• Whither the Chrism Mass?

    I have a little list of those liturgical moments in the life of the church that I think could do with a bit of a rethink. Some of the most popular and well attended things that happen in churches would make it onto my list. Mothering Sunday and Remembrance Sunday are both on my little list. However, towering above them, comes a service that most Christians will never attend – the Chrism Mass.

    One of the things that I realised a few years ago was that the services which I’m most apprehensive about are often the services which don’t have a terribly long standing place in the Christian Calendar. They’ve not been in there that long, if they are fully in there at all. I’m attracted to a comment that a friend made this year about Mothering Sunday – that we should keep the commercial reality of Mothers’ Day and, if it makes sense in our lives, live it large but that the kitsch, sentimental, more modern and so very often upsetting Mothering Sunday stuff we should have no hesitation in expunging from our common ecclesiastical life.

    The Chrism Mass is much like Mothering Sunday and Remembrance Sunday in that lots of people have very strong opinions about how it should be celebrated and what it represents.

    The trouble is, there’s never been a common mind in the church about what those essential things are.

    And the consequence if you are the ring-master, is almost inevitably conflict and upset.

    The Chrism Mass, for those who’ve not a clue what I’m talking about, is one of those liturgies invented in the second-half of the twentieth century and which has acquired a curious patina of fake ageing. The idea is that the Bishop should bless the oils for the diocese for the coming year, surrounded by clergy of the diocese who will all joyfully reaffirm their ordination vows. And all this on Maundy Thursday.

    Now, there are some shreds and patches from history from which this rather elaborate quilt has been inelegantly stitched together. No doubt bishops did indeed consecrate holy oil.  However, the idea that diocesan clergy all “traditionally” gathered around them through the ages from Maundy Thursday to Maundy Thursday to renew their vows is patently absurd. We struggle to get half the clergy to come to St Mary’s for this ceremony and we’ve got motorways and motorcars. People did not, you must trust me on this one, nip in from all over Strathclyde, to renew their vows every Maundy Thursday with St Mungo. Geography and the lack of the electric train system gives the lie to the spurious claims sometimes made about these liturgies.

    These are some of the truths that I have learned about Chrism Masses over the years:

    • They *must* be held on Maundy Thursday. That is the traditional day.
    • They must *not* be held on Maundy Thursday – clergy are far too busy to be gathered together at that point in Holy Week
    • The renewal of vows is something that is intrinsic to the life of the priest
    • No-one should be expected to renew vows *unless they have consciously broken them*
    • We’ve *all* broken them
    • We’ve *not* all broken them
    • They happen in *every* diocese all over the world.
    • Some dioceses have *never* had them
    • The bishop is in charge – it is a *diocesan* service.
    • The cathedral is in charge – it is a *cathedral* service.  (oh yes!)

    And so on. The competing truths about Chrism Masses lead almost inevitably to conflict.

    Then, add fresh conflict onto that.

    Chrism Masses in some parts of the church – (Englandshire, I’m talking about you here) have become bizarre tests of loyalty as to which bishop your theological peccadillos most match.

    Yes, the English heresy of Pick Your Own Bishop reaches a great climax with competing Chrism Masses which become tests of loyalty. If you can’t affirm the ordination of priests or bishops who happen to be women then you’ll take yourself off (in the name of unity and keeping the church catholic and united) to a separate Chrism Mass with a bishop who can’t affirm them either.

    Sometimes there’s unintentional absurdities thrown into the mix too. I discovered a few years ago that the liturgy that I’d inherited here had people “reaffirming” the English ordination vows, which most of us had never made. (And that can really matter – the last thing we want is our bishops in Scotland believing that they are the focus of unity for a diocese as the English vows assert and which our Scottish ordinal steers well clear of).

    And that’s a real question – how do you affirm vows that you didn’t once make. I have the same trouble over affirming baptismal vows at Easter. I never made any when I was baptised – I just wanted to be baptised, so I struggle a bit with the idea of affirming or renewing anything.

    Some people always come to the Chrism Mass and love it. And for them, I try to put on a Chrism Mass, when I’m called to put on one, which they will recognise and enjoy. We did pretty well on Saturday with Bishop John coming over and celebrating for us in Glasgow, Bishop Gregor still being off sick. It was jolly enough but it is clear that this just isn’t important to some people, and I’ve got to admit, for the sake of honesty that I do have some sympathy with them too. (When I lived in the Diocese of Bridge of Allan, I can’t say I was terribly diligent in running up the road to Perth for the Chrism).

    So what would I do if I were the Lord High Arbiter of Liturgy for the Universe? (Apart from warding off all the other pretenders to that role).

