The Liturgy of Spiritual Gatherings in the Early Days of Czech Unitarianism by Kristýna Ledererová Kolajová

From the program outline of the Christmas Sádhana, title page and first page, 1932.

In the comments section of my recent post concerning my new, first draft English translation of the 1939 edition of Norbert Fabián Čapek’s “To the Sunny Shore: A Guide to Living Joyfully” (K slunnému brehu: Prúvodce do radostného Zivota), Gabriele S asked a very interesting question about whether, in addition to the well-known Flower Communion service, Čapek had ever produced any liturgies or service-books. I replied, “From my reading, it seems that Čapek's pre-WWII meetings in Prague centred primarily on lectures/talks and, given that he wrote so many hymns, presumably also some singing. What I do know is that the Flower Communion was written as a response to those who felt there needed to be, at least on certain occasions, some more obviously religious ritual present in Czech Unitarian gatherings.”

Well, Gabriele S then did a little more digging and found online a PDF copy of the Czech Unitarian journal called Creative Life (Tvůrčí život) published in 2023 (Volume 12/2023, Issue 1) which, wonderfully, contains an article by Kristýna Ledererová Kolajová called The Liturgy of Spiritual Gatherings in the Early Days of Czech Unitarianism. It’s a mine of important information and my profound thanks go to Kristýna Ledererová Kolajová for having researched and published this piece in the first place and, of course, Gabriele S for alerting me to its existence.

As you will read, it was not only I who had an incorrect, or rather an incomplete, view of the early period of the Czech Unitarian movement, but also many members of the NSČU/RSCU (Náboženská společnost českých unitářů, Religious Society of Czech Unitarians) itself. 

On a personal note, what I find particularly fascinating about this newly uncovered story, is how much it resembles the process that we, here in Cambridge, went through over some fifteen years or more as our Service of Mindful Meditation, Music and Conversation was developed, first as an evening gathering and then, during the COVID-19 pandemic and afterwards, as our community’s main, morning gathering.

It is also fascinating to see the incorporation of an explicit South/East Asian element, sádhana, and quiet meditation into early Czech Unitarian practice. Again, this has been echoed, quite coincidentally (100 years later), in the Cambridge Unitarian community, with our use of the terms jiyū shūkyō and kiitsu kyōkai and the incorporation of mindful meditation in the morning gathering, and Seiza meditation (quiet sitting) in our Thursday gatherings.

All in all, it’s good to know that the modern Cambridge Unitarian community seems to have been following, quite intuitively, an analogous, creative, inquiring, free and liberative spiritual path to that first followed by our Czech Unitarian brothers and sisters a hundred years or so ago. It stands for me, and I hope you, as a powerful reminder of just how innovative and far-sighted Čapek and his early Unitarian community was.

So, once again, thank you to Kristýna Ledererová Kolajová (and Gabriele S) for this most interesting, educative, encouraging, and inspiring piece.

I hope readers of this blog enjoy the following essay as much as I did.

—o0o—

The Liturgy of Spiritual Gatherings in the Early Days of Czech Unitarianism

Kristýna Ledererová Kolajová [1]

[The original Czech text can be found at this link]

Even today, within the NSČU/RSCU (Náboženská společnost českých unitářů, Religious Society of Czech Unitarians), we occasionally encounter the view that certain liturgical elements in the typical Unitarian “sandwich-style” spiritual gathering are not part of the original Czech Unitarian tradition. According to this perspective, such elements were “artificially" imported from abroad after the Velvet Revolution. This view claims that the only traditional foundation of Czech Unitarian gatherings consists of a sermon — often structured as a lecture — occasionally accompanied by Čapek’s hymns or perhaps a meditative reading, with all other aspects being non-native additions introduced long after Czech Unitarianism was established.

This significant misunderstanding may have two roots. First, in the readily available literature on pre-war Czech Unitarianism, there is, to my knowledge, only one instance contradicting this view. In other words, none of the pre-war authors described the liturgy of Unitarian gatherings in detail, let alone its individual components. What we do have is a wealth of published sermons, which were regularly and abundantly shared.

The second source of this misconception likely lies in the period following the rise of the Communist Party, through to the fall of its totalitarian regime (a span of nearly forty years). During this time, under external pressures and a lack of well-trained Unitarian clergy, the concept of our gatherings deteriorated, eventually becoming reduced to something resembling a lecture. Those who lived through these difficult times, many of whom are still alive today, had little or no opportunity to experience the pre-war period of freedom and flourishing in our movement. From their personal experiences, their perspective is entirely understandable.

