It is reasonable to assume that anyone with even a fleeting acquaintance with Anglican worship will be familiar with the Christmas service of Nine Lessons and Carols. Less certain is that this familiarity extends to the identity of its originator – the Very Reverend Eric Milner-White. In an elegantly and attractively presented volume, More than Nine Lessons and Carols – The Life of Eric Milner-White 1884-1963 (Sacristy Press, 2005), Allen Warren expertly places the liturgical brilliance of this service in the context of an ordained ministry marked by an abiding concern for the beauty and relevance of worship, a deep appreciation of the power of the arts and an irrepressible ability to connect. Presented a mere six weeks after the Armistice, the Christmas Eve service of 1918 is rightly extolled as a liturgical triumph. The sensitive compilation of biblical texts and prayers is gently folded around sublime musical settings of sacred texts and well-known carols of great dignity. This service continues to resonate, not only with those already attuned to the offering of worship but also with those who find Christianity beyond their immediate powers of comprehension. The Bidding Prayer of this service takes its place as one of the most compelling pieces of liturgical writing in the Anglican tradition.

With this service established as the point of contact, Warren gives a thorough account of Milner-White’s family background, his schooling at Harrow (1884–1903) and his days as an undergraduate at King’s College, Cambridge (1903–1907). This period is recounted in considerable detail and places him in a context whereby it is possible to discern the beginnings of his fascination with the beauty of language and artistic insights. After a brief period at Cuddesdon Theological College, Milner-White was ordained deacon in Southwark Cathedral in 1908 and spent the next four years as curate at St Paul’s, Lorrimore Square, to which period Warren ascribes the emergence of a social concern spread wider than that so far experienced amongst Cambridge undergraduates. It was in this setting that he first came to realize that to be an effective communicator, especially to less academic congregations, sermons and prayers needed to be made more condensed and straightforward.

In 1912, Milner-White returned to King’s, where he remained until his appointment as a chaplain during the Great War of 1914–18. This was a traumatic time for clergy ill-prepared for the ministry they were expected to exercise, and Milner-White was no exception. An overarching challenge facing chaplains was that of having the resources to minister effectively to those in emergencies – as in having only minutes alone with them before their death. The Prayer Book, which Anglican chaplains carried with them, contained beautiful, elegantly crafted prayers for the sick and dying. These prayers may have been finely wrought liturgical gems, but they took time and were never intended to be useful for someone who had two minutes to live. They belonged within the sedate, ordered pattern of parish life, where people died gently and with proper notice. Chaplains in the Great War had no prayers or sacramental shorthand with which to communicate quickly, when minutes, even seconds, were all they had. It had become plain, wrote Milner-White, ‘and chaplains in the field felt it most, that the country had no semblance of a popular, familiar devotion except the General Confession and Lord’s Prayer, followed by extracts from Evensong’. (‘Modern Prayers and their Writers’, Liturgy and Worship (London, SPCK 1932 p. 759). Given the scarcity of his own writings – an impediment acknowledged throughout by Warren – it is difficult to assess the impact this undoubtedly harrowing war-time experience had upon Milver-White personally. We are, however, entitled to assume he was sensitive to the pastoral shortcomings of the material at the disposal of the chaplains and that this dilemma strengthened his resolve to devise prayers, Offices and Orders of Service that conveyed the Christian message directly and succinctly. The need for prayers, which facilitated a richer and wider devotional life, was never more apparent.

The opportunity to embrace such a challenge presented itself when, in 1918, he returned to King’s as Dean, a position he then held for twenty years. In the context of a resumption of pastoral ministry to members of College, he was involved in the production of prayers and services specifically designed to broaden the liturgical usefulness and pastoral relevance of the Book of Common Prayer. This incentive was stimulated by the rejection of support for the 1928 Book. The genius of works such as After the Third Collect and Cambridge Offices and Orisons lies in their affinity with past devotions, and a resolve that the beauty of language would not be compromised by any desire to seek relevance through literary impoverishment. To the contrary, the aim of liturgy, he wrote, is not to evoke the interest of the passer-by, but to achieve a common prayer before God of which the worshipping Church cannot tire. Milner-White also turned his attention to the balancing of a generally accepted pattern of Sunday worship consisting primarily of Matins and Evensong with an advocacy of a more readily accessible Eucharist. He openly acknowledged the contribution of the Oxford Movement to the revival and transformation of the prayer life of England. This led to a desire for an enhancement of the sacramental character of worship and was consistent with his efforts towards founding the Oratory of the Good Shepherd, an organization whose membership and influence continues unabated today. Milner-White’s wish for the Oratory to be Cambridge-centred with a fixed residential address was eventually by-passed in the interests of serving a wider membership, and his enthusiasm for the Oratory subsequently waned. Nevertheless, Milner-White maintained his determination for the life of prayer to epitomize, as he put it, an English and Catholic tradition, which was both solemn and full, which drew freely from Scripture and ancient liturgy, yet served both modern need and modern intelligence (Liturgy and Worship p. 758).

