Wednesday, October 30, 2013

All Hallows' Eve, All Saints', and All Souls' (Midweek Message)




Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message
October 30, 2013
All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’, and All Souls’

This week is the Christian autumn (in the northern hemisphere, at least) Triduum (three day festival): All Hallows’ Eve (Oct. 31), All Saints’ Day (Nov. 1), and All Souls’ Day (Nov. 2).  It mirrors the Spring Triduum (Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday).  Where spring reminds us of life and new beginnings, the fall reminds of death and the endings that must precede new things.

Here at Trinity, at 4:45 p.m. on Thursday, we will have our half-hour All Hallows’ Service for the community after the Halloween parade: all are welcome.   We will transfer our commemorations for Friday and Saturday:  the noon mass on Thursday will use the All Souls’ readings, and on Sunday we will celebrate All Saints’ Sunday (with a litany for all the beloved departed).  

Our commemorations of the departed, both the Saints and all the rest, remind us that we all—living, dead, and yet-to-come—are in this together, beloved creatures of our loving God.   We remember the examples of the saints and hope that they pray for us; we mourn the loss of the beloved ones we no longer see, and we pray for them.    As May Sarton says so well in her poem “All Souls,” mourning and remembrance do not end.  They are signs of the love that binds us together. 

All Souls
--May Sarton

Did someone say that there would be an end,
an end, Oh, an end to love and mourning?
What has been once so interwoven cannot be raveled,
not the gift ungiven.
Now the dead move through all of us still glowing.
Mother and child, lover and lover mated,
are wound and bound together and enflowing.
What has been plaited cannot be unplaited--
only the strands grow richer with each loss
and memory makes kings and queens of us.
Dark into light, light into darkness, spin.
When all the birds have flown to some real haven,
we who find shelter in the warmth within,
listen and feel new-cherished, new-forgiven,
as the lost human voices speak through us and blend our complex love,
our mourning without end.

Grace and Peace,
Fr. Tony+ 



Sunday, October 27, 2013

Two Kinds of Lonely (Proper 25C)

 
Two Kinds of Lonely
Twentieth-first Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 25 Year C RCL)
27 October 2013--8:00 a.m. Said, 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
(With Holy Baptism)
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland (Oregon)

God, give us hearts to feel and love,
take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

A popular song when I was a teenager went, “I'm in with the in crowd, I go where the in crowd goes.  I'm in with the in crowd and I know what the in crowd knows.”  It was ironic and campy, but it spoke us teenagers, so unsure of ourselves. At certain moments later in my life, I had glimpses where the song’s idea was not taken ironically. 

Once, the executive of a senior political leader took me aside and said,  “Listen I know that you’re not like (here she listed several of my foreign service colleagues).  They just don’t get it.  But you do, and I’m sure your can do this just like my boss wants.”   Another time, in the rarefied air of a research institute in religion, a senior professor said to some graduate students with me, “We are the elite and can handle the truth.   The many out there—pffff—forget about them.  Tell them whatever convenient simplification will keep them happy.”  Yet another time, I met with my boss the senior editor of a major fashion magazine (the one who the book The Devil Wears Prada wrote about).   In every phrase and gesture, every choice of clothing and mannerism, she passed the message, all so subtly, all so politely, “We are better than all those little people out there, and we have a responsibility to lead them despite themselves.”    

Today’s Gospel is a parable that Jesus told against “those who belittled others because they thought they were better than them.” 
Two men who go to the Temple to pray: One is a Pharisee who keeps all the laws, an upright member of the community.  The other is a Tax Collector—a traitor to his people, collaborator with the hated Roman oppressors, who gouges and steals money for his own profit.  The parable praises the evil man and condemns the righteous. 

There are three ways that we commonly misread this parable.

The first is that Jesus is condemning Pharisees in general, saying that they were all hypocritical, self-satisfied, and holier-than-thou.   But at the time of Jesus, the Pharisees were generally seen as the most democratic, sincere, humble and open groups of the various Jewish sects.   Their principal teachers tried to build personal piety and obeying God’s Law, both in its details and intent.   Jesus is closer to them than any other group in his teaching.  The point here is not to criticize Pharisees as a group, but rather shock the listener into new understanding by contrasting an upstanding lover of God with a wicked traitor.

The second misreading is that Jesus is praising the Tax Collector’s chest-beating, over-wrought guilt as the one-size-fits-all proper approach to God.   This view, to be sure, is fostered and popularized by the grim pessimism of theologians like Saint Augustine and John Calvin, and Martin Luther.   But I wonder if that is what Jesus means here.  When Jesus approaches the truly wretched, he does not beat up on them and tell them to further abase themselves.  He heals lepers, not tell them to beat their breasts as sinners.  To such people, Jesus announces joyful news of liberation, new life, and the jubilant arrival of God’s Reign.

The third misreading is that Jesus here is trying to teach salvation by grace alone apart from works, again, usually as contained in the writings of Augustine, Calvin or Luther.  While this parable may provide a facile proof-text for such a doctrine, there is nothing in it to suggest that deeds do not matter, nor that the Tax Collector somehow has confessed Jesus as his savior.

So what does it mean?  

  
Jesus’ parables regularly turn things upside down and try to get each of us to stand in delighted awe of God’s great surprises.   An honored and righteous priest and Levite pass by a gravely injured fellow Jew, and it is a hated and loathed Samaritan that finally helps the poor man and acts as a true neighbor.   A shameless father, unconcerned about his honor and the order of his house, runs out and hugs, and then throws a big party for, a troubled son who had as much wished him dead and then frivolously spent half of his estate on detested vices.   In his parables, Jesus chooses incongruous or shocking images to represent God at work:  the Reign of God is not seen as a great cedar tree or vine, but rather a wild and unclean weed, the mustard plant; ritually suspect leaven or yeast represents the Kingdom at work, not pure, unleavened loaves for Passover.   Such scenes shock us out of our regular ways of thinking, and make us look, really look, in wonder at the world around us and the God at work in it.