However, the reality is far richer and more varied than this view suggests. When I first encountered the idea that our tradition was limited to delivering “lectures,” I found it difficult to accept. Norbert Fabián Čapek, a key figure in Czech Unitarianism, placed great importance on meaningful experiences. He explored how communities could influence individuals, at least from a psychological and emotional perspective, and was familiar with the practices of Unitarian gatherings in the USA. Would he have avoided the benefits of a more diverse and engaging liturgy?

To uncover the truth, it was necessary to delve into archival sources [2]. These sources allow us to construct a more objective picture of the liturgy of early Czech Unitarian gatherings. However, due to their incomplete nature, we cannot draw full and comprehensive conclusions.

EARLY VISION – BEFORE THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE FREE FELLOWSHIP

Even before the founding of the Free Fellowship, Čapek was clearly considering how a newly formed spiritual community might take shape, including the structure of its worship services. A surviving draft of his reflections on this topic, dating to before the inaugural meeting, reveals that creating a sensory-rich experience and an innovative liturgy were central to his thinking. In a series of concise notes, Čapek outlined the following vision:

“At the centre, a lit tree or flowers; music behind a curtain, hidden. The fragrance of Indian incense. Lighting that changes to suit different moods:
    

– 1.  Calm [Quieting]: sky blue
   
– 2. Enthusiasm: sunlit yellow, gold
   
– 3. Hope: natural green


Occasional standing and bowing. Czech sung litanies. A spoken address; selected readings. [...]
 Those who wish may bring a flower and take one home. As many flowers as possible.
For the first service, use the materials at hand: hymns of the Free Fellowship; prayers, selected readings.” [3]

What can we take from this? From the beginning, it is clear that Čapek valued engaging the senses: he envisioned using fragrances, colours, music, and the active involvement of participants in certain parts of the gathering. Of the five senses, only taste was left out. This vision was a far cry from the mere delivery of intellectual ideas or reflections in the form of speeches. That said, Čapek’s early practical efforts likely fell short of this ambitious vision, perhaps due to practical constraints. [4]

THE EARLY YEARS AND BUILDING THE COMMUNITY (1922–1928)

In the early years, roughly from 1922 to 1925, Čapek and the newly formed leadership of the Free Fellowship concentrated primarily on expanding membership and raising public awareness of the new movement.

The programs reflected this goal. Gatherings were largely “recruitment-focused,” dominated by lecture-style presentations and a somewhat confrontational rhetoric that emphasized the contrast between “our” innovative approach and the predominantly Christian religious traditions of the time. The aim was to attract potential members and define the movement’s unique identity. At this stage, liturgy played a far lesser role compared to public discourse in achieving these objectives.

As the membership base grew and members began to form stronger personal and mutual connections, the leadership of the Free Fellowship, guided by Čapek’s thoughtful management and clear vision, gradually shifted focus toward building a cohesive, interconnected community. This marked a slow but deliberate transition from rhetoric focused on defining “who we are and who we are not” to creating shared spiritual experiences as a genuinely unifying and transformative element.

From archival records of program development, early efforts at systematic member education, and the organisational structure of the community, this transitional period can be approximately dated from 1926 to 1928.

By the end of this period, Czech Unitarianism reached a peak of pre-war development, both in terms of the number and variety of its programs and the creative evolution of its spiritual gatherings. (As previously outlined, Čapek was not improvising but had been working toward this vision from the beginning, making thoughtful, incremental adjustments in response to the needs of the growing community.)

In 1928, the community introduced the liturgy we recognize today: a “sandwich” structure incorporating a wide array of elements that could be flexibly adapted—rearranged, omitted, or expanded—depending on the occasion or the specific needs of the community at the time.

It is important to note, however, that this liturgical evolution is documented primarily for Prague gatherings. Branch communities developed at a slower pace, with many still in the “recruitment” phase during this period. Moreover, there is insufficient archival evidence to describe the liturgy of the branches in the 1920s in detail.

Gatherings outside Prague were also far less frequent during this time. While gatherings in Prague were held weekly, in the branches they occurred at best every two weeks, but more often only once a month—hardly sufficient for sustained liturgical development.

