While many of us are familiar with such famous words as, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here. . ." or "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," we may not know that they originated with The Book of Common Prayer, which first appeared in 1549. Like the words of the King James Bible and Shakespeare, the language of this prayer book has saturated English culture and letters. Here Alan Jacobs tells its story. Jacobs shows how The Book of Common Prayer--from its beginnings as a means of social and political control in the England of Henry VIII to its worldwide presence today--became a venerable work whose cadences express the heart of religious life for many.
The book's chief maker, Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, created it as the authoritative manual of Christian worship throughout England. But as Jacobs recounts, the book has had a variable and dramatic career in the complicated history of English church politics, and has been the focus of celebrations, protests, and even jail terms. As time passed, new forms of the book were made to suit the many English-speaking nations: first in Scotland, then in the new United States, and eventually wherever the British Empire extended its arm. Over time, Cranmer's book was adapted for different preferences and purposes. Jacobs vividly demonstrates how one book became many--and how it has shaped the devotional lives of men and women across the globe.
Alan Jacobs is a scholar of English literature, literary critic, and distinguished professor of the humanities at Baylor University. Previously, he held the Clyde S. Kilby Chair of English at Wheaton College until 2012. His academic career has been marked by a deep engagement with literature, theology, and intellectual history. Jacobs has written extensively on reading, thinking, and culture, contributing to publications such as The Atlantic, First Things, and The New Atlantis. His books explore diverse topics, from the intellectual legacy of Christian humanism (The Year of Our Lord 1943) to the challenges of modern discourse (How to Think). He has also examined literary figures like C. S. Lewis (The Narnian) and W. H. Auden. His work often bridges literature and philosophy, with books such as A Theology of Reading: The Hermeneutics of Love reflecting on the ethical dimensions of interpretation. An evangelical Anglican, Jacobs continues to influence discussions on faith, literature, and the role of reading in contemporary life.
Marvelous read and a lovely little book. Jacobs weaves history, theology, and politics in this "life story" of the BCP. Confirmed one of my deepest worries: that I'm an Anglican at heart.
The history of the BCP is long, complex, and political. Jacobs waves the threads together engagingly and honestly. I especially enjoyed the use of sources like Samuel Johnson's personal writings, Mansfield Park, and W. H. Auden's correspondence, which explored how the prayer book was actually used and how Anglicans felt about it. I appreciated how Jacobs paid special attention to global iterations of the prayer book and liturgical services at the end. Anglicanism is changing rapidly as its weight shifts from Canterbury to the global south, and the BCP is along for the ride.
Once official religious words get firmly established, people get nervous about any changes to them. Understandably. What John Henry Newman called "the temper of innovation," change for change's sake, is disruptive to social harmony. And when Christianity is the official religion of a nation civil peace is therefore tied to it—and people are even more nervous about change. Understandably.
This is precisely what has happened in England over the centuries. A complex of factors—especially the advent of a firmly Protestant king, Edward VI, followed soon after by the long reign of Queen Elizabeth in the 16th century—managed to establish Thomas Cranmer's 1552 edition of the Book of Common Prayer as the national standard for liturgical language. A later political upheaval, the English Civil War, brought revisions to the prayer book in 1662. But there the text of the prayer book remained. It had managed to find a "via media" among the various sects within Anglicanism (the Anglo-Catholics, the latitudinarians, the evangelicals). Nobody was happy with the prayer book, but at least everybody was equally unhappy. The idea of altering it was just too touchy to be successful. The chance that someone else's party would gain an advantage was too great.
Until 1914, when suddenly there was a pressing need for regular British young men not just to hear the words of the prayer book but to understand them. Why? They were dying by the millions in the trenches of France. Somehow, high-fallutin' language sounded out of place in the muddy trenches of World War I. Church of England chaplains began to complain, because "changes in the English language…had gradually rendered much prayer-book language unfamiliar, along with the language of the King James Bible." (151)
Long-time English professor and evangelical Christian Alan Jacobs explains, however, that there was a problem people in every party in the CofE had with updating the Book of Common Prayer and the KJV: "As daily speech moved further and further from the norms of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, these two great texts became simultaneously harder to understand and more venerable: stateliness, formality, and peculiarity of diction and vocabulary combined to make the books seem holy and tampering with them a profanation." (151–152) (emphasis mine)
It takes a great commitment to truth to weed one's traditions, and it takes great prudence and wisdom to know how and when and what to change without crusading—and crushing Christ's sheep along the way. Or it takes national upheaval. That's the lesson I learned again, thanks to one of my favorite writers, Alan Jacobs.