Notice here that the righteous Pharisee stands by himself in the center of things as he thanks God that he is not like all the other sinners around.  He stands by himself in order to draw attention to himself, so that he can clearly point out the differences that separate him from and make him better than other people.  He praises God that he has been able to do all sorts of good acts, in contrast to people like ‘that Tax Collector over there’.    

The Tax Collector stands “afar off” to the side, avoiding contact with others because of his shame.  He doesn’t dare raise his eyes up to heaven, and simply asks God “have mercy on me, a sinner.”    Why is he ashamed?   He is one of the telones, a class of entrepreneurs who collected tolls, governmental surcharges, and head taxes.  They were a rough lot, closer to what we would call the “muscle” of a gangster loan shark operation than an IRS agent.  The word translated as tax collector, or publican, is probably better translated by revenue farmer.   They are traitors to their people.  This is what the tax collector bemoans as he beats his breast.

Jesus says that it is the Tax Collector and not the Pharisee who went out of the Temple that day having been made right with God.  Why? 

Jesus has chosen two stereotypes here:  the righteous, pious, and socially responsible Pharisee and the irreligious, unscrupulous, and morally tainted Tax Collector.

The difference between the two is in their hearts.  Though both stand by themselves, though both are lonely, there are two kinds of lonely here.  The Pharisee isolates himself because he has contempt for others and thinks he is better than everyone else.  The Tax Collector is lonely because he is ashamed and isolated because others look down on him, and he recognizes that they are right.  His standing far off is actually an act of solidarity with other people, recognizing that their judgment of him is right.  So the loneliness of the Pharisee drives him away from other people and from God.  The loneliness of the Tax Collector  drives him toward other people and God. 

There are not just two kinds of lonely.  When we think of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector and which one was closer to God, which one was neared to God, we need to remember that there are two different kinds of nearness also: what C.S. Lewis calls nearness of proximity and nearness of approach.

A hiker in the mountains comes out onto a ledge and sees, there beneath her, the small town where she wants to spend the night. It is only about 500 meters away—straight down. To get there, she must continue on the path, with its switchbacks and gradual descent. At moments, she must actually go farther and farther away from her goal—800 meters, 1400 meters as the crow flies—before the switchback turns. But all the time, she is actually getting closer to her evening resting spot.  


Jesus’ point in contrasting the two men in the Temple is that from the point of view of nearness of proximity, the Pharisee is much closer to God than the Tax Collector, but from the point of view of nearness of approach, and this is in the long run the only thing that counts—the Tax Collector is nearer to God by far, despite appearances and what stereotypes tell us to expect. 

The Pharisee here, against the better teachings of his own tradition, has let his contempt for others and his desire to be better than others close his heart to any possible action from God.  The Tax Collector, against expectation and the normal way these guys behave, senses that he is in this with all the others.  And finding himself in along with all the others, he has a lot to be sorry for. 

In a word, the Pharisee here is unable to get any closer to God or to his fellows.  The Tax Collector has made a start at both. 

If there is any such thing as an eternal hell, I believe its doors are locked not from the outside by God, but from the inside by the people suffering there. They do so because they persist in rejecting the love of God, afraid of accepting that they are in this with all the rest, one of God’s beloved creatures.

Better a wicked man who knows he is one sorry mess than a “righteous” one with no clue as to how hard his heart has become.  This is the idea Jesus seeks to convey in the parable.   The self-satisfied religious man, singing “I’m in with the in crowd,” is unwilling to relate to others except as inferiors, as little people who don’t get it or won’t understand it.  He is unwilling to relate to God except as one who owes him for his ability to remain as “in with the in crowd.” So he remains stone-cold hearted, and is not justified by God when he returns to his home from the Temple. 

I pray that all of us this week can find ways to connect with others in our lives, especially those upon whom we have a tendency to look down upon.   This story makes me wonder whether looking down upon anyone is a sign of dire spiritual illness, a sickness unto death.  Perhaps it’s not just a mild foible.   It might be best to learn to root it out of our hearts and minds, and erase its vocabulary from our voices. 

In the name of Christ,  Amen. 

 

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

There Always (Mid-week Message)

 


Sun Wukong running from the Rulai Buddha.  

Fr. Tony’s Mid-week Message
October 21, 2013
There Always


“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go then from your Spirit?
            Where can I flee from your presence?
If I climb up to heaven, you are there;
            If I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
If I take the wings of the morning
            And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there your hand will lead me
            And your right hand hold me fast.”  (Psalm 139:5-9)

There is a story in the Chinese Classic, the Journey to the West, of the mischievous Monkey King trying to flee away from the Buddha.  He puts on magic boots that carry him thousands of miles in a stride, and jumps and runs for weeks and years. Finally, he comes to what he thinks is the end of the universe:  in the blank space, there are five great white marble pillars, all stretching beyond sight up and down, with each of the two end ones only barely discernable in the distance at each horizon.  Monkey King believes he has finally come to where he can be free, unencumbered by higher authority and power.  But as he begins to cross to the other side of the boundary pillars, they begin to move silently in on him to capture him.  He realizes he has been in the palm of the Buddha during all his flight.  

We often talk about God as if God is outside the universe of nature, somewhere “up there,” or “out there.” From there, God supposedly occasionally, very rarely, intervenes and acts in our lives and world.  Such an intervention is often seen as a “miracle” or overruling of nature’s laws. 