Even in Prague, based on the available sources, it is clear that no standardized format existed. However, it is certain that richly designed liturgies were not uncommon. Let us now take a closer look at them. [5]

THE PERIOD OF THE FIRST BLOSSOMING OF CZECH UNITARIAN LITURGY (1928–1935)

With a high degree of certainty, we can say that the first intentional use of a more diverse range of liturgical elements in the Free Fellowship occurred during a gathering held on Christmas Day, 25 December 1928, in the Church of St. Nicholas in Old Town Square. We have preserved both the complete program of the event (in the form of a four-page printed leaflet for participants) and a typed account from one of the attendees, dated early January 1929. This account is worth quoting as it sheds light on the new approach to working with liturgy:

“At Christmas, we held a celebratory gathering in the Church of St. Nicholas, which differed somewhat in its program from the usual gatherings held there. Brother Čapek called the responsive reading that preceded the usual sermon ‘The Presence of Love.’ Both its deeply spiritual content and the way it was presented—participants alternated reading selected thoughts from our living bible with the presenter—left a profound impression on everyone. Special programs with the corresponding readings were prepared for this gathering, and for the first time, the gathering was referred to using the new term ‘arkona.’ Our gatherings are essentially a type of worship service, but to avoid associating the usual ecclesiastical meaning with this term, we have decided to refer to all our gatherings from now on using the Old Slavic term arkona, [6] which we are also imbuing with new meaning.” [7]

It is important to cite this source because the official public publication Cesty a cíle (Paths and Goals) contains no mention of the responsive reading (likely the first, or one of the first, in the Free Fellowship) or the introduction of the term arkona into Unitarian terminology. It merely states that this gathering was a great surprise for many attendees, marking the first attempt to create a counterpart to the Flower Communion for the Christmas season, and that a printed program was issued, with all participants leaving deeply moved. The information concludes somewhat cryptically:

“Suffice it to say that we are creating and will continue to create new and improved expressions of our collective religious feeling.” [8]

In addition to the mentioned responsive reading, divided during the course of the gathering into two parts, the gathering included two hymns sung together, several instances of instrumental music without singing (both led by choirmaster Miroslav Ezop), Čapek’s sermon (listed in the program as speech), and a prayer. The opening and closing were marked by organ music. When visualised, this liturgy—with its structure and content—closely resembles the traditional format we use today.

However, it lacked the lighting and extinguishing of the chalice, as the chalice was not yet a symbol or liturgical element in Unitarianism at that time. Similarly, there were no dynamic, participatory elements, such as the Candle of Sharing. That said, from Čapek’s thoughts on worship (as cited earlier) and from the early Flower Communions, it is evident that he did not neglect such participatory elements and was adept at incorporating them.

The term arkona became widely used in the Free Fellowship (evidenced by the naming of the hall in the former burgher chapel on Karlova Street 8, the Fellowship’s new headquarters, sometime in 1929). However, in subsequent years, another term, sádhana (written sadhána in the Fellowship), borrowed from non-Abrahamic religions, began to replace it for at least some gatherings. In Sanskrit, sádhana refers to a daily spiritual practice, but in the Fellowship, it came to signify a type of worship service.

It is unclear when the term sádhana was first used. The earliest reference in the archives is from a Christmas gathering in 1932 [9]. Based on archival records, I estimate that only one gathering per month was labeled as sádhana, as these records, though undated, bear monthly designations (e.g., New Year’s Sádhana, February Sádhana).

Of particular importance is the evidence that the programmatic outlines for these sádhanas confirm the continued use of the “sandwich” format, incorporating now-typical elements such as responsive readings tailored by ministers [10], the use of flowers in services (appearing on special occasions beyond the Flower Communion), communal singing, meditative readings, music, and the organ for instrumental pieces. By late 1932 (earlier evidence is lacking), another element—silent meditation—became a regular part of services, recorded in programs as quieting or stilling.

The centrepiece remained the sermon, still listed as speech.

Let us now focus on the order of liturgical components, as this significantly affects the overall impact of the liturgy. According to all preserved programs, gatherings of this period always began with a hymn (sometimes preceded by organ music). By the late 1920s, the sermon was typically placed around the midpoint of the gathering (following the responsive reading) and was evenly surrounded by other elements. Responsive reading, positioned earlier, was balanced by a meditative reading following the sermon.

As far as the inclusion of stilling into the liturgy was concerned, it was consistently placed at the start of the gathering, after the welcome and opening hymn. Silent meditation was intended to calm participants and help focus their minds for attentive engagement with the sermon, which was then moved to the first half of the gathering. After the sermon came an interactive element (if included), responsive reading, and additional hymns (one to three, depending on the occasion and the gathering’s significance). Responsive readings often occurred in sections, interspersed with hymns, highlighting their creative significance during this period.