This was a fascinating read. It's a wonderful blend of church history and theological reflection, with some implications for how to think about the church and worship today (even for those who, like me, are not Anglican).
I was born, baptized, and confirmed in the Episcopal Church. The Book of Common Prayer (1928) was our guide to worship for my family until I jumped ship in high school. The current BCP appeared after I had left, but even prior to that the priest at our church was using a variety of experimental and more modern Eucharistic services.
Alan Jacobs a professor of the humanities at Wheaton College takes us on a gentle (and at times not so gentle) journey through the story of this masterpiece of religious literature. Born out of the English Reformation and designed by its original author Thomas Cranmer to provide for the common worship of all English Christians, it has been revised and scattered across the world through time. We learn the history and the story and as a result gain a better appreciation for this book that has given voice to the worship of millions. It may no longer be the one common worship, but it continues to resonate in ways that enhance our worship (even if we're not Anglican).
Fun(ny) fact(s): Summer reading challenge Bingo with the Dayspring youth #17: a book that I started but never finished! I did not finish before moving to the UK, but when I returned, it was one of the first I picked up again (although I did restart from the beginning).
Favorite quote/image: "In the world of the prayer book, then, the individual Christian stands completely naked before God in a paradoxical setting of public intimacy." (pg. 38)
Honorable mention: "Johnson, however, did not need his heart warmed, but rather his racing mind calmed. For him, and for many who have felt themselves at the mercy of chaotic forces from within or without, the style of the prayer book has healing powers. It provides equitable balance when we ourselves have none." (pg. 106)
Why: Dr. Jacobs is one of my favorite professors from college, and I have wanted to read more of his work for a while now. Beginning with the intertwined religious and political origins of the Book of Common Prayer, Jacobs traces the prayer book through history, examining its incredible influence not just in England, but around the world. I have definitely gained new appreciation not only for the Anglican tradition and the Book of Common Prayer, but also the complexities of the debates around creating liturgies.
A pretty good overview of book of common prayer with church history bits thrown in. The audio book version is terrible, but then again, Jacobs is hard to read out loud. 🤷🏼♀️
Anything I've ever read by Alan Jacobs has been enjoyable and reading his biography of the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) was no exception. Having been in the Anglican Church of Canada in the past, our family is familiar with both the Prayer Book services and those of the Alternative Book of Services. It was therefore of personal interest to learn more about how the "high" and "low" services came to be. But even for those with no previous personal connection, this entry in Princeton University Press's Lives of Great Religious Books series richly repays the read.
In his usual clear, informed, wise and witty prose, Jacobs walks the reader through the development and evolution of the BCP as well as the history of the Church of England which first birthed it and then in turn was formed by it. The reader will meet all of the major actors and many of the colourful bit-players in this centuries-long drama. There is much solid scholarship that stands behind this work: Jacobs knows the original sources as well as being well versed with the standard and up to date secondary sources. An aspect of the book that I found particularly enjoyable was Jacobs' inclusion of bits of personal conversations he had while researching the book, conversations with people such as the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. I confess I found my mind wandering...wondering if Jacobs and Williams perhaps talked a bit about C.S. Lewis on the side, seeing as they have both written fine books about Lewis and Narnia.
