Evidence for the Origin of Daily Prayer

Jewish Hours of Prayer. In the Temple at Jerusalem sacrifices were normally offered only twice each day, in the morning and in the evening, with additional offerings being made on Sabbaths and festivals. In the case of ordinary Jews not connected with the temple cult, however, there is evidence of some variety in prayer times. While all Jews would have offered prayer at mealtimes, some also recited the Shƒma‘ (Deut. 6:4–9; 11:13–21; Num. 15:37–41) twice a day, and others apparently followed a custom of praying three times a day (cf. Dan. 6:10). By the first century the middle of these times, probably originally observed at noon, had become associated—at least by some—with the hour of the evening sacrifice in the temple, the ninth hour of the day, which is around 3 p.m. in our reckoning (Acts 3:1). These prayers would have been said both by individuals on their own and by groups gathering together at home or in the synagogue. In the Jewish community at Qumran, more time seems to have been devoted to prayer, with sections of the community taking turns to maintain a vigil of meditation on God’s law throughout each night.

The Jewish tradition of prayer centers around the temple, the synagogue, and the home. The following texts evidence the practice of prayer throughout the day and confirm the continued involvement of Jesus and the early Christians in the Jewish practice of daily prayer.

Jesus. “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed” (Mark 1:35). “After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone” (Matt. 14:23; see also Mark 6:46; John 6:15; Luke 6:12).

The Disciples. The third hour: “These men are not drunk, as you suppose. It is only nine in the morning!” (Acts 2:15). The sixth hour: “About noon the following day as they … were approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray” (Acts 10:9). The ninth hour: “Cornelius answered: ‘Four days ago I was in my house praying at this hour, at three in the afternoon’ ” (Acts 10:30, see also Acts 10:3; 3:1). Evening prayer: “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them” (Acts 16:25).

Early Christians. “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts” (Acts 2:46). “When he had led them out to the vicinity of Bethany, he lifted up his hands and blessed them. While he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God” (Luke 24:50–53).

Daily Prayer in the First Three Centuries. The early Christians continued the Jewish practice of praying at mealtimes and at set hours of the day. The Didachē, a primitive Christian manual of instruction, prescribes prayer three times a day; Clement of Alexandria and Origen in the third century refer to a similar custom in Egypt, as well as to prayer in the night. At the same period in North Africa, however, Tertullian and Cyprian describe a more extensive pattern of daily prayer. They believe that the only absolute apostolic injunction is to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17, NRSV), but they both recommend that, in order to fulfill this, Christians should pray no less than five times a day—in the morning, at the third, sixth, and ninth hours (about 9 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m.), and in the evening—and should also pray again in the middle of the night. Their evidence is largely supported by the ancient church order known as the Apostolic Tradition, although it is difficult to know how much of this part of the document really does go back to the third century.

Psalms were apparently not commonly used at these times of prayer; Tertullian says that the more assiduous included those psalms featuring the “Alleluia” response—thereby implying that the rest did not. Instead, they were generally sung at meals, and especially at the agapē, where various individuals sang either a hymn they had composed or one of the canonical psalms to the others, who responded to each verse with an ‘Alleluia’ refrain (see also 1 Cor. 14:26; Eph. 5:18–20; Col. 3:16). Bible reading would have been a part of the daily devotions of those few Christians wealthy enough to own copies of the Scriptures, but for the majority, this activity would have been restricted to catechetical classes and occasional services of the Word during the week. Below is an example from the early third century written by Hippolytus in The Apostolic Tradition:

Let every faithful man and woman, when they have risen from sleep in the morning before they touch any work at all, wash their hands and pray to God, and so go to their work. But if instruction in the word of God is given, each one should choose to go to that place, reckoning in his heart that it is God whom he hears in the instructor.

