There is a most grievous misconception that reading in the course of liturgy is simply reading. This is akin to thinking that eating the consecrated bread and drinking the wine are simply having a bite to eat. Where are we when these events happen? How are we dressed? Can anyone decipher these clues?
Perhaps the word “reading” itself is dangerous, too ambivalent in light of the fact we are a people who are always reading something. But that which we are given to “read” in liturgy is not some secular “something”; it is the divine word, the text wherein God awaits ritual manifestation in the hearing and contemplation of the church. Calling the assigned text a lesson or a lection may help to differentiate from ordinary text, but, I do not observe that in itself acting to stem the tide of irreverence surrounding the celebration of holy writ.
The Word of God is not to be read; It is to be proclaimed. The lector is not one deputized to read publicly, but one on whom falls the task of being the Voice of the Most High. I cannot stress the following too strongly. The lector must sacrifice self in prayer and meditation upon the text, must offer up self to become possessed of the sacred writer and the Sacred Spirit. The lector is not appointed to read the words of the sacred writer; the lector is appointed to be a sacramental reincarnation of the writer filled with the Word of God for the sake of the church and the world. Sometimes the lector must be a poet, sometimes a story-teller, sometimes a prophet or a preacher, but always the lector must be the instrument of God and Holy Inspiration. Too often is the holiness of this task forgotten and made light of, but it ought to never be forgotten for it is a fearful thing to have to speak the words of the Holy One.
The Word of God is, further, not a book, not a catenation of words upon a series of pages. The Word of God is God’s Christ, a living person. In the communal hearing and in the communal meditation upon the words is the Living Word made manifest to the worshipful community. This is sound theology, sound spirituality. I am sorry there stand so few to challenge them that are want to make of a book an idol, to worship a stash of alphabetical ciphers, usually translated ciphers at that.
The community’s hearing is the first aspect of this sacred ritual, taking the proclaimed word into the heart and soul as community is the second. This meditation is a time and a space for devout reflection as a community. The communal aspect is essential to the sacred task (and that is exactly the meaning of the term liturgy). Christ is present to us as his church. Here, his church sits in worshipful silence to, as church, hear him, and to hear him not with ears, but with heart and soul.
Silence of any type or duration is not something our society is disposed to endure. Yet, it is only when we cease the endless chatter inside ourselves and outside ourselves that the voice that causes all creation to be can and may be heard. Too often congregations and their leaders forget this first rule of prayer. Too often concern for a timetable blots out even the most rudimentary demands of holiness, and a time of silence around the lections is not observed. The truth remains, however, and only in silence is the Word heard. Ritual and real silence are no less imperative than the silence of the heart and mind.
Communal reflection brings strong demands on the heart and mind. But, the community as community must allow the Word to enter its feelings and thoughts, its heart and soul. The community as community must allow itself to become pliable and open to the experience of the Word, must allow itself to become possessed of and by the power of the Word. Throughout history there have been communities that have been stirred up to shout out in praises and prophecies and strange tongues. Thus, the church has always sought to ease the burdens and the dangers of communal reflection by using the words of scripture itself to guide the reflection and meditation upon scripture.
These meditative devices are all songs. As the proclamation is the proper work of the lector, the meditation the proper work of the congregation, the meditative songs are the proper work of precentor (cantor) and choir. It is the work of precentor and choir to provide the rhythm and words that assist the community in the work of its mental prayer. The rhythm of the song or chant facilitate the meditative state, and the words focus the flow of the meditation. There are some, they most generously call themselves liturgists, who encourage and direct the congregation to sing a hymn between the lections. In some places, perhaps because there are no singers or because someone thinks every aspect of a ritual must be exercised even though there is no proper person so to do, the meditative songs are read aloud by the congregation. Both these practices are disastrous distortions based on what I can only charitably call an error, for they disallow meditation, deny the value of precentor and choir, and discount the power of rhythm and song; they take ritual and prayer and turn them into mind-numbing babble. Too often it is forgotten that the ancient rituals were developed that the liturgy might truly be a celebration of the mystery, of the wonder of life, and not a wearisome task of reading songs and suppressing the true depths, rhythms and joy of prayer.