If you ever find yourself in the market for a home, it is an eye opening experience to be taken through the same home first by a realtor and then by the people that have lived in the home for the last 40 years. The realtor can point to a small gouge in the hardwood or a hole in the wall (or perhaps hang a picture in front of it so you don't see it) but the longtime owner might half apologetically, half affectionately point to that same blemish and tell you a story about how it first happened and why its never been repaired. Jacobs certainly knows the BCP, but he is no mere professional guide. He also knows the ins-and-outs of the BCP from his own experience in the Anglican Church, both through corporate worship and personal devotion. He spends only a little time telling us of his personal experience with it in scattered places, but the tone of the whole book is made richer by his relationship with this book. For sympathetic and open readers, this tone projects (only lightly) a sense that Jacobs is introducing us to one of his closest friends, one who is somewhat quirky but whom Jacobs knows will enrich our lives if we will only make the effort to spend time with them. This doesn't mean Jacobs closes a blind eye to the oddities of his friend. He introduces us to these as well. However, this personal factor, as well as Jacobs' steadily enjoyable and eminently readable style, ensures that this is not a dry or difficult read - quite the contrary - so don't be sacred away by the fact that it is published by a university press. Also, this beautifully crafted book is a relatively quick read and has wide margins for those who like to annotate their books. For those who normally skip reading the end notes, let me encourage you not to in this case. Here they are more than mere reference citations, frequently giving little trips down side alleys of history or narrative, maintaining the same care for readability as the main text.
I highly recommend this book to anyone even remotely interested in the history of the CoE, or in English politics from Henry VIII on, in liturgics or the reformation and subsequent broader church history, or even those who may be interested in the development of the English language in the modern era. Unlike the limited appeal of most historical works, I would also recommend this book to people who have no previous interest in any of the aforementioned areas. Jacobs is just that good at telling a story. You may have no current interest in the BCP or the CoE but you will find this an interesting story anyway largely because you will find Jacobs a great story-teller.
This is a fascinating history of the BCP. Initially, Jacobs presents the political, theological and communal reasons for the birth of the Book of Common Prayer. Once this foundation is laid, he carries you through the inevitably fraught history that followed all the way to modern times. Presenting the the four-fold tensions of king, church, parliament and lay-person, you are given the whole conflict that has both kept the book alive as well as caused much contention in the Church of England - even bleeding over into other countries. Is the prayer book just another tool of colonial England? The secret, subversive arm of the Pope in the C of E? The layman’s devotional and guide through weekly worship? The retainer of the clergy meant to keep them from straying too far in either the Roman or the congregational directions? Clearly this book has lived many lives and continues to be reincarnated as its influence in Asia and Africa comes to maturity. What was once meant to be a book that defined common worship for England has become a cornerstone of liturgical worship the world over. Or has it? If you change it, is it still the BCP? Can it still be “common” if everyone revises it? Alan Jacobs doesn’t attempt to answer these questions, but he spreads them across the table in plain sight for you to look at and ponder in all their complexity. His writing is on the cerebral side, for which I docked him a star. But on the whole, he pairs a lot of names and dates with interesting details and avoids the rabbit-trails that these histories are prone to. I learned a lot and it didn’t bore me into forgetfulness.
This is a fantastic survey of the life of a book. I’m biased as the subject is the book outside of the Bible that has had the greatest impact on me. Hopefully this book will cause more people to delve into the Book of Common Prayer itself.
Well-written, enjoyable history of the Book of Common Prayer. Never would have imagined how much turmoil and strife such a book, one meant to help people pray and read the Bible, could have caused. I also learned a ton about the history of the Anglican + Episcopalian churches (which to be quite frank, I didn’t know much about).
I do wish that at points he could have gotten even more specific about some of Cranmer’s sources in writing the liturgies. That said, thoroughly enjoyed and loved the ending:
“...a prayer book wants its teaching to be enacted, not just absorbed. It cannot live unless we say its words in our voices.”
O Lord, open thou our lips, and our mouth shall show forth thy praise.
Fascinating history of a book that's seen more controversy and conflict than I'd ever have suspected from what has always seemed to be something of a comfortable feature of church life in the English-speaking world.
My only frustration was not with the book itself but with the audiobook. The reader used several weird pronunciations, especially of some fairly common biblical names/terms, which I found distracting—and detracting from the book's ethos. Alan Jacobs knows of what he speaks. The reader? Apparently not so much. Also, I think it may not be the best book for audio format anyway, simply because it contained so. many. names. Not being terribly familiar with the key players in the development of Anglican theology and liturgy, I had a terrible time keeping track of who was who in this fast-paced history, and I wished many times that I could flip back to where I'd seen the name before and refresh my memory. I might just have to track down a print copy and have another go at the book—and at a slower, more careful pace.