For he who prays in the church will be able to pass by the wickedness of the day. He who is pious should think it is a great evil if he does not go to the place where instruction is given, and especially if he can read, or if a teacher comes. Let none of you be late in the church, the place where teaching is given. Then it shall be given to the speaker to say what is useful to each one; you will hear things which you do not think of and profit from things which the Holy Spirit will give you through the instructor. In this way, your faith will be strengthened about the things you will have heard. You will also be told in that place what you ought to do at home. Therefore let each one be diligent in coming to the church, the place where the Holy Spirit flourishes. If there is a day when there is no instruction, let each one, when he is at home, take up a holy book and read in it sufficiently what seemest to him to bring profit.

And if you are at home, pray at the third hour and bless God. But if you are somewhere else at that moment, pray to God in your heart. For at that hour Christ was nailed to the tree. For this reason also in the Old (Testament), the Law prescribed that the shewbread should be offered continually as a type of the body and blood of Christ; and the slaughter of the lamb without reason is this type of the perfect lamb. For Christ is the shepherd, and also the bread which came down from heaven.

Pray likewise at the time of the sixth hour. For when Christ was nailed to the wood of the cross, the day was divided, and darkness fell. And so at that hour let them pray a powerful prayer, imitating the voice of him who prayed and made all creation dark for the unbelieving Jews.

And at the ninth hour let them pray also a great prayer and a great blessing, to know the way in which the soul of the righteous blesses God who does not lie, who remembered his saints and sent the word to give them light. For at that hour Christ was pierced in his side and poured out water and blood; giving light to the rest of the time of the day, he brought it to evening. Then, in beginning to sleep and making the beginning of another day, he fulfilled the type of the resurrection.

Pray before your body rests on the bed. Rise about midnight, wash your hands with water, and pray. If your wife is present also, pray both together; if she is not yet among the faithful, go apart into another room and pray, and go back to bed again. Do not be lazy about praying. He who is bound in the marriage-bond is not defiled.

Those who have washed have no need to wash again, for they are clean. By signing yourself with moist breath and catching your spittle in your hand, your body is sanctified down to your feet. For when (prayer) is offered with a believing heart as though from the font, the gift of the Spirit and the sprinkling of baptism sanctify him who believes. Therefore it is necessary to pray at this hour.

For the elders who gave us the tradition taught us that at that hour all creation is still for a moment, to praise the Lord; stars, trees, waters stop for an instant, and all the host of angels (which) ministers to him praises God with the souls of the righteous in this hour. That is why believers should take good care to pray at this hour.

Bearing witness to this, the Lord says thus, “Lo, about midnight a shout was made of men saying, Lo, the bridegroom comes; rise to meet him.” And he goes on saying, “Watch, therefore, for you know not at what hour he comes.”

And likewise, rise about cockcrow, and pray. For at that hour, as the cock crew, the children of Israel denied Christ, whom we know by faith, our eyes looking towards that day in the hope of eternal light at the resurrection of the dead.

And if you act so, all you faithful, and remember these things, and teach them in your turn, and encourage the catechumens, you will not be able to be tempted or to perish, since you have Christ always in memory.

Cathedral Prayer East and West

After the conversion of Constantine in the early fourth century, the daily public celebration of morning and evening prayer became a regular practice in major towns and cities. A few places, including Jerusalem, which had become a great pilgrimage center, had more frequent services each day, and it was hoped everywhere that individuals and families might still continue to pray at the other hours of the day that had been observed by Christians in the third century, but only the exceptionally pious appear to have done so.

Because the clergy and people would generally gather under the presidency of their bishop for these daily liturgies, they are usually referred to by scholars as “cathedral” offices. They consisted principally of praise and intercession. The praise was expressed in selected psalms and canticles—non-canonical compositions as well as biblical songs—usually unchanging from day to day, except for Sundays and festivals. Thus, for example, Psalms 148–150 became established as the universal morning song of praise, while the hymn “Hail, Gladdening Light” was a common evening canticle, generally accompanying ritual lighting of the lamp (Lucernarium).