    These are the conversations about the Chrism that I’d be looking to start:

    • Is the pairing of the ceremony of the oils and the renewal of vows an appropriate and natural one?
    • Is there anything to be learned from the experience of the Diocese of Argyll and The Isles which I think celebrates the Chrism Mass at their Diocesan Synod – just because of geography?
    • Should the clergy consider affirming their sense of themselves in private at a Clergy Conference if that’s what they need to do?
    • If not, which lay people should be present and to whom are these vow renewals addressed?
    • Do they (sorry, I mean we) need to do it anyway?
    • How do we affirm callings to the episcopate, priesthood and diaconate in an appropriate way in churches which affirm other kinds of ministries?

    Some liturgies feel terribly blocked by the sense that Things Have Always Happened This Way when in fact they’ve happened this way since the 1970s. The Chrism Mass is one such. I wish we had a way of thinking it all through from first principles again though my hunch is that that possibility is long gone.

    Maybe it will evolve over time naturally.

    This little Christian in his small corner of the vineyard rather hopes so.

     

4 responses to “The Privatization of Public Space and the Commonwealth Games”

  1. Christine McIntosh Avatar

    We were there yesterday as well – you should use Swarm and I might have known! But we left after the first gate for the same reasons as you’re complaining here – that feeling of being in school, or a prison, perhaps. Not a good move, Glasgow!

  2. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > More troubling to me is that people on the Green were apparently being told to cover up YES badges indicating their support for Scottish Independence.

    What about people with NO badges? Or was no-one wearing one?!

    Seriously, a good post and I agree with it.

  3. Matthew Pemble Avatar
    Matthew Pemble

    I was not only frisked each way walking from Douglas St to “The Hub” (back of the Science Centre) but, on the way back when I was actually going to stop in the BBC’s carnival to buy some (in the end, over-priced and under-nice) lunch, the security weasel suggested that I might like to opt out of walking through a public right of way and go some 500m elsewhere so I wasn’t an inconvenience to her and her colleagues.

    A. She wasn’t a volunteer.
    B. The restriction of individual liberty is the first and most desired recourse of petty British officialdom.
    C. Unlike petty French officialdom, whose first and most desires recourse is Madam Guillotine.

  4. Alan McManus Avatar

    After a PR blunder involving a local Guru of ethnic minority (technically the majority) Herod was anxious to be seen to be benevolent. “5K” had a historical precedent; the concept was simple, marketable and had obvious corporate tie-ins with opportunities for merchandising. The Vizier sourced another Guru, a cousin of the dead one but with better ratings and demographics (and a lot more camera-friendly). Generic ads (CARING/ SHARING/ WEALTH CREATION) went viral on social media, the venue was booked and tickets (£15) sold online.
    Jesus proved difficult from the start. He wanted it free and couldn’t see the need to fence the Table. He couldn’t even see the need for the Table. “Okay” said the Vizier (whose eyes kept glazing over as Security patched in on his Link-Up) “we love you, we love the robes and sandals, we love the concept – yeah? Let’s just keep the synergy flowing and focus on half-full, blue skies – sorry – Mike? Yeah PR here, how’s that bulldozing going? Yeah? Flat. And can you schmooze the protesters off-camera? Yeah. We’ll need the whole space for carparking. Sorry – so, Jesus, right? Cool. Just some Health & Safety details to go over:
    • Bread ‘n Fishes shrinkwrapped 5K pax must remain in the corporate cooler till distribution by authorised personnel only – all in Hi Viz.
    • No healing or blessing, it’s just too big a crowd and we don’t want a crush at the barriers (also healing kinda spins our plucky human interest stories outta line).
    Your slot is 3 mins max, Jesus, we’ve drafted your mission statement, here. Any vocab issues? We want the tone local, down with the Palestinian people, not too obviously Roman. Let’s just go over it:
    1. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s (we don’t do God)
    2. Yes you can! (can you avoid the whole structural poverty rant? it comes across as patronising and we want to emphasise equal opportunity)
    3. The parable of the talents (just as it is)
    Cool.”
    Everything went smoothly on the day. The whole area had been cleared of undesirables and Herod’s helicopters, horseguards and hounds kept the peace in the huge crowd packed between the steel barriers, happily clutching their tokens for Bread ‘n Fishes; tasteful woven willow miniature food baskets (blessed ones £5 extra) and leaflets for voluntourism. Alternating muzak and plucky soundbites on the massive LED screens kept the crowd amused while they waited for the main act.
    Which never came. Jesus had slipped through the crowds and walked away.

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