The final ritual task of the celebration of the divine among us as Creative Word is the breaking open of the words by one skilled and studied in the task, in short, the preaching by the preacher. I have yielded to my idealistic side in using skilled and studied as descriptors. Nevertheless, it is usually given to one of the clergy to speak, within the context of the occasion and the sacred texts, knowingly to the church. There is latitude here, but it needs be kept in mind that we are still at worship in this task, we are still in a ritual work, we are still gathered before God. One who would set about to preach without first offering oneself up to deep prayer and fervent study would do better to find some other work, some other minister, some other’s work to read. Too often are congregations given to sit through virtual martyrdom by men and women who seem to be without wit, wisdom, or watch.
Alas, none of the above reflects the question you have placed before me. You asked for some definition of some terms. I, being who I am, felt the terms I shall now address required a context.
Lesson and Lection are merely older and Latin based terms for Reading.
Lectionary is a book containing the appointed scriptures for each day. There are a number of specialized lectionaries. The two most common are the Epistle Book or Epistolary, containing only the appointed epistle readings, the Gospel Book or Evangelary, containing only the appointed gospel readings. The ritual readers of these books are called Lector, Epistoler, and Gospeller.
The place wherefrom the scripture is proclaimed is variably called a reading desk, a lectern, an ambo. It is the custom in some places to carry the Gospel Book into the midst of the congregation and proclaim from among the people, a ritual denoting the appearance of God’s Word in our midst. In some places this gospel procession includes torch bearers who flank the Gospel Book. This reverential and festive use of light at the gospel is among the most ancient ritual actions of the church.
The meditative songs have a number of names. Gradual is the meditative song that follows the first lection. The name is derived from the Latin for step, and possibly refers to the practice of singing a psalm or part of a psalm while the lector ascended the steps to the lectern. Today, the term Gradual is often replaced with the term Responsorial Psalm. Tract is the song that follows the second lection. The origin of the name is uncertain. The Tract is usually taken from the Book of Psalms. When a second lection before the gospel was suppressed, the Tract fell into disuse. In some places on certain penitential days the Tract has survived. Modem liturgies do not make use of a Tract, but shift the focus to a Gospel Acclamation, the final meditative act. This Acclamation is traditionally “Alleluia” or “Praise Be To Thee” sung as joyful welcome of The Lord about to be made present in the proclamation of the gospel. As the final act of meditation, the Acclamation is properly made by the congregation. The Acclamation is sometimes augmented by verses from scripture or verses based on scripture, and these augmentations properly belong to precentor and choir.
In the medieval church, certain feast days acquired special hymns. These hymns, called Sequences, were traditionally sung after the second lection, and sometimes as part of the Gospel Acclamation. Many of these hymns are still found in The Book of Common Praise. Among the most popular are the Easter hymn Victimae Paschali (Christ The Lord Is Risen Today), and the Pentecost hymn Veni, Sancte Spiritus (Come, Thou Holy Spirit, Come). Many modern liturgies do not make use of these hymns, but again, when they are used as Sequences, they belong to the work of precentor and choir and are meant to provide rhythm and direction to communal meditation.
It may be a surprise to some, but preaching comes in a number of forms. I strive here to think kindly. The Sermon is a discourse on an extract from scripture, or on some topic regarding faith or morals consisting of an examination of the given topic and an exhortation to live in accord with the values and ideals discussed. A Homily is an examination and exhortation based on a selected passage of scripture, usually, but not definitively, one used in the service. A Postil is a Homily on one or more of the lections used in the service. A Prone is a short explanatory discourse on a topic of faith or morals.
There are some who incorrectly refer to a homily as an exegesis. Exegesis is the scientific examination of scripture, analyzing the way words are used, the effects of certain literary styles, the impact of social and historical conditions, etc., and out of that work, striving to explain the words and the meaning of the scriptures for our time and place. A good preacher ought to be a capable exegete, but good preaching demands more than exegesis.
Having expressed something less than felicity with the state of preaching I too often encounter, I will point out that in 1543, the Church of England was faced with a large number of unlearned clergy and attempted to assist them by publishing a volume of twelve sermons suitable for reading from the pulpit. In 1571, a second volume containing twenty-one sermons was published. These works, The Books of Homilies, constitute a unique repository of classical Anglican theology. They constitute also a unique aspect of our heritage no one seems inspired to revisit or re-invent.