Praying a collect

A collect is a short (often general) prayer of a particular structure used in Christian liturgy. These prayers were grouped together, either according to subject matter or, later, following the sequence of the liturgical year. By the fifth century, the Church in Rome was referring to books of these prayers as collectio — ‘a collection’.

     Most of the collects in the Book of Common Prayer come from the Latin prayers for each Sunday of the year, and were translated into English by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer (d. 1556).

     In more modern Anglican versions of the Communion service, such as Common Worship used in the Church of England, the Collect follows the Gloria and precedes readings from the Bible. It usually occurs after an invitation to prayer such as, ‘Let us pray.’

     The collect represents a dialogue between the people and God, and always has the same liturgical structure:

1. The address: Collects are addressed to a person of the Trinity, most commonly to God the Father.

2. An attribute or quality of God: this bit relates to the petition (below), such as ‘who is …’

3. The petition: this is the request part of the prayer and introduces the matter being asked about or requested.

4. The reason or result expected from the prayer.

5. A conclusion, such as ‘through Christ our Lord’ or another longer statement giving glory to God (a ‘doxology’). The most common Trinitarian conclusion is ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and shall be for ever. Amen.

6. General affirmation ‘Amen.’

In some contemporary liturgical texts, this structure has been obscured by sentence constructions that depart from the Latin flowing style of a single sentence.

Look now at a real Collect — that for Bible Sunday. It includes each of the six elements above, and in the correct order, as indicated by square brackets:

[1] Blessed Lord,

[2] who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning:

[3] help us so to hear them,
to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them
that, through patience, and the comfort of your holy word,

[4] that we may embrace and for ever hold fast
the hope of everlasting life,
which you have given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ,

[5] who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

[6] Amen.

William Temple

William Temple was born in 1881 in Exeter, Devon. He was the second son of Frederick Temple (1821–1902), born just before his father became Archbishop of Canterbury.

       He graduated from Oxford with a superb degree then stayed in Oxford to teach. While still teaching, he was ordained in 1909.

       Between 1910 and 1914, Temple was Headmaster of Repton Public School after which he returned to ministry as a full-time cleric. After a short time in Parish life, Temple served first as Bishop of Manchester (1921–29), then Archbishop of York (1929–42) and finally as Archbishop of Canterbury (1942–44).

     Temple was a tireless teacher and preacher. He was also a prolific writer. Today, he is perhaps best known for his book Christianity and Social Order which he published in 1942 soon after becoming Archbishop of Canterbury. The book attempted to combine socialism and faith. By it, he wanted to create an Anglican social theology capable of promoting a just post-war society. He also used it to weld together his defence of the working-class movement with economic and social reforms. It sold prodigiously and made a huge impact which led directly to Clement Attlee’s post-war Government creating the welfare state.

     William Temple held a dizzying array of other offices, all of which were underpinned by his desire to improve Britain — the country, its people and its national Church. He was the first President (1908–1924) of the Workers’ Educational Association; he was chairman of an international and inter-denominational Conference on Christian Politics, Economics and Citizenship held in 1924; he participated widely in the ecumenical movement that sought to bring together the different Christian denominations. He was one of the Anglican delegates to the World Conference on Faith and Order held in Lausanne in 1927, and helped to prepare and chair the second World Conference Faith and Order in
Edinburgh 1937. He is also noted for being one of the founders of the Council of Christians and Jews in 1942.

     Temple worked tirelessly to bring together the various British Churches to support the Education Act of 1944. This same energy led him to form the British Council of Churches and help form the World Council of Churches.

     Temple died on 26 October 1944 and remains the last Archbishop of Canterbury to have died while in office.

The Church is the only society that exists for the benefit of those who are not its members.
William Temple

Remember me

The new year is well under way and Christmas seems no more than a distant memory. I recall its warmth and joy ... but only just; there seems a fog between even the recent past and today.

         If remembering events from a month ago is difficult, how can a modern person ‘remember’ Jesus and first-century Palestine? Yet that’s precisely what we say we do in the liturgy and in life?.

         The Jews of Jesus’ time often spoke of ‘remembering’ but it was never as a mere act of the mind. It was never an occasional act of “Oh yes, …” but an attempt to immerse self fully into the story or incident to be remembered. It required a good sense of imagination so, for example, to remember the story of Jesus in the wilderness required imagining self living alongside Jesus in his agonies of temptation. It required an active imagining of self looking at Jesus as he spoke with famished lips, and saw visions of angels or devils.

