It is the powerful who get to frame the liturgy, especially in an established Church like ours. Our liturgy of course has its roots in the Roman Catholic Church, but from the time of Constantine the Catholic Church too was very close to the centres of power and influenced by them. Put simply, there are two reasons why the ruling classes would want the Church to focus on the sins of worshippers and their need for forgiveness, rather than Christ’s subversive claims to free the oppressed and bless the poor. 

The first, and perhaps most obvious, is that they don’t want their hold on power threatened. It suits them that the common people should know their place and be without a sense of their own dignity. Much better to keep them preoccupied with their own sins and failings, their own need to be forgiven, than to remind them that in God’s Kingdom the last shall be first and the first shall be last. If, in addition, access to the grace of God is via a priest, rather than directly, that is a powerful tool for keeping people in their place.
The less obvious reason for an overemphasis on sin and forgiveness is a lack of imagination on the part of those who frame the liturgy. Those who are in positions of power in the Church – in Britain, traditionally, educated and affluent white men – have generally had little experience of oppression or powerlessness. It is easy to see, therefore, why their theology should emphasise personal responsibility. That is a healthy corrective for the powerful, who can maintain the illusion that they are always able to exercise choice. For many people the experience of being powerless and having limited choices is more real; but if all your associates are of the dominant class you may not realise that. Why would you frame your church services to address needs you aren’t aware of, or which make little impact on you and people you know?

Even the patterns for intercessions in Common Worship are more concerned with the powerful – rulers, royals, governors, bishops – than they are with the everyday concerns of the people in the pews. Your best chance of having your situation alluded to in most church services is to be sick or dead – experiences shared even by the ruling classes.
We badly need a change in our theology, so that it conforms more nearly with the mission of Jesus as reflected in the Gospels. When our theology is reformed, our liturgy will bring healing rather than death to the spirits of the abused. That will take a very long time and much hard work; in the meantime, we inflict further damage on those who have already suffered too much. What can we do?

Common Worship was conceived as a set of resources, and a framework within which to use liturgical material. Bishops seem to have rowed back somewhat on the freedom it offered; we need to reclaim it. Sometimes quite small changes can make a difference. My former colleague Stephen Callis once introduced the confession by saying, ‘’In a time of silence, let us thank God for all the things we have got right this week.’ How liberating that was! Yes, we do often get things right, and we should be thankful for that.

When I was vicar of a very troubled estate, I realised how badly people needed to begin worship on a positive note. I therefore wrote a set of opening responses which began:
The night is ended The week is over And God is still with us God loves us for ever.
There is an abundance of positive and affirming material we can draw on. There is enormous liturgical creativity among modern Celtic religious communities. The Iona Community and its Wee Worship Group are the most famous of these, but the Northumbria Community and the Community of Aidan and Hilda have also produced quantities of resources. Social justice, creation and nature, and the events of everyday life are common themes, so these liturgies are often helpful for survivors and other victims. The Iona Community, being earthed in a needy part of Glasgow, really excels at this.
Feminism has also been fruitful, liturgically speaking. Janet Morley and others write within an Anglican framework, so provide material which can easily be slotted into the Eucharist. A number of liturgy collections written by and for women are mindful of the experience of those who are powerless and suffering. Though they are written out of women’s experience, I have found they often resonate with men as well.

The world Church, too, can come to our aid. The USPG (now Us), Christian Aid, and the Mothers Union all publish prayers and liturgies which are gleaned from other countries and give us the benefit of their wisdom and spiritual insight.  It’s also worth getting prayer books from elsewhere in the Anglican Communion, where these are published in English. Usually these Churches don’t have the establishment links of the CofE and therefore approach worship and the Gospel from a different angle. I have found A New Zealand Prayer Book and the Scottish Episcopal Church’s Scottish Liturgy especially refreshing. It would be good if all English churches  occasionally used such liturgies; it reminds us that we are part of a worldwide Communion, and gives other perspectives on Christianity.
In parishes which produce service sheets, it’s quite easy to introduce material from the above and other sources. For the Eucharist, there is considerable freedom during the ante-communion, the intercessions, and closing responses, as long as the basic structure is followed and no heterodox doctrine is introduced. The Liturgy of the Sacrament is less flexible, but the additional material in Common Worship can be mined for the few gems and there are some points of flexibility. I wrote a Prayer of Joyful Access to provide a positive approach to communion; a member of the committee which put together the eucharistic prayers advised me that it’s ‘within the spirit of’ Common Worship and permissible to use:

Jesus, brother, you sat down at table  with women who sold their bodies,  men who sold their souls,  and those whose lives were traded by strangers.  You ate with them, and when you broke the bread  wine and laughter flowed As we feast with you now may your bread strengthen us, your wine warm us, And your love cheer us for the days to come. Amen. (published by the Iona Community in Praying for the Dawn)

But for me, it is this prayer from Jan Berry which perhaps best sums up the ‘good news’ for victims:

Come to this table where the living Christ offers us  bread broken for our journeying and wine poured out for our tears. Share together in this meal where loss finds comfort in promise and despair is transformed into hope. Whoever you are, whatever you bring, hear the risen Christ call your name; and accept God’s invitation to new life.    

This article is an excerpt from the chapter of the same title in Letters to a Broken Church.