Meditative readings were typically positioned at the end of the gathering, followed only by the organ music. On special occasions, though not always, readings from various sources (the New Testament, Čapek’s writings, or secular texts) appeared in programs. These elements typify services from 1932 to 1935, but archival evidence for subsequent years is lacking.

An interesting detail is the terminology. In the earliest preserved program (1928), the term prayer was still used (likely in the sense of Unitarian meditation), consistent with Čapek’s earlier reflections on worship before the Fellowship’s establishment. In later programs, the term meditation replaced prayer. This distinction was applied rigorously in adult programs, but materials for children’s Sunday school retained both terms. An archival compilation of children’s texts (spanning the 1930s to 1950) shows both terms used for texts with identical structure and meaning, though meditation predominated.

In summary, while both terms appear inconsistently in some contexts (such as weekly calendars), the broader shift reflects a maturing understanding of liturgical language.

CONCLUSION

This study of the liturgy of our early gatherings is far from comprehensive. It offers only a brief glimpse into this aspect of the daily life of the Free Fellowship and the early developmental phase of the NSČU. It is constrained by the lack of consistently preserved sources needed for a complete picture and by the narrow scope of the available materials. The printed and typed program outlines of gatherings, which form the primary basis of this analysis, provide no insight into the atmosphere or the impact on the community, nor do they reveal the intentions behind how Čapek and other ministers designed these services. To better understand these dimensions, we would need different kinds of sources—perhaps firsthand accounts from participants, personal preparatory notes from the ministers, or organisational leadership meeting records addressing such topics, assuming such records even exist. Unfortunately, we have only fragmentary information in these areas, though we are grateful for what has been preserved, as it allows us to construct at least a general outline.

Similarly, we lack sufficient evidence to say definitively whether the described liturgy was limited to special gatherings, used regularly during specific periods (e.g., at the first gathering of each month, as partially documented for 1933), or was common practice.

The most critical conclusion, however, which can be drawn unequivocally from the available materials, is that our contemporary understanding of liturgy is not a modern import. On the contrary, it is a seamless continuation of the tradition forged by our predecessors in the 1920s and 1930s. Even then, Czech Unitaria engaged in a deeply creative and carefully considered approach to the “sandwich" style of gatherings familiar from the English-speaking world. Even then, none of the classic Unitarian liturgical elements we use today were missing, apart from the lighting and extinguishing of the chalice, which did not emerge in global Unitarianism until after World War II.

I believe that the Unitarians of that era merit our respect for the timeless and innovative ways in which they shaped spiritual gatherings for the newly forming Czech Unitarianism.

NOTES

[1] The original Czech text can be found at this link:
 https://unitaria.cz/tvurci-zivot/4349-TZ_23-01_web.pdf

[2] Among these, I particularly include the monthly publication Cesty a cíle, which is otherwise a very important, valuable, and authentic source of data about Czech Unitarianism, as well as non-periodical publications released by our publishing house during the first two decades of its existence.

[3] NSČU Archive, folder 33, Čapek's proposal for a worship gathering, loose sheet, handwritten notes (undated, before the founding of the Free Fellowship).

[4] We can only draw on fragmentarily preserved documents, primarily leaflets for individual programs. For some years, these were not printed at all in the Free Fellowship. In others, they were issued relatively frequently (though that does not mean they have all been preserved).

[5] The following text intentionally omits the Flower Communions and their liturgy because these have been distinct from the outset, both in terms of the structure of the gathering itself and their exceptional position within the liturgical calendar. We have ample sources on their conception, and perhaps they deserve a dedicated study in our journal this year (the centenary of the first Flower Communion).

[6] English translator’s note: The most famous reference to “Arkona” is the Slavic pagan temple-fortress on the island of Rügen (modern-day Germany). This site was a centre of worship for the deity Svarog/Svantevit, a major god in Slavic mythology. The temple at Arkona was renowned for its grandeur before it was destroyed during the Christianization of the region in the 12th century.

[7] NSČU Archive, folder 81, memorial book, year 1929, pasted typescript, p. 1.

[8] From the Free Fellowship, Cesty a cíle 7, 1929, no. 1, p. 7.

[9] NSČU Archive, folder 13, four-page bound program with covers, Christmas Sádhana, 25 December 1932.

[10] From the pre-war years, we have so far found nine preserved program booklets or leaflets containing detailed responsive readings, with one additional example published in Cesty a cíle (12, 1934, no. 5, pp. 65+). Each of them is unique, although the readings from Christmas Sádhana 1932 and New Year’s 1933 share the same theme (colours) and general sentiment, but their texts differ.