Scripture reading was not a part of these daily offices, but was still generally restricted to catechetical classes and occasional services of the Word during the week, as it had been in the third century, and to vigil services, which seem to be a new development. We have descriptions of an early morning vigil service on Sundays, which seems to have originated in Jerusalem as a weekly commemoration of the Resurrection and included the gospel account of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and also of an all-night vigil on Fridays composed of psalms and Bible readings. The latter, however, may be a result of monastic influence.

An excellent description of these services is found in the writings of Egeria, who in a visit to Jerusalem, reported them thus:

Loving sisters, I am sure it will interest you to know about the daily services they have in the holy places, and I must tell you about them. All the doors of the Anastasis are opened before cock-crow each day, and the “monazontes and parthenae,” as they call them here, come in, and also some laymen and women, at least those who are willing to wake at such an early hour. From then until daybreak they join in singing the refrains to the hymns, psalms, and antiphons. There is a prayer between each of the hymns since there are two or three presbyters and deacons each day by rota, who are there with the monazontes and say the prayers between all the hymns and antiphons.

As soon as dawn comes, they start the morning hymns, and the bishop with his clergy comes and joins them. He goes straight into the cave, and inside the screen, he first says the Prayer for All (mentioning any names he wishes) and blesses the catechumens, and then another prayer and blesses the faithful. Then he comes outside the screen, and everyone comes up to kiss his hand. He blesses them one by one and goes out, and by the time the dismissal takes place, it is already day.

Again at mid-day everyone comes into the Anastasis and says psalms and antiphons until a message is sent to the bishop. Again he enters, and, without taking his seat, goes straight inside the screen in the Anastasis (which is to say into the cave where he went in the early morning), and again, after a prayer, he blesses the faithful and comes outside the screen, and again they come to kiss his hand.

At three o’clock they do once more what they did at mid-day, but at four o’clock they have Lychnion, as they call it, or in our language, Lucernare. All the people congregate once more in the Anastasis, and the lamps and candles are all lit, which makes it very bright. The fire is brought not from outside, but from the cave—inside the screen—where a lamp is always burning night and day. For some time they have the Lucernare psalms and antiphons; then they send for the bishop, who enters and sits in the chief seat. The presbyters also come and sit in their places, and the hymns and antiphons go on. Then, when they have finished singing everything which is appointed, the bishop rises and goes in front of the screen (i.e., the cave). One of the deacons makes the normal commemoration of individuals, and each time he mentions a name a large group of boys responds Kyrie eleison (in our language, “Lord, have mercy”). Their voices are very loud. As soon as the deacon has done his part, the bishop says a prayer and prays the Prayer for All. Up to this point, the faithful and the catechumens are praying together, but now the deacon calls every catechumen to stand where he is and bow his head, and the bishop says the blessing over the catechumens from his place. There is another prayer, after which the deacon calls for all the faithful to bow their heads, and the bishop says the blessing over the faithful from his place. Thus the dismissal takes place at the Anastasis, and they all come up one by one to kiss the bishop’s hand.

Then, singing hymns, they take the bishop from the Anastasis to the Cross, and everyone goes with him. On arrival, he says one prayer and blesses the catechumens, then another and blesses the faithful. Then again the bishop and all the people go behind the cross and do there what they did before the cross, and in both places, they come to kiss the bishop’s hand, as they did in many candles in front of the Anastasis, and also before and behind the cross. By the end of all this, it is dusk. So there are the services held every weekday at the cross and at the Anastasis.

