Living into the Scriptures: Mass and Office

There are two long-standing impulses when it comes to encountering the Scriptures—diligence and relevance. The first is that impulse that drives us to read the whole thing, the impulse that coverage is key. The second is the impulse that tells us that certain passages are more relevant to certain times and certain places than others, that what we read when should fit meaningfully in our religious experiences.

These impulses become important when, in our spiritual journey, we sit down and pick up the Bible. What do we do next? More specifically, where do we open it—the front or somewhere in the middle? Should we consult a calendar before doing so or should we go to where the bookmark concluded the last session?

Thus, the question is often framed this way—is it better to sit down and read the Scriptures the whole way through or to pick and choose by some principle? I have to say that I don’t like this way of framing things because it creates a false dichotomy; it forces a choice that need not be made. The best way to think through this difference is by understanding a little bit of history in regard to our spiritual practices.

Our current public system of Scripture selection grows out of the early medieval monastic system. I can’t go into full details here (those will be in chapter 2 of my dissertation…) but suffice it to say that the early medieval life was encompassed by a number of lectionaries or systems of reading selections ordered by time and content. Think here of interlocking circles within circles. A kind of spiritual armillary sphere. I’ll draw attention to only two for my purposes here. The outermost sphere is governed by the Church Year and is repeated, yes, yearly. There were two major lectionaries at work here—one for the Mass and one for the Night Office. We’re more familiar with the first, less so with the second.

Essentially, the purpose of the Gospel Mass lectionary is to honor the relevance impulse by picking certain parts of the Gospel story to accompany us through the Church Year. The year serves as a tool for learning and following after the life and teachings of Christ. This system is more or less in use today. We’ve expanded it to a three year cycle and restricted it to Sundays, but it is essentially intact. Ever hear complaints about this system? The one I’ve heard the most is—but we only get to hear a little bit of the whole Bible in church!

For early medieval monastics, the Mass lectionary was balanced by the Night Office lectionary: while only selections from the gospels, the epistles and the prophets were read during Mass, the entire Bible was read through every year in the Night Office. Thus, the diligence impulse was duly honored. The Mass lectionary was never designed to stand on its own but it served in relation to the Night Office lectionary. The scheme linked particular books and groupings of books to certain liturgical seasons or months, e.g. Isaiah to Advent, Revelation to Easter, Job to September, etc. With some of the pairings—like Isaiah and Advent—there was a theological rationale.

Fast forward to the Reformation. The reformers all agreed that the monastic-based Roman Catholic systems of spirituality were not working—lay people don’t have the time that monastics do. Various churches offered various options. Some retained only the Mass Lectionary. Some advocated a lectio continua—a straightforward reading through the Bible. The best option as far as I am concerned is enshrined in the 1662 BCP; it preserves both cycles. The logic of the Mass lectionary is preserved (the actual readings are mostly the same as the medieval ones; I won’t go into the differences here…). The real innovation appears in the Office readings.

Unlike Continental Protestants, the English Reformers retained Morning and Evening Prayer and sought to maintain continuity with monastic practice at a reasonable level. The solution was that there were four Scripture readings a day—two at Morning Prayer, two at Evening Prayer—ordered as follows:

The Old Testament is appointed for the First Lessons at Morning and Evening Prayer, so as the most part thereof will be read every year once, as in the Calendar is appointed.
The New Testament is appointed for the Second Lessons at Morning and Evening Prayer, and shall be read over orderly every year twice, once in the morning and once in the evening, besides the Epistles and Gospels, except the Apocalypse, out of which there are only certain Lessons appointed at the end of the year, and certain proper Lessons appointed upon divers feasts. (1662 BCP)

Thus, in this system the impulse of diligence is fully honored with the Old Testament read once every year and the New Testament read twice.

So—what meaning does all of this hold for spiritual practice? Quite a bit, actually. First, I urge you to consider these two impulses--diligence and relevance. How do you or can you honor them in your spiritual disciplines? Second, I commend to you the Office lectionary from the 1662 BCP—though I warn you, it goes a chapter at a time making for a longer time of prayer than the current Office lectionary. Third, I present for your meditation the relationship between the Mass and Office readings. Both are ways of living the Scriptures, one through a mystagogical entrance into the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Christ, the other a steady beat of Scripture rooting life in the Spirit. Used together they are complementary—synergistic even—leading us to new insights. Fourth, I would remind you that liturgical prayer is not at odds with biblical devotion. Indeed, the core impulse of truly Anglican Morning and Evening Prayer is biblical continuity, saturation in the Scriptures.