Bream Bay Anglicans

30/08/2026

Bishop Robinson’s observation points to an uncomfortable truth about the way religion can sometimes be used. The negative gives us something the loving God does not: a justification for our own prejudices. When we believe God is angry with those who are different from us, it becomes easier to turn our own fear, discomfort or dislike into something that feels righteous. We can condemn others while convincing ourselves that we are defending God.
This has been particularly damaging for LGBTQ people. It creates a strange kind of faith in which people can feel more comfortable defending a God who excludes than following a Jesus who consistently reached towards those whom society had rejected. Love cannot become conditional simply because someone is different from us. LGBTQ people do not need to become acceptable to God; they need to be recognized as already possessing the same inherent dignity and divine worth as everyone else.
Perhaps the real challenge is not accepting that God loves people we struggle to understand, but allowing that love to change us, to surrender the desire to judge, exclude and condemn, and instead learn to see the person before us as someone equally made in the image of God.

30/08/2026

Please keep Sally, James and me in your prayers this week as we attend Synod on your behalf. This is not my favourite part of Church life, but it is necessary. Join us next Sunday at St Paul’s in Ruakākā to hear our report back.

28/08/2026

Heavenly Father, we bring before you the people of Nepal and beyond - those still missing, families waiting for news, and those who watched their homes and villages disappear beneath the flood.

Be close to the grieving and the searching, to rescuers, and to travellers far from home who are now among the missing.

Give strength and safety to search and rescue teams, give wisdom to those coordinating the response across borders, and give courage to communities beginning the long work of rebuilding.

Where the ground has given way beneath your people, hold them fast. Where hope feels as fragile, be their firm foundation.

We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, who calmed the storm and walked upon the water. Amen. 🙏

Anglican Church in Nepal

26/08/2026

Let’s throw open the doors!

The breadth of Anglicanism provides a range of entry points for spiritually curious younger people, Esmé Partridge finds

19/08/2026

MASS OR HOLY COMMUNION: CAN AN ANGLICAN REALLY CALL IT “MASS”?

Suppose an Anglican parish announces: “SUNDAY MASS, 9:00 A.M.”

Would that sound strange to you? Would you immediately say, “Mass is Roman Catholic. Anglicans celebrate Holy Communion”?

But here is the question: Are Mass and Holy Communion actually two different services?

No. Mass, Holy Communion, the Eucharist and the Lord’s Supper are different historic names for the same central act of Christian worship. The Anglican Church itself has used different names at different periods of its history. So calling the Eucharist “Mass” does not suddenly make an Anglican Roman Catholic.

But where did the word Mass come from?

Jesus did not use the word Mass at the Last Supper. The New Testament gives us expressions such as the Lord’s Supper, the breaking of bread and communion. The word Eucharist comes from the Greek word for thanksgiving. The word Mass came later from the Latin-speaking Western Church.

At the conclusion of the ancient Western Eucharistic liturgy came the dismissal: "Ite, missa est."

In other words, Go. You are dismissed. You are sent forth.

Eventually, the Latin word missa, connected with that dismissal, became a name for the whole Eucharistic service. From missa we received the English word Mass.

And there is beautiful theology in that.

At Mass, we do not simply gather in church and remain there spiritually. We gather around the Word and the Table, receive grace, receive Christ, and then we are sent back into the world. We are sent into our homes, workplaces, schools, businesses and communities to shine the light of Christ.

That is the movement of the Eucharist: WE GATHER. WE RECEIVE. WE ARE SENT. The service ends, but our Christian mission continues.

So, is the word Mass foreign to Anglicanism?

Absolutely not.

Open the first Book of Common Prayer of 1549, and look at the title of the Communion service. It reads: “THE SUPPER OF THE LORDE AND THE HOLY COMMUNION, COMMONLY CALLED THE MASSE.”

Yes, you read that correctly. The first Anglican Prayer Book openly called Holy Communion “the Mass.”

This means an Anglican who uses the word Mass is not importing a modern Roman Catholic expression into Anglican worship. The word appears in the very first Book of Common Prayer.

What changed? When Archbishop Thomas Cranmer revised the Prayer Book in 1552, the title became: “The Order for the Administration of the Lord’s Supper, or Holy Communion.”

The word Mass disappeared from the title. As the English Reformation developed, Anglican reformers became concerned about certain doctrines and practices that had become associated with medieval Masses, particularly the idea condemned in Article ###I of the Thirty-Nine Articles concerning “the sacrifices of Masses.”

But notice carefully what the Article rejects. It does not say: “The word Mass is sinful.” It rejects a particular understanding of the Eucharistic sacrifice.

That distinction is important. Otherwise, we would have to explain why the 1549 Book of Common Prayer itself used the word Mass.

So what should Anglicans call the service today? Any of these can be perfectly legitimate:

THE LORD’S SUPPER reminds us of the Upper Room and Christ’s command, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

HOLY COMMUNION reminds us that we participate in Christ and are united with His Body, the Church.