I am not sure why it took me 3 years to get Into this little volume! It is a wonderful short history of how BCP came to be and has been changed. The political and spiritual compromises and retaliation are amazing, and perhaps a lesson for current politicians. Jacobs has some flashes of humor which lighten the dense chapters. Who would guess that Boots, the chemists, had printed their own BCP, or that there is a ‘Star Wars ‘ prayer or LEGO liturgy?
In this short work he traces the life of the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) from its creation by Thomas Cranmer to the present day. The narrative makes clear the BCP liturgy has always been contested. The BCP has been a push-pull between those who would retain more Roman Catholic character in the liturgy and those who would adopt a more evangelical practice.
The BCP remains relevant today for Anglicans worldwide. However, the proliferation of liturgical “options” with newer prayer books and the modern move away from in-person Daily Office worship means the BCP will have less unitive power.
The best practice for Anglicans is probably to 1) follow the BCP consistently and 2) follow what your church/parish is practicing. The days of the BCP uniting ALL Anglicans everywhere are long gone.
American academic Alan Jacobs is a Distinguished Professor in the honours program of Baylor University, a Baptist institution in Waco. Texas. He was previously the Clyde Kilby Professor of English at Wheaton College, where he almost became an institution in his own right, spending thirty years in the post. He has been compared to CS Lewis: a fair comparison, given his interests in classical literature and religion. He has, in fact, written on Lewis, with particular reference to his children’s books, in his 2006 opus, The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C.S. Lewis. Nonetheless, Jacobs brings a contemporary perspective to his work, as is apparent from the book under consideration here, The Book of Common Prayer - a Biography. It is his thirteenth published book and it forms part of Princeton’s series Lives of Great Religious Books. There are already nine books in the series, with the promise of another dozen or so to come, covering the principal religions of the world and including works as disparate as The Book of Mormon and The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
The subject matter has been discussed by several other works, notably Sussex University’s Professor Brian Cummings’s comparative study The Book of Common Prayer: The Texts of 1549, 1559, and 1662 (OUP, 2010). One might suspect that the present work is in some measure Princeton’s response to the Oxford opus: the two works, however, similar though they superficially appear, serve different purposes, Cummings’s book being largely a study of the earliest versions of the texts while Jacobs takes a more straightforwardly historical approach, covering more ground in less detail. He traces the BCP’s origins from its beginnings in Tudor England to its transportation to the colonies and its recent history, with particular reference to its adaptation and development in the USA.
Although this is a scholarly work that will be of interest to church historians and students of Theology and Religious Studies, it will also be appreciated by laymen of similar interests. As a lapsed Anglican with a deep interest in Shakespeare and his life and times, I found it a joy to revisit Archbishop Cranmer’s beautiful prose. What was it about this era, that it could come up with the wondrous works of the Bard of Avon, the metaphysical poetry of John Donne and his contemporaries, the King James Bible – and the BCP? Or to give it its full title in 1662, The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments and other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church according to the use of the Church of England together with the Psalter or Psalms of David pointed as they are to be sung or said in churches and the form and manner of making, ordaining, and consecrating of bishops, priests, and deacons.
Consciously or unconsciously, Cranmer utilised techniques that creative writing students of today struggle to do half as well – repetition, balanced antithesis, metaphor – all these and more Cranmer called into service, setting a high bar for later writers of devotional texts. It matters not what Christian denomination one follows: the solemnisation of marriage invariably begins with ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together…’ or something similar that closely echoes Cranmer’s words. Modernised versions of Cranmer’s text, or modern efforts to rewrite the Latin of the Mass into English, such as those that followed the Second Vatican Council, fail miserably when compared to the beauty of Cranmer’s work. Alan Jacobs makes us very aware of our debt to Cranmer.
The Book of Common Prayer – a Biography is well set out, easy to follow, well-referenced and indexed and pleasing to look at. The only thing I did not like about this book was its ’handle’. It’s a good size and looks attractive, but the dust jacket feels like some nasty synthetic fabric, even though it is definitely paper! However, dust jackets are easily removed or covered by some other material, and it certainly wasn’t enough to make me set the book aside.