Monastic Prayers East and West

There had always been some Christians whose spirituality was not satisfied with frequent times of prayer during the day but who wished to fulfill more literally the injunction to “pray without ceasing.” This attitude was inherited by the Egyptian desert fathers of the fourth century, whose aim was to maintain as near as possible a ceaseless vigil of meditation, punctuated only by the minimal interruption for food and sleep. As monastic communities proper emerged in Egypt, however, more formalized rules of prayer were established, which, while expecting the monk to persevere in praying throughout his waking hours, prescribed two particular occasions of prayer each day, on rising in the morning and before retiring to bed at night. John Cassian’s description captures the spirit of these daily devotions, even if he appears to have mingled together with the practices of Upper Egypt with the somewhat different customs of Lower Egypt. As can be seen, their basic purpose was not praise and intercession, but silent meditation on the Word of God heard in the Psalms and/or Scripture readings.

Monastic communities in other parts of the East and West followed rather different customs. They tended to preserve the times of prayer formerly observed by all Christians in the third century—morning, third, sixth, and ninth hours, evening, and during the night—and sometimes added further hours to these, often including a weekly all-night vigil. But, influenced by the Egyptian desert fathers, the content of all these services was generally meditation on psalms and Bible readings.

Below is an example of monastic prayer as seen in the writings of John Cassian:

One rose up in the midst to chant the Psalms to the Lord. And while they were all sitting (as is still the custom in Egypt), with their minds intently fixed on the words of the chanter, when he had sung eleven Psalms, separated by prayers introduced between them, verse after verse being evenly enunciated, he finished the twelfth with a response of Alleluia, and then, by his sudden disappearance from the eyes of all, put an end at once to their discussion and their service.

Whereupon the venerable assembly of the Fathers understood that by divine providence a general rule had been fixed for the congregations of the brethren through the angel’s direction, and so decreed that this number should be preserved both in their evening and in their nocturnal services; and when they added to these two lessons, one from the Old and one from the New Testament, they added them simply as extras and of their own appointment, only for those who liked, and who were eager to gain by constant study a mind well stored with Holy Scripture. But on Saturday and Sunday they read them both from the New Testament; viz., one from the Epistles or the Acts of the Apostles, and one from the Gospel. And this also those do whose concern is the reading and the recollection of the Scriptures, from Easter to Whitsuntide [Pentecost].

These aforesaid prayers, then, they begin and finish in such a way that when the psalm is ended they do not hurry at once to kneel down, as some of us do in this country.… Among them, therefore it is not so, but before they bend their knees they pray for a few moments and while they are standing up spend the greater part of the time in prayer. And so after this, for the briefest space of time, they prostrate themselves to the ground, as if but adoring the divine mercy, and as soon as possible rise up, and again standing erect with outspread hands—just as they had been standing to pray before—remain with thoughts intent upon their prayers.… But when he who is to “collect” the prayer rises from the ground they all start up at once, so that no one would venture to bend the knee before he bows down, nor to delay when he has risen from the ground, lest it should be thought that he has offered his own prayer independently instead of following the leader to the close.

That practice too which we have observed in this country—viz., that while one sings to the end of the psalm, all standing up singing together with a loud voice, “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost”—we have never heard anywhere throughout the East, but there, while all keep silence when the psalm is finished, the prayer that follows is offered up by the singer. But with this hymn in honor of the Trinity, only the whole psalmody is usually ended.

When, then, they meet together to celebrate the aforementioned rites, which they term synaxes, they are all so perfectly silent that, though so large a number of the brethren is assembled together, you would not think a single person was present except the one who stands up and chants the psalm in the midst; and especially is this the case when the prayer is completed, for then there is no spitting, no clearing of the throat, or noise of coughing, no sleepy yawning with open mouths, and gasping, and no groans or sighs are uttered, likely to distract those standing near. No voice is heard save that of the priest concluding the prayer.… They think it best for the prayers to be short and offered up very frequently.

And, therefore, they do not even attempt to finish the psalms, which they sing in the service, by an unbroken and continuous recitation. But they repeat them separately and bit by bit, divided into two or three sections, according to the number of verses, with prayers in between. For they do not care about the number of verses, but about the intelligence of the mind, aiming with all their might at this: “I will sing with the spirit: I will sing also with the understanding.” And so they consider it better for ten verses to be sung with understanding and thought than for a whole psalm to be poured forth with a bewildered mind. Except for Vespers and Nocturns, there are no public services among them during the day except on Saturday and Sunday, when they meet together at the third hour for the purpose of holy communion.