      A life spent remembering Jesus in this ancient sense will acquire an empathy with Jesus that cannot be gained elsewhere. It will seek to identify with Jesus and thence follow him. 

Epiphanies

Epiphany is a Greek word meaning ‘manifestation or appearance’.

    Because an Epiphany is an experience of sudden and striking realisation, the term can be used to describe a scientific breakthrough, a religious or philosophical discovery, but it can apply in any situation in which an enlightening realisation allows a problem or situation to be understood from a new and deeper perspective. For this reason, Epiphanies are studied by psychologists and other scholars, particularly those attempting to study the process of innovation.

In the Church, the word Epiphany describes experiences in which God Himself somehow speaks to us or which lead to God.

     The readings chosen for the month-long season of Epiphany explore the ways God makes Himself known. A constructive use of the readings will help create a mindset in which our meditations make is easier to understand when a revelation or discovery is indeed of God.

     The Church’s season of Epiphany ends on 2 February when we celebrate Candlemas—itself a moment of Epiphany, as we remember two old people (Simeon and Anna) who saw the baby Jesus and discerned in him the Messiah.

Who is Isaiah

Characters in the Bible
Isaiah

Isaiah is one of the most important figures in the whole of the Old Testament. In translation, his name means ‘God is salvation.’

     We know much about Isaiah from two types of source: firstly, from the longest book of prophecy in the Old Testament, which now bears his name — traditionally considered to be its author, although this idea is simply not possible.

    We also know of Isaiah from the historical writings of the Old Testament, for example 2 Kings 19:2; 2 Chronicles 26:22; 32:20–32. 2 Chronicles 26:22, refers to ‘Acts of Uzziah … written by Isaiah, the son of Amos, the prophet.’ In fact, the Old Testament mentions four other people with the same name (in Ezra 8:7; 8:19; Nehemiah 11:7; 1 Chronicles 26:25); and the names Jesaia (1 Chronicles 25:15) and Jeseias (1 Chronicles 3:21; 25:3) might also refer to him.

    Isaiah was a Judean prophet in the eighth-century bc, born to a man named Amos (Isaiah 1:1). His central theme was to urge the people of Judah to turn back to God. He declared that all the world belonged to God and that God would destroy it if they failed to repent. He said, ‘The land will be completely laid waste and totally plundered. The Lord has spoken this word’ (Isaiah 24:3).

Isaiah married a woman known as ‘the prophetess’ (8:3). We do not know why she was given this name. Some believe she may have carried out a prophetic ministry in her own right, just like Deborah (Judges 4:4) or Huldah (2 Kings 22:14–20). Others say, however, she was simply the wife of ‘the prophet’ (38:1), and was not herself endowed with prophetic gifts.

    Isaiah was probably about twenty years of age when he began his public ministry. He was a citizen — perhaps a native — of Jerusalem. His writings give unmistakable signs of high culture: he was an official prophet at the Royal Court, and prophesied during the reigns of four of the Judah kings: Uzziah (or ‘Azariah’), Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah (1:1). Uzziah reigned fifty-two years in the middle of the eighth-century bc, so Isaiah must have begun his career a few years before Uzziah’s death — probably in the 740s bc. He lived until the fourteenth year of Hezekiah (who died in 698 bc), and may have been contemporary with Kings Manasseh; so Isaiah seems to have prophesied for at least forty-four years.

    But even this long life is too short to allow us say that he wrote everything in what we now call ‘the Book of Isaiah’. The later chapters (i.e. 40–end) were certainly written a century or so later, by an anonymous prophet who copied Isaiah’s style but preached a message vastly more hopeful than anything seen before.

    In his youth, Isaiah must have been seen the invasion of Israel by the Assyrian tyrant, King Tiglath-Pileser III (2 Kings 15:19). He would have witnessed first-hand the subsequent conquest and (what we would now call) genocide and crimes against humanity.

Some of Isaiah’s most moving poetry was directed against King Ahaz: despite the escalation of the war, and the atrocities against the Judean people, King Ahaz refused to co-operate with the kings of Israel and Syria to oppose the Assyrian aggressor, and was on that account attacked and defeated by Pekah of Israel and Rezin of Damascus (2 Kings 16:5; 2 Chronicles 28:5–6). Having been humbled in this way, Ahaz sided with Assyria, and sought the aid of Tiglath-Pileser against Israel and Syria. In consequence, Rezin and Pekah were both conquered and many of the people carried captive to Assyria (2 Kings 15:29, 16:9; 1 Chronicles 5:26).