My relationship with the Anglican church can only be described as that of the briefest of flings during my early twenties. Despite its brevity, the relationship left me with a lasting affection for Rowan Williams, the liturgy, and the sit-com Rev.. What on earth I am doing with a 1559 and a 1662 BCP on my shelves God only knows. Mediating the experience of worship through standardized orders and language, liturgy, was at the time a completely foreign experience for me, but one which served as a balm for the overly cynical patterns of thought within the head of a young person whose faith was slowly disenchanting away. No matter the considerable effort I gave, I couldn’t lower my critical lens during the extemporaneous prayers given during other services. But I could during the service of my local Episcopal.
I picked up Alan Jacobs’ biography of the BCP primarily because I endeavor to read everything he writes (a significant PUP sale was the catalyst), but also to learn about the origins of the language in which I found comfort and delight. This slim book did not disappoint.
The BCP was always a political creation serving political ends. Reading about the necessary figures of that story from the context of a book’s origin was a novel experience for me. Jacobs weaves the going ons of this little book into the historical landscape from Henry VIII to Elizabeth I to Cromwell to the Victorian age to WWI to present day. The enduring public friction with the BCP for much of this time concerns the question of how closely Anglican services should hew to the Catholic ones from which it emerged. Too much popery or not enough popery was a determination with severe consequences for those on the wrong side of the scale. But throughout it all, the BCP bumps along, a faithful presence through history; at one point an expression of an uneasy truce, another banished entirely, and yet another, revered.
A few centuries of british history in 200 fascinating pages through the life of the Book of Common Prayer. If the phrase "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today" sounds familiar, you have the Book of Common Prayer to thank. It's the Church of England's liturgical map of life--from birth to death and beyond, and for every year in between. Jacobs highlights the writers and printers, the rulers and priests, while exploring some of the most contested aspects of a book which has been at the center of debate between Protestant-minded evangelical Anglicans on one hand, and Rome-inspired Anglo-Catholics on the other. How did the book fare during England's multiple revolutions, or during the Great War, or during the radical 1970s, or today? That's the story this biography tells. Another successful volume in Princeton's "Lives of Great Religious Books" series.
This was Marvelous! Absolutely fascinating. As a long-time Episcopalian I didn't expect to learn nearly as much as I did. Turns out that many things which I thought were "always" part of the service and liturgy are actually 19th and 20th century changes to a much more pared-down, Reformation service. Jacobs is a wonderful writer, and the book never (for me, at least) bogs down into dry detail. As well as the people you would expect to find here (King Henry VIII, Thomas Cranmer, Oliver Cromwell, etc.) people such as the Duke of Buckingham, Patrick O'Brian (of the Aubrey-Maturin sea novels), and T.S. Eliot make brief appearances. I'd never ever Heard of the Church of South India before, but reading about their contributions (major) to the updating of the prayer book was fascinating. I look forward to reading other books in this series.
A quick, interesting read on one of the most influential books in the English language and one I love. Jacobs is a great writer and his ability to summarize complex issues was very much on display. I read this book for fun (NERD ALERT!) and indeed had a lot of it.
An excellent little history of this important, enduring liturgy. Particularly recommended for new Episcopalians (or Anglicans) like myself. Well written and interesting.
I read this in two sittings. It was hard to put down. Jacobs has done a brilliant job creating the biography of one of the most influential books in the history of our language and even our country, as well as the British Empire worldwide.
As a new “baby Anglican” I wanted to read something that would explain the origins of the liturgy I have come to love so much. It was first the liturgy of Evensong (and years later holy communion and Morning Prayer) that made me notice there’s something incredible going on in the Anglican tradition. Visits to the great cathedrals of Britain as a university student allowed me to witness the history and majesty of a thousand years of Christian tradition in one place; attending Evensong services allowed me to experience the tradition for myself and see that it is very much alive, very much active, and very much spiritually relevant today—these old churches and cathedrals were more than musty relics, they are living congregations where Christ is worshipped and where the spirit dwells.
Over the years following those first experiences I’d learn more and more of the history of the Anglican faith, never supposing I’d eventually find myself worshipping among them as I have for the past year. Learning about the American Book of Common Prayer and its predecessors as well as the variants that exist across the former British Empire become a subject a great fascination for me.
