Making the Most of the Lectionary

A User's Guide

Thomas O'Loughlin

• Publisher: SPCK Publishing
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9780281065875
• eBook ISBN: 9780281065882
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Church

What is the point of the Lectionary? What are the problems and opportunities that it presents to those who use it? What are its strengths and weaknesses as an aid to worship? How can it be used and communicated most effectively today? These are among the key questions that Thomas O'Loughlin explores in this stimulating and much-needed guide.

Part 1

BASIC QUESTIONS

1

Why do we read the Scriptures at the Eucharist?

Is this a question?

‘Why read the Bible in church?’ What a question! Is it not simply a ‘given’ that when we assemble as Christians, then we must read from the Scriptures? After all, did not even Jesus do it when he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath (Luke 4.16–30)? So ingrained is the notion that ‘when we gather, then we read from the Bible’ that this is one of the very few activities that can be found right across the Christian spectrum on any Sunday morning. At one end of the spectrum we can imagine a Pentecostal gathering with its band in a central position on a stage, but nearby will be a pulpit, lectern or reading desk with a Bible, while the worship leader will carry a Bible in his hand like a staff of office: reading from that book somehow underwrites the authority of the event. At the other end of the spectrum come the Catholic and Orthodox gatherings. Here the Mass, Eucharist or Divine Liturgy is the central and unvarying focus of Sunday, and it is the significance of the Eucharist, as such, that explains the significance of the gathering, yet the greatest part of the time is taken up with the reading of the Scriptures and their explanation in preaching (or, at least, that is supposed to be the focus of preaching). Almost no Catholic or Orthodox Christian would say that he or she attends the Eucharist for the readings, yet vast amounts of effort are expended in training clergy to lead this Liturgy of the Word.1 If for many Catholics and Orthodox the readings are simply a preamble to ‘the real business’ of Sunday, the Eucharist, then, by contrast, for many mainstream Protestant churches it is the reading and the preaching that have the primary place on a Sunday, and the less frequent Lord’s Supper, or Holy Communion, is seen as somehow an addition to the normal weekly fare of the readings. But in every case, the reading of passages from the same collection, more or less, of ancient authors constitutes a central religious action and a focus for the community’s gathering.

Moreover, in recent decades most Western churches with fixed liturgical forms (Catholics, Anglicans, Lutherans . . . ) have revised their liturgies not just for the Eucharist but right across the board, and a feature of these revisions has been either an increase in the use of the Scriptures or the introduction of a Liturgy of the Word where there had not formerly been one. So, for example, until 1971 the Catholic liturgy of Baptism had no readings from Scripture, but today it has a Liturgy of the Word which, in structure, is identical to that at the Eucharist: Old Testament reading, Psalm, New Testament Letter, Gospel, Homily, before proceeding with the actual act of baptizing – and similar developments have taken place in many other churches. And for most Western churches, beginning with the Catholics in 1969, the volume of Scripture read each Sunday has increased, while the range of biblical material used in the whole cycle of liturgy has more than tripled. The result of these developments is this: more use is being made of the Scriptures in worship today than at any time in the past two millennia. But the fact that we all do this, and imagine we have always done this, does not explain why we do it.

How we set about answering this question will, in turn, reflect other aspects of our own personal theologies, revealing positions that often lurk, almost unrecognized, in the background of our attitudes to liturgy and to the biblical readings in our assemblies. Here are three very common explanations that one finds when one probes this question with Christians (and, to a large extent, it does not seem to matter whether or not they are laypeople or clergy).

‘The Bible = God’s revelation’

Is the Bible the actual revelation of God or is it a record of that revelation? This is a fundamental question: how we answer it will affect every aspect of how we approach the Scriptures. Many Christians imagine that the Bible is like God’s ‘instruction manual’ for life and happiness, and that any historical details we recall in the stories in the book simply refer to what is the delivery mechanism for the sacred text. This approach has a long history in Christianity and its focus on ‘the book’ is reinforced by the fact that it allows apparently simple comparisons of the Christian message with that of other philosophies and religions. However, the mainline position within Christianity (and within Judaism) is that God has not given us a book, but revealed his love – and so his identity – in a series of mighty acts: choosing a people, delivering them from slavery, establishing a standing relationship (‘the covenant’) with them, guiding them by prophets, and showing his care in umpteen other ways. And for his followers, the advent of Jesus is the event that brings the other events to completion: he sets up a new relationship sealed in his own blood on the cross, and reveals in himself the inner life of God. These events are remembered by his people, and committed to writing: hence, these writings are the aide-memoire of the community founded in the divine actions.

