The Lenten Array by the Very Reverend A. S. Duncan Jones, B.D.

While the time for the Lenten Array is past, I recently discovered that the Warham Guild Tract by the Dean of Chichester Cathedral is apparently completely unavailable. Copies are not to be found on any of the used book outlets nor does it seem to be posted anywhere on the Internet. As this site is dedicated to the Anglican Use, it seemed to me a very necessary thing that the text (and perhaps later, the illustrations) of this important piece of Anglicana be made available and that as quickly as possible. So here it is!

Since early days the season of Lent has had a special character as a time of preparation for Easter. The length of the period has varied. Originally Lent seems to have been no more than a week before Easter. But by the beginning of the fourth century the period of forty days was establishing itself. The lengthening process can be traced in the letter which S. Athanasius each year wrote to his suffragans informing them of the date of Easter. The underlying conception of the observance also changed as time went on. Originally teaching was the prominent feature. Lent was the time when catechumens wee prepared for the great baptismal service, which took place on Easter Eve. Then it came to be thought of as a time in hich penitents prepared themselves for the absolution which would admit them to Communion at Easter. From this the idea developed that Lent was a time of pentitential retreat for ordinary Christians. Thus it was natural that an increasing stress was laid on fasting. Teaching and fasting became the essentials of Lenten discipline. It is a period of spiritual instruction and refreshment, in which many pleasures and diversions are deduced or put away, not at all because they are necessarily bad, but because they interfere with the concentration and the recollection that the soul needs, if it is to progress on the road to heaven.

In the fast of Lent penitence undoubtedly has its place though the day before Lent begins, Shrove Tuesday, is especially the day which invites to this discipline. Lent itself should be dominated more by the thought of what is coming than by dwelling on the past. Easter with its assurance of God's triumph sheds its radiance increasingly over Lent the cleansing of mind and heart and will are under taken in response to the promise of newness of life. Viewed in this way, Lent is not a period of gloom or brooding, but of fresh vigour. Its effect should be bracing not enervating. The spirit that it should call out is that of the athlete who goes into training that he may run his race with greater success.

The spiritual idea implicit in the Lenten observance are of importance, because they largely determine the owtward symbols which convey to the worshipper the meaning of what he is doing. When the mediaeval Christian in Western Europe entered his parish church a sight met his eyes which at once brought home to him in striking fashion the special character of Lent. Every image and picture was shrouded in linen cloths. The gleaming reredoses were closed or covered up. The very altar itself was shielded from gaze by a long curtain which separated the presbytery from the choir. Behind that veil the Eucharist was celebrated with a mystery that savoured more of East than of West. So far as the veiling of the altar was concerned, it was, in fact, a reversion to earlier custom, and recalled the days when curtains completely surrounded the altar, suspended from the ciborium or roof supported by four pillars which enshrined it. When it is remembered how large a part in mediaeval devotion was played by vivid picture and bright imagery, it will be seen that the impression made on the simplest peasant must have been profound. He had entered on a holy time--forty days of austerity. 'All things,' says an old writer, 'that make to the adornment of the church are either laid aside or else covered, to put us in remembrance that we ought now to lament and mourn for our souls dead in sin and continually to watch, fast, pray, and give alms.'

The impression of austerity was increased by the nature of the material used and by its colour. The veils were for the most part of white linen, and the effect was doubtless, much that which the visitor to a great house experiences when--in the absence of the family--he passes through spacious saloons in which the rich silks and brocades are protected from sun and dust by linen coverings. What gives special interest to the practice is the fact that the use of white linen for altars and so forth contradicted the rules that were supposed to govern the colour assigned to Lent, which was, for example, red at Sarum and black at Westminster. From the covering of altars and images the use of white linen spread to the vesture of the clergy. Thus in 1472 we read of a lady who gave to Salisbury two altar cloths of linen powdered with purple crosses and 'a chasuble with all the apparel to the same belonging'; and at about the same time at Westminster it is recorded that the chapel of our Lady had an old chasuble of white for Lent. By the middle of the fourteenth century indeed white linen had become the well-nigh universal custom throughout England. Examples of white linen vestments and frontals throughout a period of two centuries before the Reformation can be gathered from every English diocese, save one--and that the remote Diocese of Carlisle, for which no information is available. The use is found in cathedral, religous house, and parish church alike. The custom is not merely English. A parallel can be found in France, where ash colour continued to be the Lenten use right down to the eighteeenth century at Lyon, Paris, Chartres, Bourges, Frejus, and Poitiers, and even into the nineteenth century at Meaux, Versailles, Pamiers, and Autun.

