March 2010

Parish History Episode 107 - The New Services

Four years ago, in March, 2006, an article entitled “Rector Gillow’s Church”, Number 59 in this series, was published in the “Signpost”. It, together with the following two articles, published in April and May of 2006, described how Henry Gillow, Rector of Houghton-le- Spring from 1470 to 1483 (a hundred years before Bernard Gilpin’s time) fulfilled his duties as the priest in charge of this parish. The choice of Henry Gillow as the subject of such a study was made partly because we have more information upon him than upon most of the early rectors of Houghton; but also because he was resident in this parish, unlike so many priests at that time, who seemed more interested in the revenues of a post than in the duties; and also because Gillow seems to have been conscientious in his work, and faithful to the vow of celibacy that he had taken before his ordination. Regrettably, many priests at that time seem to have sat very lightly to that vow.

If Gillow could have returned to see his successor Gilpin at work, he would probably have been surprised by the way that the workload had increased during the course of a century. In Gillow’s time, every priest was required to say Mass daily, and most priests probably attended more than one celebration, acting as altar-boys, if required, at Masses said by their colleagues. There would normally be few if any lay-folk present at a week-day Mass, other perhaps than bereaved persons who had requested a Mass to be said for a relative. But there would of course be other pastoral duties for a priest to undertake. A priest would hear confessions, and would conduct weddings, baptisms and “churchings”. All of these might require additional pastoral work before and after the actual Sacrament. Probably as much or more would be required in Gilpin’s time as in Gillow’s; but it would probably be less than is offered to-day. Everyone took it for granted, in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries alike, that, although it would not always be the case that the lad and lass pledging their vows to each other in the Sacrament of Marriage would be virgins, no couple would set up home together without a formal church wedding. Nobody needed to be taught about the importance of weddings. Similarly, babies had to be baptised - nobody doubted that - but no·one saw any need for any special baptismal instruction beforehand; and similarly, when the baby had been born, the new mother would be expected to go to church, as soon as she was strong enough, probably holding her baby and escorted by female relatives, to give thanks for the safe delivery of her child.

Funerals, then as now, would often require quite a bit of additional pastoral work by a conscientious priest. Some funerals were of old people, perhaps ready to meet their Maker. Others, however, were of much younger folk: a bride dying in childbirth; a young man crushed to death in the collapse of a bell-pit (a primitive type of coal mine); a child dying through some infection, which could now be combatted by drugs. Besides the pastoral work associated with home visits, Rector Gillow would have, if possible, always administered the Sacrament of Extreme Unction (“the Last Rites”) to dying parishioners. Gilpin seems to have done the same on occasion, but it would be increasingly uncommon during Queen Elizabeth’s reign. No provision was now made for the Rite. Other Reformed Churches also abandoned the practice, but the Lutheran Churches, as also of course the Roman Catholics and the Eastern Orthodox, continued to make use of sacramental anointing.

Probably less time was spent then on preparing children for Confirmation than is now the custom. Ideally, the Bishop of Durham, or a suffragan bishop, was expected to ride out and visit each parish at least once a year, and while there he normally confirmed all seven-year-old children. In practice, few bishops achieved this ideal, and many people seem to have gone through their lives without ever being confirmed (but this does not seem to have barred them from Holy Communion).

It seems to have been the case that bishops who served after the Reformation were slightly more conscientious over conducting Confirmations than those who had held office earlier. The explanation for this is probably that they had fewer secular duties than had formally been the case. As the temporal power of the Prince-Bishops declined, so they perhaps took more notice of their spiritual duties.

The bishop, on his visitation to the parish, would probably arrange to be present at a Mass celebrated by the incumbent, or by an assistant curate. This was one way of checking up on a priest’s competence to perform his duties. One difference between an Episcopal visitation in Gillow’s day and Gilpin’s, is that the bishop would expect to hear Bernard Gilpin preach a sermon. Preaching had formerly been almost an optional extra : in the late mediaeval church, it seems to have been a duty fulfilled largely by friars and pardoners - if no such itinerant preachers turned up at the rectory during the week, requesting a few nights’ hospitality, then the congregation at the church would not get a sermon. The rector might occasionally attempt to expound one of his favourite Bible passages, or a tale from the legends about the saints, to his congregation, but he feared that they might nave heard it all before, and so he usually left preaching to the professionals.

But now, after the Reformation, a sermon was seen as an essential part of the Sunday service. Every parson was expected to be able to preach, and a new style of training for the Ministry began to develop. Most priests now began their training at the university, where they spent a great deal of time studying the words and meaning of the Bible, and probably obtained some slight knowledge of Hebrew, and a better competence in Greek (and much of the teaching was in Latin, so they would have had to master that before they even began their studies). They also learned something of Church history, and they attempted to understand theology. Then, when they had graduated, they went off to parishes, and learned the reality of life as the pastor of a community : and one important element in this practical learning would consist of being taught how to deliver an effective sermon.

Some priests had been trained that way before the Reformation. Those were the priests who went on to become bishops and cardinals. But most village priests had started their training as altar-boys, and then they became assistant curates - and many of them would never become the incumbent of a parish. Such peasant priests would be despised by men trained in a university, who accused them of not knowing a word of Latin, but of just being able to mumble through the words of the Mass from memory, without any understanding of what they were saying. But most such peasant priests did understand something of the words they spoke (though perhaps neither they nor the scholars - nor we ourselves, to-day - really comprehended the Mystery that was being celebrated), and such men may have been far better equipped to help and comfort their parishioners than was any cleric with a degree earned at Oxford or Cambridge.