But a more orthodox way of seeing this is that God is behind and beneath our lives and the world about us.  “In him we live, and move, and have our being,” says Saint Paul (Acts 17:28).   It is not that all things in our world are God, but that God is the ground upon which or in which it all rests.  It is not so much that God intervenes in human lives from outside, but rather that God's good intention and will is always at work, and that we need to do things to lessen resistance to it and enhance cooperation with it.   

This view helps us to feel the presence of God in all situations.  It corrects any tendency we might have to magical thinking, of that cheap view of God as some kind of wacky great uncle that we need to convince to give us things we want.
Grace and Peace,

Fr. Tony+

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Not until You Bless Me (Proper 24C)

 

Not Until You Bless Me
Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 24 Year C RCL)
20 October 2013--8:00 a.m. Said, 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass

The Rev. Dr. Anthony Hutchinson
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland (Oregon)

God, give us hearts to feel and love,
take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

When Ronald Reagan was running against incumbent president Jimmie Carter in 1980, only one presidential debate took place.  Most people believe that Reagan won the debate by use of a single memorable line.  When Carter began to list what he saw as the deficiencies of Reagan’s record when it came to Medicare and Medicaid, Reagan interrupted, “There you go again!”  The audience burst into laughter.  Reagan had defused the criticism not through any refutation of fact or appeal to a higher principle, but just by strategically expressing well that most human of emotions, exasperation.

“There you go again,” a tired young woman said to her husband through gritted teeth in a counseling session I assisted in.

“There you go again,”  was a mutual reproach regularly on our children’s lips when they would bring disputes to Elena and me

“There you go again!” Whether it is relapse into addiction, lying, gambling, irresponsible spending, infidelity, abusive language or actions—these are words of exasperation at a person’s apparent inability to change, despite promises, resolutions, and commitments to amend one’s ways. 

By expressing it, Reagan won his audience’s heart, regardless of their politics.  We all want to say it at times, but usually do not, since it is not a particularly helpful thing to say. 

“There you go again!”  Thus we often silently reproach ourselves, disgusted and unhappy that, once again, we have not lived up to our stated values. 

Today’s reading from Genesis tells the story of a man who had a hard time changing.   He was a feisty, conniving, self-seeking man.  His parents noticed that even in the womb, he seemed to struggle with his twin brother.  His brother Esau was born first, but the feisty younger brother rejected his second-place by grasping firmly Esau’s heel at birth.  So his parents named him Jacob, “Heel.” And a heel he turned out to be. 

A maneuverer from the start, he plays on his brother Esau’s simplicity and hunger to get him to ignorantly trade away his birthright for a plate of lentil stew.  Later, he impersonates Esau in order to steal Esau’s blessing as well as his birthright.

“There you go again, you heel!”  Esau, tired at being tricked, simply begins plotting to murder Jacob as soon as their father is dead.  So Jacob, ever wily, leaves town to lie low for a while.   He goes to his uncle Laban’s home far away to lie low until things calm down.

As Jacob flees, he clearly is in distress.  All his tricks have just gotten him into trouble, and he has to flee for his life.  During his escape, he has a vision of a ladder into heaven, and for the first time connects with the God of his grandfather Abraham and his father Isaac.  He calls the place Bethel, the House of God.  But he remains Jacob, the heel. 

His uncle too is a trickster.   When the two settle on a bride price for Jacob to marry one of his cousins, the uncle tricks Jacob into paying double the bride price—a 14-year work contract—and taking on an additional daughter as well.  Jacob’s hard work and business savvy is profitable for both nephew and uncle. When the shared assets grow to a size worth arguing about, tensions develop.  Jacob knows it is time to return to Canaan when, as he says to his wives, “Your father is not treating me a nicely as he used to.”  

Now comes the problem of divvying up the wealth and getting away from Haran safe and sound. Jacob still has tricks up his sleeve.  ‘Mr. Heel’ turns the tables by tricking the trickster.  He rigs the process of selecting flocks in his favor, he ends up with the lion’s portion.  So he has to flee his uncle by night too, just as he had to flee his brother.  “There you go again!”  

As Jacob prepares to return to Canaan, he is afraid that Esau still will murder him.  So he sends messengers with kind words.  They return and say that Esau is coming to welcome him home—accompanied by 400 armed men!

Yikes.  The big man may be dull, but he clearly does not forget a grudge. 

Jacob is prudent.  He divides his large caravan into two camps:  if Esau takes the first by violence, at least Jacob might have half his family and goods left.  Then he sends all the huge baggage and livestock train in several small groups ahead, all with the instructions that if Esau challenges them, they are to say they are gifts from Jacob for his dear brother Esau.   Finally, he sends his own immediate family.   But he still is too afraid.  He alone goes back to spend the night on the riverbank outside of Canaan.

That is when the story we read today happens.  It is mysterious, and dark.  Jacob is accosted by a man who wrestles with him in the dark.  The struggle goes on until the break of dawn, when the stranger, desperate to end the match, touches Jacob so that his hip is dislocated.  Some believe the only pressure point for such an effect was Jacob’s heel.     Jacob, the heel, is now injured through his heel and no longer can wrestle.  He might as well give up.  But he continues to hold on for dear life.  The stranger says, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”  Jacob replies, “Not until you bless me.” 

Jacob, the trickster, has run out of tricks.  He is desperate, unsure that his maneuvers will turn away Esau’s wrath.  He might lose everything in the next few hours.  The struggle in the dark in some ways represents the struggle going on in his heart:  his fears and plots versus the hope for a new day.  Fresh out of tricks, all he can do is hold tightly.  “Bless me,” he begs, “Bless me.” 

The stranger asks, “What is your name?  Who are you?”  “Jacob,” is the answer, “a heel, a trickster.” 

This confession, this avowal of stark truth when all options and plans are gone, marks a real change in Jacob’s life.  The stranger blesses him in reply, “Jacob is not your name, but Yisrael—God struggles.”  “You are a heel no more.  You are now someone with whom God struggles.”