EUCHARIST means thanksgiving and reminds us that thanksgiving lies at the heart of Christian worship.

MASS connects us with the historic language of Western Christianity and reminds us that after gathering around Christ, we are sent forth to serve Him in the world.

They are not four different sacraments. They are four historic ways of speaking about the same Eucharistic celebration, each highlighting something important.

And this is why saying “Mass” does not make an Anglican Roman Catholic, just as saying “Eucharist” does not make an Anglican Eastern Orthodox, and saying “Lord’s Supper” does not make an Anglican Presbyterian or protestant.

Our Christian vocabulary is much older than many of our denominational arguments. Perhaps, then, the real question is not simply: “Do you call it Mass or Holy Communion?”

The deeper question is: After receiving Holy Communion, have you actually allowed yourself to be sent?

We receive Christ and are sent to represent Christ. We hear the Gospel and are sent to live the Gospel. We receive mercy and are sent to show mercy. We receive peace and are sent to become peacemakers.

The Church gathers, the Church receives, and the Church goes.

So yes, an Anglican can call it MASS. He can also call it HOLY COMMUNION, THE EUCHARIST or THE LORD’S SUPPER.

And Anglican history itself gives us perhaps the simplest answer: “The Supper of the Lord and the Holy Communion, commonly called the Mass.”

Now let me hear from you: What do you normally call it in your church: MASS, HOLY COMMUNION, EUCHARIST, or LORD’S SUPPER?

And if your Anglican parish announced: “SUNDAY MASS, 9:00 A.M", would you be comfortable with it?

Let’s keep learning Anglicanism.

18/08/2026

WHY DO WE SAY “KYRIE ELEISON” THREE TIMES?

Have you ever wondered why, in the liturgy, we say:

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy?

Where did this prayer come from? Why is it still said in Greek? Who started it? Why did Christians once say it nine times? And is all this repetition the kind of “vain repetition” Jesus warned against?

Kyrie eleison is Greek for “Lord, have mercy.” Christe eleison means “Christ, have mercy.” No pope, council or famous bishop can be identified as the person who invented this prayer. Its roots are much older. They are found in Scripture itself.

In the Gospels, people repeatedly approached Jesus with this cry. The blind cried, “Lord, have mercy on us.” The Canaanite woman cried, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David.” Before Kyrie eleison became a formal part of Christian liturgy, therefore, it was already the language of desperate people coming to Christ because they believed He was merciful.

But did its liturgical use come from the Eastern Church? Yes, as far as our surviving evidence shows. By the fourth century we find Kyrie eleison clearly used in the Greek-speaking East as a congregational response in litanies. The deacon would offer petitions for the Church, the world, the sick, travellers, those who suffered and others, and the people would repeatedly answer, “Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy.” The ancient Eastern pattern was not originally restricted to saying it three or nine times. It was the people's continuing response to the petitions being offered.

The practice eventually became established in Western Christianity too. By the time of Pope Gregory the Great around AD 600, the Kyrie was already part of Roman worship, although Gregory himself explained that the Romans used it somewhat differently from the Greeks. The West also developed the distinctive Christe eleison, “Christ, have mercy,” within the sequence.

And here is something fascinating. Even when Latin became the dominant language of Western worship, the Church did not translate these words into Latin. In the middle of a Latin Mass, Christians still sang: Kyrie eleison.

So this tiny Greek prayer remained like an ancient echo of the Greek-speaking Church inside Western worship.

But where did the number three come from? In Western Christianity, the Kyrie eventually developed into the familiar pattern:

Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.
Kyrie eleison.

Over time, Christians naturally recognised a Trinitarian resonance in this threefold structure. We should not, however, make it too mechanical by saying that the first “Lord” can refer only to the Father, “Christ” only to the Son and the final “Lord” only to the Holy Spirit. Jesus Himself is repeatedly called Lord in the New Testament. The deeper point is that the Church turns to the one God for mercy, and the threefold shape beautifully resonates with our faith in Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

But historically, the Western Church went even further. Each invocation came to be repeated three times:

Kyrie eleison, three times.
Christe eleison, three times.
Kyrie eleison, three times.

That produced the famous ninefold Kyrie, three times three. Christians later found rich Trinitarian symbolism in it, and this became the normal form of the Kyrie in the medieval Western Mass.

Now here is the interesting Anglican part.

Did Anglicanism originally reject the ninefold Kyrie? No.

The very first Book of Common Prayer of 1549 actually retained the old ninefold Kyrie in the Communion service. The congregation still prayed “Lord, have mercy,” “Christ, have mercy,” and “Lord, have mercy,” each three times.

So why did it disappear from the normal Anglican Communion service?

In 1552, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer substantially revised the Prayer Book. The standalone ninefold Kyrie was removed from that position and the Ten Commandments were introduced instead. But Cranmer did something very interesting. After each commandment, the congregation answered:

“Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.”