Now, in Gilpin’s time, the words of the Liturgy were to be found in the Book of Common Prayer., in editions based on the 1552 Prayer-Book, written by Thomas Cranmer, the martyred Archbishop of Canterbury. Because of the nature of his martyrdom, Cranmer’s words and ideas had taken on an almost sacred character for the English. And it would seem that Cranmer’s assumption was that, once the Reformation of the Church had been completed, the people of England would lead an almost monastic life (but not of course a celibate life), with the monastic offices being said twice a day, at the time of Morning and Evening Prayer.

This arrangement was not wholly novel. Even before the Reformation, efforts had been made, in town parishes, to persuade the laity to come to church on week-days, and to hear abridged versions of the monastic office being read. However there were also daily Masses being said in the same churches, and most layfolk preferred to attend the Mass. But now there were no week-day Masses (except on a few red-letter days), and the Sacrament of Holy Communion was normally celebrated only on Sunday mornings. That was the service which, after the 1562 Act of Uniformity (requiring absentees to pay a fine of one shilling), every·one attended. All those present were expected to participate, and to partake of the Elements, both Bread and Wine being distributed to the people.

Originally, the seating arrangements for the congregation (movable wooden benches) would be re-arranged for each Celebration, the benches being placed in concentric circles round a central Communion Table, and the Elements presumably circulated from worshipper to worshipper. The present-day layout of the pews, arising from the re-ordering of the church in 2008, has come closer to this ideal than was achieved by the former lay-out of the old pews.

But after a while, it seems, it was felt better to have fewer Celebrations of the Eucharist, perhaps only one a month, with additional Celebrations at Christmas, Easter and Whitsun. Also, in order to accommodate all who now came to church, the benches had to be packed closer together, in straight rows, facing a Communion Table which was itself placed in the (otherwise little-used) chancel, with communicants coming up to the Table, and there partaking of the Bread and Wine before returning to their places.

Another practical problem which arose in a large parish such as Houghton was that of lighting. In that age, before the invention of gas or electric light, candles were required if services were to be held outside the hours of daylight. Therefore a late start was required for the morning service in winter, and an early finish for the evening service. Soon, it became customary to hold the morning service at 11 a.m., and the evening service in the afternoon, at 3 p.m. at the latest.

The parish of Houghton-le-Spring then included a string of settlements running Northto- South from Penshaw, through Newbottle and Houghton to Hetton, with other hamlets among the Herringtons to the East and the Raintons to the West. Also, as coal came to be exploited, small settlements grew up around scattered bell-pits and drifts, particularly on the slopes stretching down to the River Wear, below Penshaw and the Raintons, and also around what is now Philadelphia. The people who lived in these areas would have to walk to and from the parish church, and would hardly have time to enjoy their Sunday lunch if they attended both services. Therefore, all those who dwelt at a distance from the parish church were invited to remain in Houghton between the two services, and to have their Sunday lunch at the Rectory, at the Rector’s expense. Gilpin’s reputation for generosity arises from this custom.

As local folk memory still reveres the memory of Bernard Gilpin as a man of great benevolence, this arrangement obviously impressed people favourably. But how did most people regard the changes which came over public worship at this time?

Many were aware of a sense of loss. Something of the mystery of religion had gone, now that everything was in “a tongue understanded of the people”, and now that the priest stood in full view of the people, celebrated the Mysteries in front of their eyes, and spoke to them in plain English, instead of mumbling in a foreign tongue. Many must have found it awkward at first. Most people probably regretted the whitewashing of the walls, obliterating the murals that had once brightened up the church. Also, many felt a sense of loss in the discontinuance of all sorts of minor rites and ceremonies. The compulsory nature of church attendance after the Act of 1562 must also have been resented by many. A few people, who still had a choice, such as those living close to Alnwick Castle, where the “Old Mass” was still celebrated in the Earl’s private chapel, paid the fine, and worshipped apart.

But while almost all found things to deplore in the new services, it was not long before people began to accept them, and even, it would seem, to prefer them. They had had a foretaste of the Prayer-Book service in King Edward’s time, and they had also, probably, heard much favourable comment from Rector Franklin’s curates, who must have been delighted when they discovered that they were suddenly released from their vows of celibacy.

And so, as the men and women of Houghton heard the Bible read to them in English every Sunday, and as they heard it expounded in sermons, the religion that they had long accepted began to come alive to them, in a more real fashion than before.

The men and women of Queen Elizabeth’s time were in fact regaining long-lost privileges, which their ancestors had surrendered long ago, mostly at the time of the Hildebrandine (or Norman) Reformation, in the Eleventh Century. Once more, Sunday by Sunday (though perhaps not every Sunday), the Body and the Blood of the Lord was being regularly offered to them, in the form of sanctified Bread and Wine. And the Bread was in the form of “real” bread - bread from the baker’s - not in the form of a disc-like Wafer. And everyone, priest and layman alike, shared in the Wine, as in the Bread.

Previously the words of the Mass had been said or muttered (some parts even being “said” in silence) by the priest in the chancel, and the worshipper in the nave hardly felt part of it. Now everything was said clearly, in English, in front of all.

The people may not have participated much, beyond the occasional “Amen” - it would not be possible for all to join in until all were literate. Now they felt part of it, in a way that they hadn’t before.

As no polls of public opinion were taken, we cannot be sure of how well these changes were appreciated. But in the 1960’s most of these changes and more (the English language, Communion in Both Kinds, popular hymns) were introduced into the Roman Catholic Church, and, after an initial period of awkwardness, the changes seem to have been accepted by almost all with enthusiasm; and now “the other Saint Michael’s” (the church in Durham Road) is as sprightly as the old parish church in the Broadway - if not more so!

Dick Toy

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