The day comes, and Jacob limps back to cross the river to his family.  His limp will stay with him the rest of his life.  He greets Esau later in the day, and the brothers are reconciled (with Esau in fine Asian style first refusing all the gifts, and then, after his brother’s urging,  accepting many of them.) 



I wonder if this story might be about each one of us.

How many of us are Jacob here?  Do we say to ourselves: “There you go again!” “You heel!”  “What can I do to get out of this fix I’ve gotten myself into?”  “How can I possibly not return to this bad place, since I have returned so many times?” 

When others have hurt us, how many of us are like Esau here?  Do we want to blurt out “There you go again,” and never again have anything to do with them, even though we have ties that bind us?   Do we secretly delight in their misfortune? 

I suggest that in all of this, God is there, loving us, supporting us, and holding us tightly, whether we know it or not.    It is possible for us to let our exasperation give us sight in the dark night.   And if we do, then we might just have to hold tightly onto God, and not let go, even though everything is going wrong and we hurt.  We might just say, “I won’t let go, not until you bless me.” 

The good news is this:  our failings and the failings of others are ways that God shows his love and grace.

St. Paul knew this when he spoke of the mysterious “thorn” God had placed in his flesh as a reminder of his constant need for grace.  He writes: “but [God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’  So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me… for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor 12: 9-10)

Jacob’s hip is maimed by a touch to his heel.  And as a result Jacob is healed by being wounded.  Seeing that he is “God struggles with me” instead of “Mr. Heel” is the blessing.    Israel instead of Jacob.    

Sometimes people complain that our liturgy is too penitential, too focused on confessing our failings.  And they are right to think that emphasizing sin too much can be downright pathological.  The Eucharist if nothing else should be a celebration. 

But it is important too to be honest about who and what we are, or at least what we seem to ourselves to be.  Like Jacob, we need to confess our name, recognize where we do not measure up.  Because it is in these very gaps that God seizes us and where we have to hang on and say, “I won’t let go until you bless me.”    It is not about trying to be perfect and bemoaning the fact that we are not.  It is about being honest and grateful, about faith. 

As Leonard Cohen says in his song “Anthem,”      

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

This week, find something in yourself that needs forgiving, needs remedying. And in your prayers, pray that God will help you with it, simply help.  And then be patient.   Say you won’t let go until he blesses you.  Be like that persistent woman in the Gospel reading.  And forgive yourself.    

Also find something in someone in your life that needs forgiving, needs correcting, something that makes you angry.  And just forgive them.  If that’s not possible, ask God to help you forgive.  And say you won’t let go until he blesses you in this. 

In the name of Christ, 

Amen. 

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Glimpses from the Temple (Mid-week Message)




Glimpses from the Temple
Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message
October 16, 2013

We often hear in Ashland the word “contemplation” or “contemplative.”  It usually brings to mind the image of someone who mediates or observes, with little or no speaking, and sees things, or at least, feels ways about things, that the rest of us don’t. 

The word contemplate comes from the Latin verb contemplari, “to look at carefully.” The word combines the preposition con “with” and templum “temple, holy place, place for seeing auspices or omens.”  Its most basic meaning is seeing into things and grasping their true sense.

In medieval Christian theology, there are three ways of seeing:  the sight we have with our physical eyes (visio), the perception (literally, through-sight) we gain through use of our reason, intuition, imagination, and reflection (meditatio or ratio), and the insight we experience when in unity with God (contemplatio).  

St. Thomas Aquinas, that paragon of rationality and reason, brought Aristotelian logic to the practice of theology.  Near the end of his life he had a mystical experience where he glimpsed God’s love and glory.    Having had such contemplative insight, he characterized all his previous work as “so much straw.”   He declined to say more about his experience.   The word mystical comes from the Greek verb myo, “to be mute, remain silent.”   Some things just can’t be talked about because of the inadequacy of our language. 

Contemplation involves looking quietly, carefully, and seeing matters under the aspect of the eternal.  In it we have the perspective of being in a place of holy divination, of perceiving the holy pattern and intention in things.  We often express sponsorship or protection by saying that something is “under the auspices” or “aegis” of someone.   In ancient pagan Greece and Rome, the Aegis was the goat-skin shield of Athena with supreme protective power; an auspice was an omen or sign of the gods’ will or intention.   A templum was a place where auspices were divined.   Contemplation thus also means seeing the divine protection and gracious intention in all things.

St. Julian of Norwich, in her Showings of Divine Love, does not so much speak about her mystical experience as hint at snippets of it.  The universe is seen as fragile hazelnut in the hand of God, protected from harm: “All is well and all is well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” 

None of us is perfect, and all of us have our bad moments, our bad days.  Glimpses from the temple help us get through, and see God’s love is all around.  Quiet spiritual practice, steadily pursued, helps give us such glimpses.

Grace and Peace, 

Fr. Tony+


Monday, October 14, 2013

Instructed Eucharist

 
Trinity Parish Instructed Eucharist
 October 6 and 13, 2013 
[[--]] indicates phrases omitted at said Eucharist
CAPITALIZED AND ITALICIZED indicates rite as outlined in program bulletin

Broadly adapted from the Instructed Eucharist (in one service) by All Souls Episcopal Parish, Berkeley, Calif., and the Rev. Canon Grant S. Carey, Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento, California, and posted at  http://bookofcommonprayer.blogspot.com/2009/04/instructed-eucharist.html

PART ONE  -- THE ANTECOMMUNION (Gathering and Liturgy of the Word)

Before the Service Begins (from the Narthex)

CELEBRANT:
Today and next Sunday here at Trinity, we are doing something out of the ordinary.   In our worship services, we are going to pause and explain what we are doing and why.   This will take time, so we will not have homilies either Sunday.  There will be a short question time after the service in the Parish Hall. 

