglican Liturgy then and now; Roman Catholic English liturgy today; the place of music in worship, feminization and infantilization in liturgy; and the place of stillness and silence. However, Spurr’s book is not easy to review, since it often becomes an unbridled diatribe against his pet dislikes in contemporary Christianity, ranging far beyond liturgical language to include feminism, LGBTQ communities, the use of microphones in liturgy and Zoom broadcasts of services. These personal agendas distract from and dilute what insights Spurr might otherwise have to offer on improving the current English liturgical language.

The Introduction revisits the 1960s and the move from Latin and Cranmerian English to a modern vernacular, which many people found intrusive and unlovely and at times for good reason. Long ago in an article in Studia Liturgica, using the insights of Eric Ericson, change in liturgy was likened to the interruption of a baby’s routine with its mother, which brings distress to the child, and this psychology may better explain the deep discomfort felt by many rather than Spurr’s concern for the style of language per se. Many observations about liturgy in general that Spurr makes – such as his quote from Evelyn Underhill – most of us would wholeheartedly endorse. However, it is clear from the outset that this is not an even-handed exploration of the subject – the work refers to like-minded posts on social media and the internet, as well as citations from those on the conservative Roman Catholic side who urge a ‘Reform of the Reform’ such as the late Laszlo Dobszay. The survey of liturgical language seems to place Cranmer on a pedestal. Being an Australian, it is strange that rather than the 1996 A Prayer Book for Australia, Spurr chooses the Church of England’s Common Worship: Times and Seasons as his modern Anglican bête noire. However, simply to look at the language and to neglect further investigation can lead to misleading assumptions. Spurr selects from the latter a paragraph from the Renewal of the Covenant service, which he views as a babble of verbosity. The assessment seems to imply that the Liturgical Commission is directly responsible for this verbosity. The Liturgical Commission might be blamed for including it, but of course, it was an ecumenical gesture and is taken from the Methodist Worship Book, 1999. The paragraph in question is a modern abbreviation of Wesley’s original, which read:

David Chapman, in his discussion of Methodist worship in Born in Song, 2006, noted that Wesley was verbose here. It may have been a bad choice of the Liturgical Commission to include the service with such language, but the verbosity goes back to Mr. Wesley and his eighteenth-century English prose.

Spurr devotes a chapter to the Book of Common Prayer and Cranmer’s exceptional gift in writing liturgical language. However, it is all too easy to equate Cranmer and 1662 and overlook the preface of the latter, which stated:

Liturgical language has not been entirely static in the Anglican tradition, and 1662 made corrections to and updates of Cranmer’s language.

In examining modern Anglican liturgical language, Spurr is critical of the recent Coronation Service – though responsibility for that lies entirely with the Royal Household and the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it is not open to much further scrutiny by any other group. Spurr likes the post-communion prayer in Common Worship, which was authored by David Frost, ‘Father we give you thanks and praise’, but he is critical of the confession, ‘Father eternal, giver of light and grace’, which was also authored by Frost. Obviously, even amongst literary experts, there is a difference about what is good modern liturgical language.

One chapter is dedicated to the situation in the English-speaking Roman Catholic world. It would have been helpful if Spurr had addressed the problem of translating from Latin into vernacular languages. Latin itself is not a neutral language, and so some discussion of the Latin of the 1970 Missal would have been useful. Is it simply ‘conciliar’ Latin? The old Roman canon missae has rhythmic clausulae such as planus, velox and tardus, which are nigh-well impossible to replicate in English translation. I doubt the conciliar compositions have such rhythm, and since Eucharist Prayer 3 drew on the Greek of the anaphoras of St. Basil and St. Mark, the prior questions is, did the Greek have any poetics similar to those of St. John Chrysostom, and if so, how was this replicated in the new Latin composition? It raises the problem of literal translation (a vernacular liturgy with a Latin heart or Greek heart) over against dynamic equivalence (a vernacular heart, with less word-for-word rendering of the original language). Spurr does make some positive suggestions for better rendering here, but in terms of the future, ultimately, he offers all too little.

Chapter 5 is dedicated to music in liturgy. Many will agree that many modern hymns and choruses are banal, but Spurr’s idea of music in liturgy seems to be seen through his former Anglican eyes. He bemoans that Merbecke is not used – Merbecke was originally for the 1549 book, and it fell out of use very quickly and remained in oblivion until reintroduced by Tractarians and the nineteenth-century Romantic movement. The West Gallery music in parish churches in the eighteenth century was often popular secular music applied to Sternhold and Hopkins or Tate and Brady until these were all swept away by nineteenth-century hymnody, Victorian surpliced choirs and the introduction of the organ in parish churches. Many hymns were written in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the majority of which fell into desuetude and have long since been forgotten, other than by historians of hymnology. Spurr simplifies historical matters that are in fact, far more complex.

Most liturgical scholars and most sensible people will agree with him about clerical liturgical incompetence and the total misuse of microphones. The latter is for amplification. But for some obscure reasons, many clergy see the microphone as an invitation to transform themselves into a TV comedy show host. Likewise, too many clergy – more so in the Evangelical tradition – adopt a condescending – let’s speak to the kindergarten voice, instead of praying the liturgy. Far too many celebrants fail to trust the liturgy to speak for itself, but instead, they feel that they must explain it all. However, this has to do with liturgical formation, and not itself the faults of modern English liturgies and liturgical committees. I have witnessed Cranmer’s language mauled by the ‘kindergarten’ voice.

I began by saying that the title of Spurr’s book is enticing, but allowing one’s own pet complaints to creep in so frequently makes this book into a whine rather than a persuasive argument. I am left with the impression that Spurr, now a Roman Catholic, would like all Anglicans to revert to the 1662 Prayer Book, and for a Pope to reintroduce the Extraordinary Rite as the Ordinary Rite for Roman Catholics. Both are highly unlikely scenarios. In the context of the debate over the revision of worship in the Church of Scotland in the nineteenth century, Dr. Robert Lee of Greyfriars Edinburgh wrote:

Wordsmiths are needed who will climb aboard the chariot and who, even if in their own view they cannot match the cursus of the Roman canon missae, or the ‘beauty’ of Cranmer, will nevertheless offer their very best so that our modern English language liturgies are the best that can be had in the present times. Even if those results of liturgical poetics are not accepted because of the odd processes of liturgical revision and authorization, at least such offerings will stand as a testimony to what could have been.