It is the BCP that unites the Anglican communion, despite not all Anglicans using a common Book of Common Prayer. Alan Jacobs explains how this happened, and the compromises and strong feelings of various persons and parties along the way. Of course Thomas Cranmer’s role is given plenty of attention, including the years he spent prior to the separation from Rome trying to compile an English liturgy from the most ancient sources he had at hand in his immense library. Learning that we have since unearthed even more ancient sources from which to draw upon in modernity leaves me grateful for Cranmer’s efforts whilst simultaneously appreciating the forward movement the church has made in trying to recover ancient traditions of our brethren and sisters.
The biggest surprise for me was the outsized contribution of the Church of South India in the modern Anglican liturgy. It seems that their unique situation allowed for development of a liturgy that was able to draw on all the best possibilities, without needing to please politicians and various parties and sects as was so important for the creators of the BCP in England who had to navigate through some pretty serious challenges caused by entanglement of church and state. This same lack of “establishment” in the United States had already allowed the American church to develop liturgy apart from legal mandates that encumbered English churchmen.
Alan Jacobs clearly loves the BCP (though at the end he states his daily practice involves use of CofE’s Common Worship: Daily Prayer) and its history, as do I. I won’t put words into his mouth (or book), but I can see, through the narrative Jacobs tells, the spirit working among people who were earnest and sincere in wanting to develop a wholesome and scriptural based pattern of worship for Christian folk, even if sometimes constrained by kings and parliaments. Humans at their best do their best with what they’ve got under the circumstances in which they find themselves. Sometimes those circumstances are kings who feel they rule tyrannically with God’s approval. Sometimes those circumstances are the equally certain but equally ungodly parliamentarians who are just as willing to utilize religion and try to bend it to their own will.
The history of the BCP stands in as a good mini history of the reformed, protestant church (lower case for all these, recognizing these too are loaded terms) in England and its spread with empire over the subsequent centuries. It’s no wonder I couldn’t put it down, with my interests in British and ecclesiastical history being as they are. That the arc of Anglican thought has bent more toward Rome may seem ironic to some, but it makes perfect sense to me in the overall view.
"The Book of Common Prayer: A Biography" is an informative and entertaining look at this venerable and uncommon book. I learned much. I would have guessed that "The Book of Common Prayer" was written by committee, as was the King James Version of the Bible. In fact it was the work of one man: Thomas Cranmer (later executed; be careful what you write). I was surprised to learn that it was written in a "back to the Bible" spirit. It shouldn't have been surprising, since the pages of the prayer book are packed with Scripture. Those of us who grew up in liturgical churches may have moaned about how boring it was to sing or say the same things every week, but those phrases now are locked in our heads. (In the church I grew up in, during Lent, one of those phrases was "Christ hath humbled himself and become obedient unto death, e'en the death of the cross" -- right out of Philippians. The calendar turns to Lent, and the phrase automatically pops into my head.) Jacobs traces the book's history from its origin in the 16th century right through the 20th. The latter years were less interesting to me than the former. But any lagging interest was overcome by the quotation of this letter in 1969 by W.H. Auden, protesting the use of an updated version of the prayer book at his parish in Greenwich Village, written to his rector:
"Dear Father Allen: Have you gone stark raving mad? "Our Church has had the singular good-fortune of having its Prayer-Book composed and its Bible translated at exactly the right time, ie, late enough for the language to be intelligible to any english-speaking person in this century (any child of six can be taught what 'the quick and the dead' means) and early enough, ie, when people still had an instictive feeling for the formal and ceremonious which is instinctive in liturgical language. "This feeling has been, alas, as we all know, almost totally lost. (To identify the ceremonious with 'the undemocratic' is sheer contemporary cant.) The poor Roman Catholics, obliged to start from scratch, have produced an English Mass which is a cacophonous monstrosity. ... But why should we imitate them? "I implore you by the bowels of Christ to stick to Cranmer and King James. Preaching, of course, is another matter: there the language must be contemporary. But one of the great functions of the liturgy is to keep us in touch with the past and the dead."
And I will count as good the day when I manage to use the phrase "cacophonous monstrosity" in a sentence.