That pattern passed into the 1662 Book of Common Prayer and became deeply characteristic of classical Anglican worship.

Notice the irony.

Cranmer did not remove the ninefold Kyrie because repeating “Lord, have mercy” was supposedly unbiblical or vain repetition. In fact, after his revision, the congregation said “Lord, have mercy upon us” ten times, once after each Commandment!

What changed was not Anglican belief in repeated prayer. What changed was the liturgical setting. Cranmer connected the cry for mercy directly to hearing the Law of God. You hear God's commandment, recognise your failure and immediately pray:

“Lord, have mercy upon us.”

But you also add:

“and incline our hearts to keep this law.”

That is beautiful theology. We are not merely asking God to forgive what we have done wrong. We are asking Him to change our hearts so that we may live differently.

Mercy for our failure, and grace for our obedience.

So how did the shorter threefold Kyrie survive among Anglicans? It remained in other Prayer Book services, including Morning and Evening Prayer:

Lord, have mercy upon us.
Christ, have mercy upon us.
Lord, have mercy upon us.

Later Anglican liturgical revisions also restored the standalone Kyrie to Holy Communion, and modern Common Worship, for example, provides the familiar threefold form.

But is repeating it three times, nine times or even ten times contrary to Jesus' warning in Matthew 6:7?

No. Jesus condemned vain repetition, not repetition itself.

That distinction is important. In Gethsemane, Jesus prayed the same prayer again. Matthew tells us that He prayed “the third time, saying the same words.” The heavenly creatures cry “Holy, holy, holy.” Psalm 136 repeats “for his mercy endureth for ever” again and again. And when Bartimaeus was told to keep quiet, he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Was Bartimaeus guilty of empty repetition? Certainly not. He repeated himself because his need was real.

That is the difference between repetition and vain repetition. You can say the Lord's Prayer once while your mind and heart are somewhere else, and it can become empty words. But you can also cry Kyrie eleison repeatedly from the depths of your heart, and every repetition can be genuine prayer.

And what exactly are we asking when we say, “Lord, have mercy”? We are asking for much more than forgiveness. We are saying, “Lord, look upon me with compassion. Forgive me. Help me. Heal me. Restore me. Save me. Do for me what I cannot do for myself.”

That is why this tiny prayer has survived for so many centuries. The bishop needs mercy. The priest needs mercy. The deacon needs mercy. The congregation needs mercy. The Church needs mercy. The world needs mercy.

So when you next hear:

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy,

do not rush through it as though it were merely another response printed in the service book.

You are praying words rooted in the Gospel. You are joining a prayer heard in the ancient Eastern Church. You are using Greek words that survived even in the Latin-speaking West. And as an Anglican, you are inheriting a prayer that passed through the ninefold Kyrie of the medieval Church, the 1549 Prayer Book, Cranmer's 1552 reforms, the 1662 Prayer Book and into Anglican worship today.

Sometimes the deepest prayer does not need many words.

Sometimes all the human heart can say is:

KYRIE ELEISON.

LORD, HAVE MERCY.

Let’s keep learning Anglicanism.

14/08/2026

There is currently a lot of conversation about the so-called priest-penitent privilege, sparked mostly by legislative changes regarding mandated child abuse reporting in the US. This is an urgent issue, but it is a theological issue that stands apart from the legal issue. Let me state clearly that all abuse is loathsome, and I stand firmly on the side of mandated reporting. However.
There is a lot of confusion about confidentiality.
Not all interactions with clergy are confidential, especially if the denomination does not have historical sacramental confession. Any non-sacramental disclosures (or discoveries) of abuse (or significant illegal activity of any kind) may require disclosure to authorities. Clergy, including priests in Catholic traditions (Roman, Orthodox and Anglican) serve in any number of roles, such as teachers, councillors, etc. The relevant laws apply to the role. Even in parish roles routine confidentiality is never guaranteed (although a priest with a future will be discreet).

Sacramental confession is a different matter. This should never be undertake casually, but after due preparation by both priest and penitent. When the sacrament begins, the priest should don a stole and from that moment the confidentiality of the confession is absolute, regardless of content. No exceptions of any kind.
However, a priest is never obligated to offer absolution if the penitent is not prepared to make a full confession with the intention being fully repentant. Confessions of abuse must include the expectation that the truly penitent person will self-report to the relevant legal authority, and a willingness to undergo the consequences. This does not make God’s love contingent, but rather demonstrates true repentance on the part of the penitent. Without self-reporting any absolution offered is voided because there has not been true repentance. And why undertake confession if the intention is incomplete repentance?

Such an approach does not avoid collusion between priest and penitent, unfortunately, or priestly abuse, but that is a different matter.

13/08/2026

If you haven't yet found your way to Eldernet's substack (which includes a group of essays by older writers on issues related to ageing in Aotearoa New Zealand), here's a link: [email protected]. You'll find some challenging ideas there. (Disclaimer: I also write for them)

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