For those who take the first approach – the Bible = what God wants us to know and believe – there is then little question about why we read whenever we gather: reading the Bible equals acquaintance with God. For them the question often becomes: why do anything else when we gather except listen (and perhaps have an expert explanation)? Or, if we are all literate, why not just let everyone read for themselves? It was a variant of this approach to the Bible that led many groups at the Reformation to abandon the notion of a weekly Eucharist in favour of gathering for listening to the Scriptures and to preaching. The reverse is also true: if you are gathering for the Eucharist, then you are already committed to a notion of revelation that is based in events remembered, and reading will then be a support to the act of recollection and the discovery of the significance of events. It is worth noting, however, that one of the tensions in any gathering for the Eucharist is that there will be those whose approach to the Bible is such that they cannot see the Lectionary’s readings in the larger context of the eucharistic event which is actually taking place: the emphasis may be so placed on the readings, that the eucharistic meal comes to be regarded as just an afterthought. That said, in encountering the Scriptures we, through the Spirit, encounter the presence of God.

‘We need teaching and a programme of teaching’

If you look at the shape of most older church buildings and a traditional classroom or lecture hall you will notice, immediately, certain similarities of organization and function. This is not accidental: the classroom is copied from the church; both are locations where a teacher imparts instruction to those who stand in need of it. And as the textbooks of maths, grammar or science instruct people in matters of earthly importance, so the textbooks in ‘things divine’ (the Scriptures) instruct us in the mysteries of the higher world. One set of books is studied in the classroom, the other in the chapel. This is a neat and convenient ordering of reality that can be traced back to the time of Cassiodorus (c.490 – c.580) and has inspired monks and teachers ever since. It is a pattern that still can be found underlying many theology programmes, and it operates just under the surface for many clergy in the way they view the Scriptures. This approach sees the time of the readings as, in effect, a class for either teaching about the Scriptures, imparting their content, or using them as the basis for teaching the belief system of Christians.

The problem with this approach is that it is not clear how the readings constitute liturgy as distinct from having the ‘school hour’ attached to the ‘worship hour’. Likewise, when teaching becomes the dominant note, it is not clear why we do not organize the readings around a teaching plan, or, at least, around clear themes. Moreover, while a Christian teacher might want to teach about Jesus or read Paul (always a favourite with those who focus on the readings as ‘teaching’), it is not at all clear why we should read some of the Old Testament passages we find set out. For those who want to view the Liturgy of the Word as a class, there is often a great desire to omit or tidy up readings, or even to replace them with items that ‘bring the theme out clearly’. So why, for this group, are there readings at the Eucharist? Because we need instruction and this is a convenient time for it. However, as we find the readings laid out for us in the Lectionary, they are seen as part of the worship of a community of believers, not as a class for carrying out either basic evangelization or catechetical instruction. That said, whenever the Scriptures are read, and preaching takes place, there is a dimension of teaching or formation to the event, and we have to reckon with this as well as recognizing that the practice of liturgy (i.e., doing what the community does when it is together) should be a key way of learning what is involved in a life of discipleship.

‘We need some inspiration and reflection in our lives’

We need to be recalled to the great truths, we need to set our lives in perspective, we need the calming effect of some philosophy and the vision of the ‘big picture’. When can we get this ‘inspiration’? When we gather for an hour’s calm and reflection on a Sunday morning: this should be a time to think good thoughts and refresh ourselves! The homily, consequently, should not be expository but ‘something to take away’ – a ‘thought for the day’. If the second approach – the Liturgy of the Word is a Bible class or a period of doctrinal instruction – tends to be an attitude very common among leaders of worship, then the notion that the readings should be inspirational ‘food for the soul’ tends to be found among those who are not ministers. The position is a deeply problematic one in that it applies to liturgy (literally: the public service of God) a consumerist view of Sunday morning: I join the gathering for what it gives me, what I can take away from it, and one wonders whether or not these ‘wants’ could be better fulfilled by some Sunday morning radio programme with a reflective tone, which would also allow us to avoid the disquiet of having to gather, interact, and sit in an uncomfortable pew! ‘Some people go to church to get spirituality, but I get it walking in the park’ is emblematic of this consumerist approach, and many who actually gather share the approach but simply substitute the source: they expect it from what they hear – but this often subjects the liturgy to a test (i.e., to supply my want for some ‘spirituality’) which it will very often fail. Liturgical gatherings exist so that we can remember – an activity covering the whole of the liturgy and not just the readings – and on the basis of remembering, give thanks to the Father in and through Jesus.

