Why don't Anglicans go to church on Sundays?

Many sages, including the Anglican Archdruid Eileen and the Catholic Fr Longenecker, have wondered why Anglicans don't like to go to church on Sundays. After all, wouldn't you expect Janet and John Anglican to leap out of bed on a Sunday morning, with a dialogue something like the following?

Come on... no need for everyone to sit at the back!

"Hurrah! It's the 21st Sunday after Trinity today! Let's rush down to St Tharg's for Morning Prayer!"

"Hey, we've got a simply great Collect today. We're going to beseech God to grant us pardon and peace; that we may be cleansed from all our sins, and serve Him with a quiet mind!"

"Splendid! I'm fed up with serving Him with a noisy mind! What's the Epistle?"

"A good solid chunk of Ephesians, dear. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth..."

"Yes, I'm just putting on my trousers. Anything interesting in the Gospel?"

"Yes, Jesus meets a certain nobleman, whose son is sick at Capernaum."

"Does He heal the son?"

"Oh... you've heard that one before!"

"Nothing but repeats... let's not bother."

Jesus heals the hypochondriac by giving him two aspirins.

As it happens I do occasionally find myself in an Anglican service. The last time, it was indeed a Matins (which seems to have the advantage that there is no Kiss of Peace, even if there's not much spiritual nourishment either). The priest started chatting about something else - I think it was the fact that he had a sore throat - and then hastily turned to the "liturgy" and said "I suppose we'd better say this bit" before getting down to the script. Yes he did.

To be fair, he preached a rather good sermon - far better than many Catholic sermons I've heard, and probably just as orthodox. I can't remember what it was about, but that's fine. You're not supposed to remember. If you do, how can the priest use the same sermon next year?

The classic way to make sermons more interesting.

The hymns... well, they were be produced by the I'm Sorry, I haven't a Clue team. In other words, we had unfamiliar words sung to the tunes of familiar hymns. I think the problem is that old (traditional) hymns are no longer considered acceptable - especially not ones about God smiting sinners - and so we have to have anodyne rubbish about how we welcome God's Light in when we're brushing our teeth.

This was a small village church, with a congregation of about 15. Afterwards, we went out and threw bricks through the windows of everyone who hadn't turned up. No, actually I made that bit up. However, it might have been better if the priest was in the habit of knocking on doors, saying "We haven't seen you in church lately, Mr Mohammed; have you been unwell?" Who knows what might have happened?

The St Tharg's Press Gang drags in a reluctant worshipper.

A guide to the Novus Ordo 2

Continued from Part 1.

The story so far: although more used to the Extraordinary Form of the Mass, our students are learning about the Ordinary Form. As today's lesson starts we are about to embark on the act of penitence. So far the church is not very full, because those who aren't sinners haven't yet bothered to show up.

At this stage, late-comers are probably outside, liturgically parking the car.

For those who got there on time, the chances are that you will say a prayer starting: I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned.

Note that in the earlier English translation of the Missal (undertaken by a distinguished team of scholars including Basil Loftus and a man who owned a Latin dictionary with only a few pages missing), the greatly wasn't present; that's because people didn't sin so much in those days. The new translation also adds through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault, and you are supposed to beat your breast, perhaps three times.

Mea maxima culpa! How to beat your breast.

Actually, it seems that most people don't bother to do the breast-beating thing. If you are holding a baby, then it's probably a dangerous thing to attempt, but your sins may well be forgiven, all the same.

If you're lucky you will also get a sung version of this: Lord have mercy. Kyrie Eleison. If you're less lucky it will be accompanied by a man on an electric organ, a spotty teenager with a guitar, and an old man playing some sort of recorder. This is to encourage you to cry out for mercy.

Lord have mercy!

Well, that's over, the remaining stragglers have now turned up, usually squashing into the most crowded pews, and we are ready for the Gloria: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. In the earlier translation Lofty's pals got this wrong - possibly because some of them were not people of good will - and it came out as ...and peace to His people on earth.

"On earth" was also deemed to include astronauts.

The Gloria, as re-translated by Arthur Roche and co, is now very similar to its Latin equivalent; however, the congregation are nowadays encouraged to use some of the time in consulting their mobile phones, texting friends, etc. This is so that they don't do it during the Liturgy of the Word.

Before that, we may be invited to participate in a moment of silent prayer. Do it quickly, since after about 0.0001 seconds the priest will rush into the Collect. We'll discuss the Bible readings next time.

At the next stage the lector does not need to be a priest.