NARRATOR I: For around 2,000 years, Christians have come together week after week, communing with God in a very special way, the “Holy Eucharist.”   Eucharist is a Greek word for “Thanksgiving.”   In the Greek Church it is called the Divine Liturgy, which means the Work or Duty of God’s people. In the West, we call it Holy Communion (sharing and becoming one with God), the Lord’s Supper (in memory of Jesus’ Last Supper with his friends), and sometimes the Mass (the sending of God’s people into the world). Whatever we call it, Eucharist is the center of our worship and life together. 

NARRATOR II:
In the Episcopal Church, our order of service comes from the Book of Common Prayer.  First published in 1549 England based on earlier liturgies, and most recently revised in the U.S. in 1979, the Prayer Book makes us part of a great dialogue of prayer and worship going back to Jesus’ earliest followers.   Much of our Sunday bulletin here at Trinity comes from gender-inclusive updates of the 1979 Prayer Book called Enriching our Worship, approved by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church. 

NARRATOR III: There are two halves to the Eucharist:  what the Prayer Book calls “The Word of God,” and “The Holy Communion.”   The Liturgy of the Word is often called Ante-Communion.  It is the part before the sharing of the Peace midway through our worship.  Holy Communion, also called the Liturgy of the Table or the Great Thanksgiving, is the part that comes after the Peace.

CELEBRANT:
This week in our Instructed Eucharist, we will comment on the Liturgy of the Word.  Next week, we will comment on the Liturgy of the Table.


THE GATHERING

NARRATOR I (from Narthex): 
We enter the Church preparing to worship. The church bell calls people to prayer and worship.  At the door, there is a baptismal font filled with blessed water.  Some of us as we enter, use it to touch our foreheads or make the sign of the cross.  (Narrator II demonstrates) It reminds us that the waters of baptism give us entry to the Church, just as the Waters of the Red Sea put the Children of Israel on their way to the Promised Land.   Some give a slight bow to the altar (Narrator III demonstrates) as they cross the center aisle to go the pews, a sign of reverence for God being made manifest to us in this holy meal.

NARRATOR II (from Narthex):
We keep silence and use the time to prepare, meditate, and pray.  Many use the prayer before communion found on page 832 of the Prayer Book:

ALL THREE NARRATORS TOGETHER:   

Be Present, be present, O Jesus, our great High Priest, as you were present with your disciples, and be known to us in the breaking of bread; who live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and forever, Amen. 

[[MUSICIAN (from lectern): 
The first act of our worship is the gathering of the people at prayer. The word “church” means “assembly” or “gathering.”  Prelude music gathers our hearts and our minds, followed by the opening hymn.  The choir processes in, and then the ministers of the service.  Processions remind us that the people of God, through time and history, are moving toward God's Kingdom – following the Cross of Christ – and bringing the Light of the Gospel to the whole world.]]

NARRATOR I (from Narthex): We bring to our worship our whole being. We pray not just with words, but with all our being, all our senses. We pray silently and out loud; [[we pray through speech, and through music.]] We pray with our bodies as able through our postures of standing for praise, sitting to listen, and kneeling to pray.  

NARRATOR II: We pray by sight through visual symbols and colors.  We pray with our sense of smell through the scent of candles, altar flowers and greens, and occasionally incense.  We pray with taste through the bread and wine we share.

NARRATOR III:   We begin by standing as a sign of attentiveness, [[prepared to sing]].   Our attention should follow the Cross as it enters and proceeds to the altar.  Many people turn and follow facing the Cross as it processes.  It is customary to give a slight bow to the Cross as it passes us, a sign of our thankfulness for Christ’s redeeming work.  And so let us gather [[as we sing]]…

[[OPENING HYMN &]] PROCESSION (including narrators)

NARRATOR I (from lectern):   The Gathering includes an opening acclamation, the collect or prayer for purity, and then a Song of Praise like “Glory to God in the Highest.”   Then the opening prayer assigned for that day is said.  A short prayer like this is called a Collect because it collects our thoughts and desires.

OPENING ACCLAMATION, COLLECT FOR PURITY, SONG OF PRAISE, & COLLECT OF THE DAY

ALTAR GUILD DIRECTOR (from pulpit): The clergy, acolytes and choir members wear vestments. In the Episcopal Church, there are no such things as “robes.” Rather, all of the vestments have names.   Vestments remind us that our worship is not just here in this place and time, but part of a great current of faith and prayer.   The Church is embodied in specific groups of people, but belongs to no single time or place.  It is universal as well as local.  Vestments remind us that we are part of this larger current.

We have different colors that mark each season of the year.   We are using green today because we are in Ordinary Time between Pentecost and Advent. 

The Altar Guild prepares all of the things needed at God’s Table: the bread and the wine, as well as chalices or cups and the plates or patens to hold them.   The Altar Guild does a myriad of other tasks, including preparing the linens and vestments. And, by the way, we can always use new members of the Altar Guild, both women and men.



THE LITURGY OF THE WORD 

NARRATOR I (from lectern):  Next we hear lessons from the Bible.  Before the time of Jesus, before the time of Moses, before the Bible, before written words, the people of God sat around the campfire, shared a meal, and they told The Story – how God saved their ancestors and brought them out of crisis and calamity and saved them, bringing them into new life. What we do next is an echo of that very ancient human act – we are sitting around the campfire – the candlesticks – and we are about to share a meal, our Eucharist, and hear the ancient story of our ancestors and how God saved them. Those stories were recorded by the Jewish people in what we now call the Bible, or Holy Scriptures. The word “Bible” comes from the Greek word that means “the little books.”   They are not so much the words dictated by God as they are the field notes of God’s people. 

