BCP 1662: Whither the Epiclesis?

One curiosity about 1662 Book of Common Prayer is the missing epiclesis, which is commonplace in our prayer book here in the Church of the Province of South East Asia. What could be the reasons for its absence and eventual integration in most of our prayer books today?

The epiclesis (Greek: “invocation”) was introduced in the Anglican Eucharist by Thomas Cranmer when the first edition of Book of Common Prayer was released in 1549.

Hear us, O merciful Father, we beseech thee; and with thy Holy Spirit and word vouchsafe to bless and sanctify these thy gifts, and creatures of bread and wine, that they may be unto us the body and blood of thy most dearly beloved Son Jesus Christ.

The epiclesis is not explicitly found in the Roman Rite, which of course Cranmer would be familiar with, in the form of the Sarum Missal. Did Cranmer get it directly from Eastern liturgies? This is somewhat disputed, even if it should be obvious that the epiclesis has an ancient pedigree. While the words do sound similar to the epiclesis used in Eastern liturgies, there were a number of Western precedents that Cranmer would have known about. Furthermore, such phrases about the Holy Spirit are characteristic of Martin Bucer’s and Peter Martyr’s eucharistic theology.

Peter Martyr had been staying with Cranmer during the preparation of the final drafts of the prayer book. In his Oxford lectures on 1 Corinthians and the institution of the Eucharist, Peter wrote of the essential connection between the work of the Spirit, the Word, and the consecration of the elements:

He [the Lord] is able to make common bread and wine a most effectual sacrament … such a change in it, in which bread and wine are translated from the natural order, and profane degree in which they were, to a sacramental state and order, both by the work of the Holy Spirit and by the institution of the Lord.

The 1549 prayer book was seen an interim work. Reformation principles began to set in and further revisions were expected. Under further scrutiny by Reformers like Bucer, they expressed concern that the prayer could be taken as indicating a change in the elements. In his comments on the 1549 rite in his Censura, Bucer suggested a redraft of Cranmer’s petition:

Hear us, O merciful Father, bless us and sanctify us by thy Word and Holy Spirit, that with true faith we may receive in these mysteries the body and blood of thy Son to be the food and drink of eternal life.

Cranmer dropped the phrase “bless us and sanctify us by thy Word and Holy Spirit” altogether in the 1552 prayer book: This prayer book has come down the centuries in its 1662 iteration as the authorized Book of Common Prayer — without an epiclesis.

So, how did the epiclesis find its way into our provincial prayer book and so many others? It is found within what has sometimes been called the “Prayer of Consecration”:

grant that by the power of your Holy Spirit
these gifts of bread and wine may be to us his body and his blood.

This came about as it is found in the 1637 Book of Common Prayer for Scotland, a rite that also influenced the first American prayer book released in 1789. The epiclesis was also included in the Alternative Service Book, with liturgical scholarship emphasizing its historical and doctrinal importance (i.e., its ancient patristic roots). By now, a middle way was preferred to serve the range of churchmanship in the Communion.

How do we view the practise and meaning of this “Prayer of Consecration”? The elements are being set apart (blessed, dedicated) that it “may be to us his body and his blood.” What should it signify for those who want to be true to our English Reformation commitments?

Cranmer says in Article 28 on the Communion:

The Supper of the Lord is not only a sign of the love that Christians ought to have among themselves one to another, but rather it is a Sacrament of our Redemption by Christ’s death: insomuch that to such as rightly, worthily, and with faith, receive the same, the Bread which we break is a partaking of the Body of Christ; and likewise the Cup of Blessing is a partaking of the Blood of Christ.

This is self-explanatory. The article also said the Eucharist is to be received in a “spiritual and heavenly“ manner. This implies, rather directly, the operation of the Holy Spirit:

Sacraments ordained of Christ be not only badges or tokens of Christian men’s profession, but rather they be certain sure witnesses, and effectual signs of grace, and God’s good will towards us, by which he doth work invisibly in us, and doth not only quicken, but also strengthen and confirm our Faith in him.

Hence, through the Spirit, the elements work in us. How? As the prayer book’s liturgy made clear, to “be for us” the body and blood to us, via our (Spirit-formed) faith, in a “spiritual and heavenly” manner.

This is all quite consistent with the 1549 epiclesis. This way of construing the central pneumatic character of the Lord’s Supper and, more broadly, the whole apparatus of the church’s life was not foreign to the reformers, but actually foundational. We can remind ourselves that William Tyndale’s work was at the root of much popular and learned English Reformation attitudes. Tyndale was the great “pneumatic” thinker of the English Reformation, and looked to the Spirit as the “worker” of all divine Christian realities.

Obviously, there were concerns afoot about whether it may encourage some to look at the Eucharist in terms of “transubstantiation.” The removal of the epiclesis in later English versions of the BCP was driven by some of these concerns. However, the issue was not the theology of the 1549 epiclesis, but its possible misunderstanding. As time has gone on, it is possible to take up Cranmer’s and earlier English Reformation pneumatic thinking about the Eucharist with greater appreciation. The renewal of the work of the Holy Spirit within some parts of our church has provided a fresh lens through which to interpret the theological richness embedded in earlier liturgical formulations.

As we reflect on the evolution of Anglican liturgy, it becomes evident that while certain aspects may have been lost in transition, there is value in re-examining and recovering elements that resonate with our theological heritage.

In our pursuit of liturgical fidelity, we are called to engage with the past, not as stagnant tradition, but as a dynamic source of theological insight and spiritual renewal.

Additional note: I am by no means a trained liturgist and in the young diocese where I come from, we are also finding our way in our liturgical practices and formation. I will appreciate further input and insights on this area of our liturgy.