    Both Jewish and Christian traditions believe that Isaiah was killed by being sawn in half with a wooden saw. Some interpreters believe that this is what is referred to in the New Testament verse Hebrews 11:37, which states that ‘some prophets’ were ‘sawn in two’ — presumably as a punishment for opposing the Assyrians.

Three wise men

The wise men are also known as the ‘the three kings’ and the ‘Magi’. They appear only in Matthew’s Gospel. Matthew does not say much about them, so Christian tradition has filled the void left by silence.

         The magi were a group of foreigners who visited Jesus after his birth, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. They are regular figures in traditional accounts of the nativity cele brations of Christmas and play an important part in the Christian tradition. We remember them particularly at Epiphany and the season named after it. The feast of Epiphany itself occurs on 6 January each year.

According to Matthew the Magi came ‘from the east’ to worship the ‘king of the Jews’. Although Matthew’s account does not mention the number of these Magi, the three gifts has led to the widespread
assumption that they comprised three men. In Eastern Christianity, especially the Syriac churches, the Magi number twelve. Their identification as kings comes from much later, and is probably linked to Psalms 72:11, ‘May all kings fall down before him’.

Traditional nativity scenes depict these three kings visiting the infant Jesus on the night of his birth, at the same time as the shepherds and angels, but this idea is merely an artistic convention to allow the two separate scenes of the Adoration of the Shepherds on the birth night and the later Adoration of the Magi to be combined for convenience. Matthew’s account simply presents an event at an unspecified (but later) time after Jesus’ birth in which an unnumbered party of unnamed Magi visits Jesus in a house rather than a stable, with only ‘his mother’ mentioned as present.

The New Testament does not give the names of the Magi but later traditions and legends give them names. In the Western Christian church they have all been regarded as saints and are commonly known as:

o Caspar (also Gaspar, Jaspar, Jaspas, Gathaspa, and other variations), an Indian scholar.

o Balthazar (also Balthasar, Balthassar, and Bithisarea), a Babylon ian scholar.

o Melchior, a Persian scholar.

But it gets more complicated. By the later Middle Ages, Balthasar was said to be a king of Arabia, Melchior was a king of Persia, and Gaspar was a king from India.

Matthew explicitly identifies the Magi offering three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Gold recognising kingship in the recipient, itself implying that Jesus was (or would be) a king. Frankincense is an aromatic gum that is burnt during worship, so presenting Jesus with incense implies a sense of divinity: Jesus is God. And myrrh is a mixture of spices used to anoint the dead and thereby helps stop the decay of a corpse, so offering myrrh to Jesus is a prophecy of Jesus’ death and its importance for us.

Further traditions exist. One suggests the magi converted to Christianity and were later martyred for their new-found faith.
    Certainly, by the late third-century, their bodies were venerated at a shrine in Constantinople, reputedly brought there by Helena the mother of Emperor Constantine the Great. Their relics were moved to Milan in 344. When Frederick I, Holy Roman Emperor (Barbarossa) imposed his authority on Milan, he moved the relics again, this time to Cologne Cathedral, and built there the Shrine of the Three Kings, where they are venerated today.

Resolutions

I’ve just returned from a service in Church. It was in many respects a ‘normal’ service but somehow everything came together to create an event of great beauty. The Church itself looked a spectacle with fairy lights and candles. I felt a sense of peace permeating everything and the tangible presence of God gave a sensation of unfathomable depth. But the Oldham weather enveloped me as soon as I stepped out from the Church. The contrast was hideous, and seemed determined to rob me of the benefits of worship.

    As we start a New Year, many of us will adopt a resolution or two, seeking to becoming different, better people. It’s a good idea provided we are sensible and realistic. My resolution is to try to keep hold of the wonder of God that I sensed in Church, and carry it with me as I go around the Parish and wider ministries that God requires of me.

    The idea is simple enough but in practice I’m sure I’ll struggle; godliness is always difficult because the powers of darkness work day and night to stop us being the people God want us to be. That’s why we are distracted so easily. That’s why we fall.

    Everyone who truly wants a life of holiness needs to ask God’s protection — and often. The good news is that God wants us to be such people, and he readily answers all such prayers. We need to offer God such a prayer quite often, but God will not think we are nagging Him.Indeed, there are several parables in the Bible reminding us to ask continually.

    Church beckons, so I must return to the holy house of God. Like a rechargeable battery, frequent times in Church will help recharge my spirituality if I ‘leak’. So in all these ways, I will be able to fulfil my resolution. And so can you.