In 1940, Milner-White moved to York as Dean of the Minster, and it is here that Warren brings his liturgical and pastoral gifts into sharpest focus. This section stands out as the highlight of the book. It is where Warren is able to make the strongest case for Milner-White’s singular and lasting contribution to the Church’s outreach and mission. His ministry as Dean provided the opportunity to bring together his expertise in liturgy and the arts, and to use these gifts to establish impressive connections with the City and wider community. He became the exemplar of a Civic Dean, with the Minster at the heart of the spiritual life of the city. For this to be achieved, however, it was necessary for the Minster to be a place that was open and accepting to all, not just to the so-called converted. Warren makes this point effectively. The best and most thoughtful non-believers, Milner-White had written, submit to Christian influence in ‘the sphere of living where they do not in the sphere of thought’ (324), a position forthrightly articulated by his contemporary Oliver Quick, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, in ‘Catholic and Protestant Elements in Christianity’. It is this theological position which clears the way for the Anglican genius of inclusion, which, as Warren makes clear, became the hallmark of Milner-White’s ministry at York. This ability to draw all manner of people and organizations into the broad ministry of the Minster became immediately evident, and Warren deals comprehensively with these areas of outreach. Milner-White became a member of the York City Art Gallery, became closely supportive of the campaign for a new university to be established and became secretary and eventually chairman of the Civic Trust. In terms of purely diocesan involvement, he was involved in the care of historic churches and became a strong advocate of so-called ‘negotiated convergence’ between the Roman Catholic and Reformed churches, searching for instances of unity that might transform the traditional relationships. Inevitably, it was to the heart of the Minister itself that he turned, showing great concern for the upkeep of its fabric and the re-installation of its precious glass, for which his persuasive powers over the Pilgrim Trust were crucial to its success.

Perhaps the most singular of Milner-White’s instincts was the value he placed on Inspiration. He identified it as an experience beyond any conceivable bounds of the Catholic Church or of conscious religion and, with a foreshadowing of Rudolf Otto’s later work The Idea of the Holy, he ascribed this gift to the poet, the musician, the artist and the thinker. He was quick to emphasize that this did not diminish the Church as the home of spiritual experience, but it meant it had no monopoly on it in the creative impulses of human nature. It was this foundational understanding of the role of the arts in facilitating an engagement with the divine that fuelled Milner-White’s unwavering passion for the restoration of the fabric and stained glass of the Minster, and for his support of two artists in particular – Harry Stammers and Herbert Howells. The organist during his time at York was the formidable Sir Edward Bairstow, whose musical brilliance was matched by staunchly held views regarding the place of music in Cathedral worship. Regardless, there is no indication of any of the frustrations between organist and dean that have been known, occasionally, to disturb the composure of Cathedral life.

Allen Warren’s book is a sensitive and compelling accounting of the contribution of one of the most significant twentieth-century ecclesiastical figures within the Anglican Church. It is essential reading, not only for those wanting to understand more of the liturgical, artistic and pastoral genius of Eric Milner-White, but for all those associated in any way with present-day Cathedral establishments. As Milner-White had it, the unique essence of Cathedral life lies in ‘gathering in recruits by the newness of an old appeal’. And the people enter it ‘because it gives life’ (‘The Spirit and the Church in History’, Essays Catholic and Critical). It is this sentiment which must lie at the heart of all Cathedrals if they are to embody the mystery that inspires humanity to seek something beyond itself.