The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship

It is tempting to assume that the worship practices of the earliest churches are reflected in the more developed liturgical traditions that emerged in the fourth century. A resulting view has been that Christian celebration has exhibited essentially the same shape since the apostolic period. This entry challenges that assumption and suggests that the most ancient forms of Christian worship were not uniform but quite diverse.

The basic problem we encounter in the search for the origins of Christian worship is that evidence for liturgical practices during the first three centuries of the church’s history is simply too meager, and fragmentary to enable us to paint a clear picture of it.

Liturgical historians, however, have not been content with this limitation, but have attempted to bridge the chasm of ignorance that stretches between the beginnings of Christianity and the fourth-century church. In order to do this, they have had to make a number of assumptions: (a) that we in fact know what Jewish worship in the first century was like, and therefore have a good idea of the starting point of the worship of the first Christians; (b) that early Christian communities would have wanted to remain faithful in their liturgical customs to the traditions laid down by Jesus and the apostles, and thus would not have differed much in their ways of worship from one another or changed those practices vary substantially in the course of time; (c) that the remarkable similarity that we can observe in many fourth-century Christian worship practices in widely different geographical regions is a sign that these practices go back to the very beginning of the church’s history; and (d) that the pieces of evidence that we do have from the second and third centuries will all fit into the line of development that we can thereby trace from the Jewish roots to the fourth-century church. Today, however, in the light of modern scholarship, those assumptions are all open to question.

First, it is not at all clear that we do know what Jewish worship was like in the first century. Although there are some contemporary sources, they do not tell us all that we would like to know. Therefore Jewish scholars, like their Christian counterparts, have attempted to reconstruct first-century worship on the basis of much later sources, assuming that Judaism did not change much and that most of what they found there would faithfully reflect what Jews of earlier times had done in their worship. More recently, however, Jewish scholars have challenged this method of reconstruction in two ways. Joseph Heinemann, in the 1960s, argued that Jewish liturgy was not standardized from the first, that there was no such thing as a single original form of worship. On the contrary, a large number of different forms of prayer and ways of worshiping were practiced, and only later, beginning in the second and third centuries of the Christian era, did the rabbis gradually attempt to reduce this variety and impose an increasing uniformity on it. Furthermore, Jacob Neusner has subsequently brought into existence a new school of scholarship that views rabbinical literature in a way quite different from that of earlier generations. Formerly, scholars had regarded this later literature as an accurate record of the sayings of individual rabbis that had been carefully handed down over the centuries. Neusner, however, has argued that those who compiled the literature were not simply trying to chronicle the past but also to promote and justify their own worldview, and for that reason were inevitably selective in their approach and exercised a high measure of editorial freedom in their work. Treating this later rabbinical literature, therefore, as though it were a completely reliable guide to Jewish thought and practice in the first century is rather like attempting to reconstruct the life of the historical Jesus from the statements made in fourth-century Christian homilies. The material may certainly contain some valuable evidence for the events of Jesus’ life, but it is extremely difficult to distinguish such evidence from the speculations, interpretations, and accretions that surround it.

Secondly, the supposition that early Christian communities would not have differed much in their ways of worship from one another or changed those practices vary substantially in the course of time is challenged by recent New Testament scholarship. This scholarship has demonstrated that primitive Christianity was not a single uniform entity nor a single theology, but was essentially pluriform from as far back as we can trace it. Since the idea of one single apostolic faith is not confirmed by the sources, except in the broadest terms, it seems extremely unlikely that the worship of the earliest Christian communities—with all their geographic, linguistic, cultural, and theological differences—would have been essentially the same everywhere. Descriptions of worship practices in one New Testament book or in some other early Christian writing, therefore, cannot automatically be assumed to hold true for other Christian communities of the same period, or for earlier or later generations of believers.