The inventories made in the reign of King Edward VI, when his government impounded everything of value in the churches to pay for the huge debt that they had accumulated, tell their own tale. We read of the great curtain of linen used in Lent in Exeter Cathedral; and in the parish churches throughout the land we find such entries as the veil, the covering for the rood, the canopy of cloth, vestments of white fustian and white bustian, and Lenten cloths. There can be no doubt what was the custom in England in that second year of the reign of King Edward VI to which our Ornaments Rubric points as a guide.

In modern times the Lenten array of white linen has grown steadily in favour. It has been recognized that this old custom has a teaching value that specially meets the need of today better than the sombre violet and black that gradually spread over the Church in Europe from the sixteenth century onwards. The white linen betokens an austerity which is not without cheerfulness, the spirit of Him Who said, 'When ye fast, be not of a sad countenance.' It typifies clean Lent; the time when the spirit rejoices because it is freeing itself from the encumbrances of luxury, the enervation of solf living. The Lenten array is, as it has been said, like a light fall of snow which brightens the hard earth; it is significant of expectation, of the time when once more the glory of colour and carving will break out in salutation of the Risen Lord. It sorts well with the spring of the year with its promise of flower and fruit.

It is usual to place on the linen that shrouds the altar some sign of its dedication. The symbol of the mystery or saint light worked or painted contains a hint of what lies behind and thus adds to the sense of expectancy. It is possible to overdo this aspect of the Lenten array, so that what results is merely another piece of magnificence that draws attention to itself, instead of directing the mind away from the seen to the unseen glory of God. Some will feel that possibly in certain of the examples here shown, the natural instinct of the artist to enrich has prevailed over the effort to subdue adornment. Certainly sobriety in the use of symbol sorts best with the purpose of Lent, even if the symbols be those of the Passion itself. Too much detail detracts from the desired starkness.

Opinions are divided about the veiling of the rood--if there be one--or the cross onthe altar. To some it will seem appropriate that objects which are in themselves works of art shoud for this season be shrouded. We are assuming, of course, that they are works of art, which unfortunately, is not always true. Others would maintain that Lent is just the time when the symbol of redemption should stand out with special clearness by contrast with the hiding of every other ornament. There can be no question, at any rate, that, when a large sheet hangs before the rood, with a plain red cross displayed upon it, the worshipper is lead to concentrate on the inner meaning of the Passion in its severity, just for those weeks when it is right that the price of man's salvation should be placarded before the eyes of the worshipper.

To turn to the practical aspect of the array, the following materials may well be used.

White-toned linens, not too fine, either plain or figured, are the most suitable materials for the hangings, and for covering pictures and other ornaments. If the frontal, dorsal, or covers are to be stencilled, it is advisable to use the plain linen. The frontal and dorsal can be treated in several ways, either stencilled in red, or in red, grey and black, with symbols of the Passion, powdered with roses or crosses, or with an emblem of the saint in whose honour the church is dedicated--so long as this be done with restraint. The frontal can be made quite plain with a red flax fringe, or orphreys of red braid can be used effectively. The dorsal and riddels hung full from red cords re simple and effective, or the can be made full on an open hem. Another method is to have a plain dorsal with a cross in the center of each end.

It is advisable that stencilling should not be attempted by amateurs; the whole effect is spoiled if there be not a proper balance in the design.

It is useful to have plain wooden candlesticks with can be painted red in place of the metal or ornamental wood ornaments. The altar cross can be covered with a linen veil or removed altogether.

During the last two weeks in Lent the frontal may be removed and one made of a dull red linen, quite plain or with black orphreys, be put in its place, to mark Passiontide.

