THIS book reads as though two books have been blended within a single cover. The first, discursive high-end journalism, gathers evidence, much from online sources and blogs, to offer a critique of modern liturgical writing in both the Roman Catholic Church and the Churches of the Anglican Communion. In the second, Barry Spurr applies his considerable expertise in the fields of English language and poetics in-depth analysis. There are seven chapters in all. The longest by far is a detailed and polemically charged analysis of contemporary liturgical writing and experimental worship.

Some of the examples that Spurr presents of the latter are, indeed, ephemeral and banal, but equal scrutiny is applied in the two chapters dealing respectively with the authorised prayer texts in Anglican and RC liturgical writing today. Reviewing the Roman liturgy, he judges the English phrasing of the new order of the mass to be flat and prosaic. Contemporary Anglican provision does not fare much better.

Regarding the Church of England’s Common Worship provision, Spurr asks whether the clergy of today are sufficiently formed liturgically to navigate the various alternatives and options presented in the book. The content is critically evaluated, but it was good to read a positive appraisal of the Times and Seasons services for Holy Week and Easter. So, not all contemporary liturgical writing is summarily dismissed as a disaster, but most of it is.

The broad reach of the book is held together by the overplayed narrative of decline in Anglophone churches; but can such numerical decline in church attendance simply be laid at the feet of the liturgical modernisers? There are wider and more complex social and cultural factors that need to be reckoned with. Further, the challenges to find a register in which to address the God who is both “with us” and “beyond and greater than we are” are considerable. Indeed, reflecting on the quality of language in contemporary political debate, I wonder whether there is any public discourse, beyond repeated verbal tics and sound-bites.

Spurr is correct to say that casting the language of worship in the vernacular is not opting for the conversational language of the street, not least because words of confession and praise of the divine need to carry a weight of meaning which stretches language to the limit. When we repeat the word “holy” in singing the “Holy, holy, holy”, it is not because we cannot find other words, but because we are caught up in the ineffable. In his analysis of the language of worship, Spurr frequently cites the work of David Jasper and Cally Hammond. Both authors are unquestionably wise and reliable guides, but Spurr regrets that their critique is not as trenchant as his.

On the positive side, Spurr reminds us that the language of worship needs to be poetic. Its images need to be arresting and cast in a way that is repetitive (though avoiding the sing-song rhyme of some new English translations of Latin prayers) and memorable. The second chapter on the 1662 Book of Common Prayer will certainly profit the reader. Here, there is high praise for Cranmer’s liturgical writing as being “pitch perfect”, but is the BCP “timeless”? As Spurr himself recognises, there are difficulties, such as the length of some of the prayers and the fact that words, such as “indifferently”, change their meaning over time.

Spurr is aware of the other “languages” of worship, not least posture, ritual gestures, music and song, and silence, and yet, by way of conclusion, he reiterates his view that the only way forward is to return to the past, that is to the Latin mass and the BCP. We should debate questions about the “accessibility” and “clarity” in our words for worship, but can we summarily dismiss the past 50 years of ecumenical liturgical revision, driven as much by theology as by a search for language?

The Revd Christopher Irvine is Canon Librarian and Director of Education at Canterbury Cathedral.

Language in the Liturgy: Past, present, future
Barry Spurr
James Clarke & Co £25
(978-0-227-17979-6)