NARRATOR II (from pulpit): We will hear four passages from the Bible, assigned for each Sunday in a three-year rotating cycle called the “Revised Common Lectionary.” We hear the same texts as heard in other churches—Episcopal, Lutheran, Methodist, Roman Catholic and others.  This is part of our connection with those other people in other places. We are currently in the third year of the cycle – “Year C.”

NARRATOR III (from pulpit):  First we will hear a reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, what Christians often call the “Old Testament.” Then we hear a psalm, sometimes helping to recite it.   We then hear from one of the New Testament letters. The New Testament was written in Greek, which was the common language of the Roman Empire of the time. 

At the end of each lesson, the prayer book has the reader declare: “The Word of the Lord. ”  By saying “word” we do not mean that God wrote the words, but that God can speak to us through these stories and texts.   Another common ending for the lesson is “Hear what the Spirit is saying to the churches” –a phrase taken from the Revelation of John, the last book in the Bible. Our reply is “Thanks be to God.”   The fourth lesson is always from a Gospel. 

THE HEBREW SCRIPTURE, PSALM, AND EPISTLE LESSONS (from lectern)

DEACON (from pulpit): The gospel is a Greek word meaning “good news” and that is the title given to the first four books of the New Testament – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, stories of the life of Jesus. The Gospel lesson is always read by a member of the clergy, as a sign of the Gospel’s special place for us in our scriptures.  It is a Deacon’s special task to read the Gospel among the people.  On special occasions, the Gospel may be sung or chanted.

On most Sundays, there is a Gospel procession into the center of the congregation, signifying that the Gospel is at the center of our life as a faith community. The Gospel Procession is led by the Cross and candles.  For Eucharists, it is appropriate for us to stand up and turn to face the Gospel book and reader as a sign of attentiveness.

GOSPEL PROCESSION

DEACON (from among the people):  This procession echoes the Jewish practice of carrying the Torah – the scrolls containing God’s Law – into the congregation.  It also reminds us that we are to carry the Good News of Jesus Christ into all the world.

Making the Sign of the Cross with your thumb on the forehead, mouth and chest at this time asks God’s blessing “in my mind, on my lips, and in my heart.” This way of making the sign of the cross is one of the earliest known symbols of the Church, dating from the Second Century.

THE GOSPEL READING AND RECESSION

CELEBRANT
(from pulpit):  At this point in the service, we usually hear a homily, or short reflection on the scriptura; passages, or a longer sermon.   The preacher is to make the lively word of God accessible and understandable to the people, proclaim God’s love and forgiveness, and stir up the people to repentance and amendment of life.  A good preacher comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. 

Following the homily, we take a few moments of silence to reflect. Then we respond to the Word of God by reciting together the Nicene Creed, a fourth century statement of the Church's Trinitarian belief in God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Originally a loyalty oath for bishops, it has since evolved into a symbol of our shared faith in the larger universal Church, what the Creed calls katholikos, “according to the whole,” or catholic (with a small c). 

NARRATOR I (from lectern):  The Creed expresses thus the faith of the whole Church in all times and places.  Bishop John Shelby Spong once said that when he recites the Creed, he always finds objections and, but when he sings it, he believes it with all his heart.  Although the meaning of some of the phrases may not be clear to you, think of the Creed as a prayer or a song that you share with all Christians in all times and places.

NARRATOR II (from pulpit):  Here at Trinity, we recite the Creed according to its original text in the Fourth Century, rather than the slightly expanded form that later became popular in the Western Church.   We thus say simply that the Holy Spirit “proceeds from the Father.”  This is approved by the Episcopal Church and is a way of showing our solidarity with Christians of all traditions, both Eastern and Western.

NARRATOR III (from pulpit): Some people make the sign of the cross at the end of the creed to remind us that at our baptism we were signed with the sign of the cross and made Christ's own forever. Such acts of reverence are ways in which we show outwardly what we believe inwardly.

RECITE THE NICENE CREED

INTERCESSOR (from where Prayers of People are read): We now further respond to the Gospel by offering prayer, for Christ's Church and for the world. Together, we pray for the Church, for ourselves, and for the departed.  These prayers are called “Prayers of the People” because they represent our deepest longings as God’s people at prayer. In them, we intercede, or pray for others. 

THE PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE

DEACON (from pulpit): Now we ask God's forgiveness for the wrongs we have done, both individually and collectively. Confession is an important part of prayer whether we do it privately or in church with others. After the confession is announced, there is a time of silence for private, silent individual confession. Then we recite together the words of confession. Please notice that our confession of sin is not just about individual failings and shortcomings.  It also includes the evil done on our behalf, and the evil that we commit in our institutions and corporate life.  We kneel, as able, for confession as a sign of humility.  After confession, the Priest says the words of ABSOLUTION, or forgiveness, assuring us that God has forgiven all of us.

CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION (at gradus)

CELEBRANT (from gradus): The first part of the service is now completed. We greet one another joyfully in the spirit of friendship and reconciliation and in the love of God, exchanging the PEACE with one another. It is way for us to heal from our grudges and wounds before coming to the table of Communion.  The “passing of the peace” is a very ancient way for people to greet one another. Jesus taught us that we should love one another as sisters and brothers. The apostle Paul taught that we should forgive one another as God forgives us before we come to the table to share in the bread of Communion.

THE PEACE

END PART ONE OF INSTRUCTED EUCHARIST






SECOND WEEK:  


PART TWO -- THE HOLY COMMUNION

Before the Service Begins (from the Narthex)

CELEBRANT:
Last week and today here at Trinity, we are doing something out of the ordinary.   In our worship services, called “the liturgy,” we are going to pause and explain what we are doing and why we do it the way we do it.  The word “liturgy” means “the people’s work” or duty, so please consider this teaching exercise as the work we will all be doing together.   Because this instruction takes time, we are not having lectionary homilies either Sunday.  We are going to give you a quick tour of the liturgy, pausing at key moments to explain.   There will be a short question time after the service in the Parish Hall. 