The great point of the traditional Lenten array is that it enforces the lessons of the season better than any alternative method. The shrouded altars speak of renunciation and expectation; the colour and quality of the material, plain, but bright, strengthen the appeal, to concentrate devotion on the plea for the creation of a new and contrite heart: 'Make me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.'

Old School Ties - Someone Else's

The English have a charming custom of creating school and regimental ties which serve as signals to those who have attended the same school or served in the same regiment. It is pretty much the equivalent of the sports paraphernalia of which Americans are so fond, but much more discrete and elegant. You don't have to wear your own school or regimental ties, but you are really not supposed to wear the tie of a school or regiment of which you were never apart. It is considered very bad form, rather like pretending that you were a veteran of service in Korea or Vietnam when you were never in the military.
I have a habit, probably sinful, of surfing the web looking at photos of famous Anglican churches, especially those of famous Anglican architects such as John Ninian Comper, my very favorite. But I also go back and look for the websites of churches I once attended or had to which I had other connections. This can be very bad for you especially when you find how far from grace they have fallen. For instance there is one in London of which I was very fond and which still advertises itself as being in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, but whose new assistant (I am not going to call her a priest) is Mother Mary Elizabeth. Bishop Gore is probably spinning in his grave.
But the one which caught my eye recently was the New York parish whose one time rector became the bishop of Springfield and the chief bishop at the Denver consecrations. Needless to say, its present condition would be a shock to Bishop Chambers as it has taken on the full burden of late Baroque Roman bad taste." Yes, they have taken to the wearing of fiddlebacks and very skimpy ones at that. And worse, the albs are now of lace and the cottas of the servers lace trimmed. In Chamber's day lace albs were never used and the lace cottas we had at that time were only used when the very wealthy woman who donated them decided to show for a very ocassional Sunday service. And that would have been like one every two years or so.

I know that these "Latin" vestments are supposed to be the very highest proof of Anglo=Catholicism because they were what Roman churches came to use from the late Renaissance through the Baroque right up to the modern age when suddenly they realized that they were dead ugly. Indeed, the last few popes seemed never to have touched them, but here was one more formerly Anglican church of good reputation wearing the discards of another and lesser tradition. This is especially galling as that church has already abandoned them. Oh, Rome will still wear the lace albs and the rochets and cottas dripping with lace, but the tablard imitations of real chasubles, dalmatics and tunicles is almost completely a thing of the past which is something which Rome's greatest liturgists would certainly have applauded.

So why do some who think themselves Anglicans keep it up? Frankly, I don't have a real answer, but I think it has to do with the spirit of rebellion that infused the most leftist, effeminate, pinko wing of Anglican high churchmanship in the early twentieth century. Among those who entered the priesthood in England and the North Eastern United states there was a spirit of rebellion against the establishment by those who were the most visible sons of same. It was as if they would and did do anything which would embarrass their families and their class while pretending (and maybe even believing) they were more Christian than the rest of us. And while some of them were quite saintly indeed, many of them helped to make both the Episcopal Church and the Church of England into much the moral and sexual cesspools which they became in the last century.

The greats of the Tractarian Movement were not ritualists. They believed that it was more important to preach, teach and practise the faith rather than make a show of it. Even the very blessed Dr Pusey only begin to wear the traditional eucharistic vestments at the end of his life and then only in the chapel of the religious community which he was instrumental in founding. The classical prayer book tradition by means of the Ornaments Rubric requires them and so all who are ordained should wear them. But, and this is a very big one, they should be worn in the Anglican tradition which is and should be one of "antiquity, antiquity, antiquity." We should not be imitating the debased traditions of the Church of Rome. What we should do and have done, is to teach even Rome what is right. Our liturgical tradition in vestments and ceremonial should be based upon that of the English Church just before the first prayer book and that would mean upon the tradition of the Use of the great church of Sarum as all of the other English uses had been suppressed in 1541 in its favour. If we do so we will have an Anglicanism which is everywhere instantly recognizeable and vastly attractive while shedding the false tradition which lost the moral high ground in Anglicanism all over the world in favour of the too sweet smell of lavender and old lace.