Thirdly, what of the remarkable similarity that we can observe in many fourth-century Christian worship practices in different parts of the world? Is that not a sign that they go back to the very beginning of the church’s history? Two responses may be made to this. First, the overall similarity is by no means as great as scholars have tended to suppose. By concentrating on aspects and details that do resemble one another and by ignoring or glossing over differences, it is certainly possible to paint a harmonized picture. However, if one notes more carefully the differences that exist between practices that superficially appear to be similar, a somewhat different picture emerges. Second, there is another possible explanation for the similarities than the claim that they are proof of the great antiquity of the practices in question. While it is probable that some of the likenesses we can observe are certainly the result of continuity of practice from very early times, in other cases the standardization may well be a new development, a consequence of the changed situation of the church in the fourth century. As the church expanded, as communication—and hence awareness of differences—between different regional centers increased, and above all, as orthodox Christianity tried to define itself over against what were perceived as heretical movements, any tendency to persist in what appeared to be idiosyncratic liturgical observances was likely to have been interpreted as a mark of heterodoxy, and hence would have caused local churches to scramble to bring their customs into line with others.

Recent scholarship indeed has begun to point to instances where it appears that this is exactly what happened, among them the emergence of the season of Lent, the spread of the custom of pre-baptismal exorcism and post-baptismal anointing, and the universal choice of Easter as the preferred season for baptism.

Even the classical shape of the eucharistic prayer appears to be more a fourth-century creation than the result of the preservation of a primitive pattern. We need to be more cautious, therefore, in assuming that uniformity is always a sign of antiquity and diversity a sign of later evolution; the exact opposite may frequently be the case.

Finally, there is the claim that the pieces of evidence we do have from the second and third centuries will all fit into a single line of development. This scholarly position has always had to struggle to argue its case and has often been able to do so only by conveniently ignoring, or attempting to explain away, pieces of evidence that cannot be forced to fit. For example, the prayers that occur in chapters 9 and 10 of the early church order known as the Didachē are very similar to Jewish meal prayers but very different from all other known eucharistic prayers of later centuries. While some scholars have ingeniously tried to explain how it was possible for later prayers to have evolved out of this very different pattern, others have rejected them from consideration altogether on the grounds that they are not eucharistic prayers at all—this conclusion being defended by the circular argument that they cannot possibly be eucharistic prayers because they do not resemble other known eucharistic prayers! Similarly, eucharistic prayers found in the apocryphal literature of the period have generally been eliminated from any serious attempts at reconstruction of the line of development because they too fail to conform to expectations of what a eucharistic prayer should look like. In other words, the theory has been given priority over the evidence itself and allowed to determine what should and should not be regarded as legitimate material for inclusion. We know that one can prove almost any hypothesis as long as one disregards anything that might constitute evidence to the contrary. When, however, the evidence is viewed more dispassionately, what is revealed suggests the evidence of quite varied forms of worship in the early church rather than one homogenous line of development.

The conclusion to be drawn from this more recent scholarship, therefore, is that we simply do not know anywhere near as much about early Christian worship as we once thought we did, nor are we ever likely to know as much as we would wish. We must learn to remain content with a measure of “liturgical agnosticism.” Moreover, we must learn to allow our conclusions to be shaped by the evidence itself, rather than by some predetermined theory of how it “must have happened.” We should neither give undue weight to the limited and scattered sources that we do possess nor eliminate or play down pieces of evidence that prove inconvenient to our favorite hypothesis. Above all, we must be open to the possibility of a much wider diversity of primitive Christian liturgical practice than we have tended to recognize hitherto and be willing to admit that the single normative pattern that some liturgical enthusiasts of today often imagine does not seem to have existed in early Christian worship.