Last week, we gave commentary on the first part of the liturgy, the part before the Passing of the Peace.  We saw that this is the ante-communion, the Liturgy of the Word.  We talked about preparing for worship, and some of the small acts of devotion we use to set apart our time here as holy.  The Liturgy of the Word included the Gathering, the Reading of Scripture, the homily or sermon, Prayers of the People, and Confession of Sin and absolution. 

Today, our comments will be on the second part, the Liturgy of the Table itself.  Our narrators will begin their commentary after the Passing of the Peace. 

THE ANTECOMMUNION THROUGH THE PASSING OF THE PEACE

At the end of the Peace, before the Offertory: 

NARRATOR I (from pulpit): We now begin the second part of the Eucharist, Holy Communion itself, or the Liturgy of the Table.   There are four parts to this:  We first offer to God money for the Church’s ministries, food for the poor, and the bread and wine we will use at Communion.   We then together offer a prayer of thanksgiving and consecration of the bread and the wine.   After this, we break the bread.   Finally, we share in the bread and wine.

The Great Thanksgiving begins with the offertory sentence that bids us to remember that all our possessions are really gifts we have from God.  We pass alms basins to collect the fruit of our labors as an expression of thanks.  We do this now rather than at some other point of the service because offering our gifts back to God is a key part of our Great Thanksgiving. The Music ministers give their own offering, one of art, to God at this time as well, the Offertory Anthem. 



NARRATOR II (from lectern):   During the Offertory, the deacon “sets the table” by laying first a corporal, a white linen cloth serving as a placemat, upon which are placed a chalice, a cup for the wine, and a paten, a plate for the bread. The purpose of the corporal is to hold any crumbs that may come from the bread, since they are considered sacred once the bread is consecrated.  Next, wine is poured into the chalice and a little water is added. Adding a little water to the wine was a sign of hospitality in the Middle East in the time of Jesus, increasing the wine’s flavor and thirst-quenching power.  It later was taken as a symbol for the mixture of divine and human elements in the person of Jesus. 

THE OFFERTORY SENTENCE; OFFERTORY, SETTING THE TABLE  

DEACON (from pulpit): In the early days of the Church, worshippers brought their own bread and wine to the service. The deacons chose what was needed for the consecration, and the rest was set aside for the poor. Today we have lay people who bring the bread and the wine to the altar along with the other gifts of the people. The bread and the wine, along with the money collected for the work of the church, are the offerings that will be presented to God.

The bread and wine are called oblations, or things offered up.  As the gifts are offered to God, we often express our offering in a responsive phrase such as “All things come from you, O God, and of your own have we given you,” or by singing the Doxology, “Praise God from whom all blessing flow.”    Recognizing that all blessings come from God and that we owe God our thankful gifts in return, is the basis of Christian Stewardship. 

THE OBLATION AND DOXOLOGY

DEACON (from pulpit): Before the priest begins speaking the Eucharistic prayer, it is the custom in many churches for the acolyte to pour a little water over the priest’s hands.  In the early church, offerings included farm produce and animals, so it was important to wash the priest’s hands after handling the offerings.   The receptacle for this purpose is called a “lavabo bowl.” “Lavabo” means “I will wash” in Latin.  This reminds us that we should all come to God's altar with clean hands and pure hearts. It has long been the custom for the head of the Jewish household to wash his or her hands in a similar way before the prayers at the Passover meal. Jesus probably did this at the Last Supper.

ACOLYTE POURS WATER

CELEBRANT (from altar): The Priest is now ready to say the GREAT THANKSGIVING or the PRAYER OF CONSECRATION.  The prayer follows an ancient format preserved in the writings of Hippolytus of Rome from the Second Century.   It is based on the accounts of the Last Supper found in the Gospel of Luke and the letters of Paul.  The Prayer Book provides several versions of the Prayer:  Prayer A follows traditional Anglican forms and emphasizes the Cross, Prayer B follows Hippolytus closely, Prayer C uses modern images and cosmology in a responsorial prayer shared by priest and people, and Prayer D follows the ethereal and delicate Eastern liturgy of St. Basil the Great in the 4th Century.  Enriching our Worship’s Prayers 1, 2, and 3 are all modern theology and gender inclusive language adaptations of Hippolytus.  The people begin the prayer standing, since it is they acting through the priest who consecrate the gifts. 
NARRATOR I (from lectern): In the Eucharistic Prayer, we remember and make present the ancient story of God’s saving acts of old.    Anamnesis is the Greek word that describes remembering and bringing things to mind to make them real and present for us.  We remember the story of the people of God and make it our own story.

NARRATOR II (from pulpit):  We give thanks and praise in response to our anamnesis.  This thanks leads us to offer our gifts to God by lifting them up, oblation.    We tell the story of the Last Supper, our Christian Passover, in a narrative including Christ’s words of institution calling us to meet and remember him by this means.  We also call upon God in an epiclesis, or invocation, asking for God to pour out the spirit to make bread and wine we offer holy, the Body and Blood of Christ present for us, and to make us holy as well.  In the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving, we remember, we give thanks, and we offer gifts in return, calling upon God to accept the gifts, send the spirit, and make us and the gifts holy. 

NARRATOR III (from pulpit):  We celebrate this holy meal at what we call the Holy Table, also called the Altar since on it we offer these gifts made holy and dedicated to God as a sacrifice.   Often the priest will ask us for special intentions for prayers to accompany our offering.  The Eucharist begins with the “Lift up your heart” opening dialogue– the “Sursum Corda.” The words follow the format of an ancient Jewish table blessing.

