Living and Growing: Rest and Quietness
Published 10:30 am Sunday, May 3, 2026
The Book of Common Prayer which contains the liturgy of the Episcopal and Anglican Churches was put together by Thomas Cranmer, a bishop appointed by Henry VIII, to unite religious factions in England. Therefore, it was written to be non-dogmatic, to allow for different interpretations. It is why we have such freedom of thought in the Episcopal Church.
“Cranmer wanted a prayer book in English, one that could be understood by ordinary people, even by those who could not read.” So writes James Wood in the New Yorker’s celebratory article on the 350th anniversary of the Book of Common Prayer. “God Talk,” The New Yorker, Oct. 12, 2012, starts with reverie and enchantment that does not let up through the whole article. I feel it myself when we read from the Book of Common Prayer in our worship services.
Suppose you find yourself, in the late afternoon, in one of the English cathedral towns – Durham, say, or York, or Salisbury, or Wells, or Norwich – or in one of the great university cities, like Oxford or Cambridge. The shadows are thickening, and you are mysteriously drawn to the enormous, ancient stone structure at the center of the city. You walk inside, and find that a service is just beginning. Through the stained glass, the violet light outside is turning to black. Inside, candles are lit; the flickering flames dance and rest, dance and rest. A precentor chants, “Oh, Lord, open thou our lips.” A choir breaks into song: “And our mouth shall shew forth thy praise.” The precentor continues, “Oh God, make speed to save us.” And the choir replies, musically, “Oh Lord, make haste to help us.” The visitor has stumbled upon a service, Evensong, whose roots stretch back at least until the 10th century, and whose liturgy has been in almost continuous use since 1549, the date of the first Book of Common Prayer.
I was privileged to lead Compline, the service after Evensong, meant to send us to sleep in peace and tranquility. It was a spiritual honor that I enjoyed for more than five years. Reading the words out loud every week in the presence of others who read their parts made me a stronger person in body and spirit. I will share one of the prayers.
Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. The New Yorker article points out that when these texts were put together, life was dangerous, especially at night. That explains the urgency of the prayers for protection in getting through the night and waking up in the morning. Those fears are timeless, so our prayer book speaks to us today as it did to those in the 16th century.
One prayer for protection in Compline leads me to think about our immigrants. The Bible tells us to care for the strangers in our land, not to imprison and deport them.
I am grateful that my Episcopal faith does not use fear as a tool. I have been involved in religions that do. It felt like running for my life when I left, and for many caught up in strictly dogmatic religions, they are literally running for their lives. Our Church liturgy does not include fear as a weapon designed to force compliance. We are instructed instead that our lives from morning though night are ideally suffused with “rest and quietness.” We pray for that ideal for us and others, including the strangers.
Oh God, from whom all holy desires, all good counsels, and all good works proceed: Give unto thy servants that peace which the world cannot give; that both our hearts may be set to obey thy commandments, and also that by thee we being defended from the fear of our enemies may pass our time in rest and quietness. Page Bridges is a member at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church.