However, there will be many people in any congregation that believe the readings are there for enlightenment and inspiration, yet they may find they are disappointed more often than not. Many of the Old Testament readings will simply generate a ‘So what?’ response, while Paul’s concerns about the self-understanding of the early churches – with the exception of 1 Corinthians 12.31—13.13 – may seem ‘irrelevant’. The Gospels might seem a better bet because of the widespread notion that they contain the ‘wise words of Jesus’, but some of the parables (e.g. Matt. 20.1–16) simply seem unjust and irritating. So while the notion of ‘readings are there to inspire us’ is a common justification of a Liturgy of the Word, it is one that does not long survive the test of reality. That said, it should be the concern of every minister that, through the Liturgy of the Word, discipleship is nourished and the gathering helped to proceed along its pilgrimage of faith.

Yet, when we think about our gatherings – be it for a Eucharist or for a Baptism – there is no reason, intrinsic to the event for which we have assembled, why we should have readings! The Eucharist is, at its core, a gathering for a meal, a meal which, for all the added layers of significance, is an event in itself when the disciples express their identity in Jesus, continue his meal practice, and express their joy at being ‘called . . . out of darkness into [God’s] marvellous light’ (1 Pet. 2.9 NRSV). Eucharist, as the name implies, is the action of blessing and thanking the Father, in and through Jesus, in the action of sharing a loaf and cup for all that he has done and especially ‘for the life and knowledge which [he has] made known to us’ (Didache 9.3). Within such a meal of thanksgiving to the Father there is no reason why we should gather to listen to readings prior to gathering around the table! Moreover, in neither of the two earliest references (1 Corinthians and the Didache) to this gathering – both of which presuppose a real meal of all the followers of Jesus in a particular place – is there any hint of a synagogue-like assembly beforehand at which ‘the Scriptures’ (i.e., what we call the ‘Old Testament’) were read (> O’Loughlin 2010, 85–104). Similarly, in none of the remembered meals of Jesus – as recounted in the Gospels – or other early references to the meal (e.g. Acts 2.42, 46; Jude 12) is there any reference to a period of readings. It might be objected that the meal in Emmaus is an exception, when the risen Lord explained the Scriptures to them: but this was seen as a unique event and it is presented as taking place after the moment of recognition at the breaking of the loaf (Luke 24.13–35). Likewise, some have sought to explain readings at the Eucharist by parallel with the stories recalled at a Passover meal. But this fails to notice that the Eucharist was from the beginning a weekly celebration modelled on the Sabbath-eve meal and the ‘grace’ that was uttered at that meal. The explanation of the Eucharist in terms of the Passover (as found in Mark 14.14) is a later development.

So we are left with the fact that the ‘Meal of Thanksgiving’, as such, does not need to have a service of readings, but for most of Christian history, and for all communities today, it has been preceded by a period of reading, preaching and intercessory prayer. Equally, while we could imagine a situation where the celebration of the Lord’s message took place at a different time from the celebration of the Lord’s banquet, in the actual world of Christian customs there is always a Liturgy of the Word before any other action of the community.

This invariable practice has two consequences. First, there is often a tension between the sense of joy that is inherent within the community’s ‘Banquet of Thanksgiving’, celebrating the resurrection each Sunday, and the tone of the readings on a particular Sunday. The fact is this: while the liturgy of Baptism will have readings deliberately chosen to provide background to the event, this will not normally be the case at the Eucharist. We have, in effect, two distinct elements joined to one another, each of which has its own integrity and each of which is precious in our view of Christian life. We live with this tension and we address it in many of the variable prayers – such as the variety of Prefaces and Eucharistic Prayers – which seek to link the readings of the day with the fact that we are gathered for the Eucharist. The prayers do this by linking the meal – which has over centuries generated a feast of meanings – to being thankful for some particular aspect of the mystery of Christ such as we might have heard about in the readings. So not only must we acknowledge this tension, but be attentive to the need to draw the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist together ...

Table of contents

• Cover page
• Title page
• Imprint
• Dedication
• Table of contents
• Preface
• Abbreviations
• Introduction
• Part 1: Basic Questions
• Part 2: Lectionaries
• Appendix 1: The sequence of readings for Advent and Christmastide
• Appendix 2: The sequence of readings for Lent and Eastertide
• Appendix 3: The sequence of Gospels, with related first readings, in Ordinary Time
• Appendix 4: The sequence of second readings in Ordinary Time
• Appendix 5: The sequence of semi-continuous first readings in Ordinary Time in RCL (and optionally in CWL)
• Appendix 6: The Lectionaries replaced by RL and CWL
• Appendix 7: The two systems of numbering the Psalms
• Further reading
• Search items for biblical references
• Search items for names and subjects