NARRATOR I (from lectern): The Eucharistic prayer’s thanks is expressed with ancient songs of praise and blessing: the Sanctus, the ancient hymn: “Holy, Holy, Holy,” followed by the Benedictus: “Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord...” reminding us that our God does come to us in the Holy Communion, and is made known to us in “the breaking of the bread.”  After the Sanctus and Benedictus, many people remain standing for the rest of the prayer, since they are celebrating it along with the priest.  Tradition has been also to kneel after the Sanctus and Benedictus, as a sign of reverence for the real presence of God in the bread and wine blessed with Christ’s own words, “This is my body, this my blood.” 

NARRATOR II (from pulpit): In the Eucharistic prayer, we retell the story of the Last Supper. We remember Jesus’ last meal with his friends and the words he spoke over the bread and the wine before his arrest, torture, and death on the cross.   Once we have remembered the ancient story as our story, we offer up our gifts of bread and wine as well as ourselves and our lives to God.  Our act of offering prepares us to invoke the presence of the Holy Spirit, asking that both the bread and wine, and that we ourselves, be made holy.

NARRATOR III (from pulpit): Once the invocation has taken place, the people of God finish the Prayer together.   We say the Great Amen—that final “So say we all,” “and so it is” that we say together as the priest holds up the bread and wine.  This AMEN, printed in all capital letters in The Book of Common Prayer, is where we all make this common prayer our own. It is not some magic in the priest’s hands that make this meal we share holy; it is our coming together as a family to affirm the thanking, remembering, offering and invoking with a resounding AMEN that makes our bread and wine, and us too, something more than before. Our prayer is completed when we recite together the Lord’s Prayer.  Then the priest breaks the bread, and we sing or recite a short song for the breaking of the bread, of fraction anthem. 

SURSUM CORDA, SANCTUS AND BENEDICTUS
THE PRAYER OF CONSECRATION
THE LORD'S PRAYER
THE FRACTION
THE INVITATION



DEACON (from pulpit): The gifts we gave at the offertory, the bread and the wine, are now returned to us. Because God has accepted these gifts, they are changed. They are for us the Body and Blood of Christ: they become for us love, grace and strength.

NARRATOR I (from lectern): You may have been receiving Communion your whole life, or this is new to you. So let me remind you again how to receive the Bread and the Wine of Communion. For the bread, cup your hands and hold them up chest high so that the priest can easily place the bread on the palm of your hand.  If you need to have gluten free bread, place your palms down.  You may then consume the bread.  If you wish to receive the chalice, please guide it to your lips by holding the bottom of the cup – and not the top.  If you wish to dip the bread in the wine, have the server take it for you, intinct, and them place it in your mouth.  If you do not wish to receive the bread, cross your arms over your chest and the priest will bless you.  If you do not want to receive the wine, also cross your arms and the chalice bearer will say a prayer for you.   When you receive the Bread and the Wine, it is appropriate to say “AMEN.”

Some churches also offer prayers for healing during the time of communion in a chapel or side transept. Those offering these prayers will make the sign of the cross on your forehead with oil that has been blessed by our bishop. The oil for healing is another sign of the communion we share together not only in this parish, but throughout our diocese and the world.

THE COMMUNION OF THE PEOPLE

ALTAR GUILD (from pulpit): After everyone has received Communion, the vessels are reverently cleansed, and after the service any remaining consecrated Bread and Wine are reverently removed to the sacristy where the chalice and paten cleaned and put away. Unused wine is poured into the ground outside. In some churches there is a special basin, called a “piscina,” which allows the consecrated wine to go directly into the ground. Some of the consecrated Bread and Wine is reserved for the sick and those who are unable to come to church. It is kept in the Aumbry, or tabernacle, marked by the ever-burning “presence lamp.”

DEACON (from gradus):  We share the Eucharist also with sick and shut-in members of the Congregation.   Since they cannot come to Church, we take Church to them. And please let us know when circumstances are such that you would like us to bring communion to you. The deacon organizes this ministry, and so leads the congregation in sending out the Eucharistic visitors. 

SENDING OUT OF EUCHARISTIC VISITORS


NARRATOR I (from pulpit): It is almost time for us to go, but before we end, we remember to say together a prayer of thanksgiving for our Great Thanksgiving.   After this post-communion prayer, the priest leads in community announcements, celebrations, and prayers, and then will give us all God’s blessing.  Some congregations do these community events after the Peace, but at Trinity we keep them for the end to maintain a smooth flow of the worship without a big break in the middle between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Table. 

THE POST COMMUNION PRAYER. ANNOUNCEMENTS ETC. & BLESSING

[[MUSICIAN]] (from pulpit): We now prepare leave. The procession leads us out into the world around us so that we may do the work that God has called us to do, wherever we may be: in our homes, in our schools, in our work and in our play. We have been fed with spiritual Food. God has given us the strength to live our lives as faithful followers of Christ.

THE PROCESSIONAL OUT

DEACON (from Narthex): We conclude the Eucharist where we began, in the midst of life, in a world where there is suffering and need.  But in these liturgies of the Word and of the Table we have been centered.  We come to the Lord’s Table, as Prayer C says, not for solace only, but for strength, not for pardon only, but for renewal.  This sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ is also a sharing in the risen life of Christ, and that sharing must go with us as we go back into the world.  The Eucharist is the work of the people of God together. It is not a service confined to Sunday morning. Rather, it is a way of life. It is the essence of life itself.

The word “mass” comes from the Latin word for dismissal. We are not allowed to linger; we are called to get back out into the world and do the work we are given to do.

CELEBRANT (from Narthex): Finally, the Deacon will send us forth to do the work that God has called us to do, and we all respond by saying with gusto: “Thanks be to God.”

THE DISMISSAL