And now, O Father, mindful of the love

One of the legacies my father left me was a love of Church hymnody. I grew up singing hymns unaccompanied, in four-part harmony. My dad had a beautiful voice and for many years led the singing and directed the choir in his church. But he didn’t sing only on Sundays. As I remember, he was almost always whistling or humming, or even singing hymns as he worked during the week. In fact, it was one of the things that annoyed me when I was a teenager. He was a carpenter and I grew up spending time with him on the jobsite. As soon as I was big enough, I began working with him. Every summer from junior high through high school, and on into college, the day after school was over, he would wake me up and put me to work.

That was bad enough; but usually from Monday through Friday, as he worked, he would be whistling, or humming, or singing, one of the hymns that had been sung in church on Sunday. And more often than not, it was a catchy tune, with words that seemed to me less than adequate theologically (yes, I became a critic quite early in life). I would get so annoyed by this, that by the middle of the week I would try to think of an alternative, more suitable hymn, and try to outsing him, or at least get him to make a change.

I thought of that today. On Sunday, as we were preparing the altar, Karen played variations on one of my favorite hymns, and then at the 11:00 service, we sang it as one of the communion hymns. It’s a text by William Bright and the title is “And now,O Father, mindful of the love.” The tune is beautiful, but on Sunday I had the opportunity to sing the words and to look closely at them during the service. I especially love the second verse:

Look, Father, look on his anointed face,
and only look on us as found in him;
look not on our misusings of thy grace,
our prayer so languid, and our faith so dim:
for lo, between our sins and their reward
we set the Passion of thy Son our Lord.

Bright’s words evoke the concluding collect of the Good Friday liturgy:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, we pray you to set your passion, cross, and death between your judgment and our souls, now and in the hour of our death. Give mercy and grace to the living; pardon and rest to the dead; to your holy Church peace and concord; and to us sinners everlasting life and glory; for with the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign, one God, now and for ever.

I suspect that for my father singing hymns throughout the week wasn’t just about the music; it was a form of prayer. It is a real gift to my spiritual life and to my journey toward Holy Week, that since Sunday, the tune of that hymn has been going through my mind, becoming my prayer of preparation for this most holy of seasons.

O, Gracious Light

This evening, a small group of us gathered for a service of Contemplative Vespers, organized by Dr. Karen Eshelman. There was a small choir of people who had prepared the chants as the evening shadows lengthened we sang the ancient hymn Phos Hilaron, O Gracious Light. The simple service, with voices chanting unaccompanied by any instruments except the occasional bell was a lovely opportunity to recollect oneself at the end of an exhausting day. The ancient chants allow one to hear the psalms in new ways. It was a service that combined the meditative feel of Lent with something else, a celebration of the Annunciation. March 25 (exactly nine months before December 25) is the date on which the church celebrates the coming of the Angel Gabriel to Mary to tell her that she will give birth to Jesus. In the midst of the penitential season of Lent, and as we begin to look forward to Holy Week, we took time this evening to remember the first sign of Jesus’ coming into the world.

What a joyous luxury it was for me to worship in that way this evening; in a small group, with a simple, profound service, with silence, broken by the sound of bells and unaccompanied voices. Being responsible for the liturgy means that most of the time as I celebrate, or even when I am only assisting, my focus is on the logistics of the service–what comes next, what to do if something goes wrong, and the like.

If you would like to experience something somewhat similar to what took place this evening, you should think about attending the Tenebrae service on Wednesday evening of Holy Week. The chants will be similar, but the service will be quite dramatic as the candles are extinguished in the course of the evening and we will leave the church in darkness.

The Bishops have spoken

Last night, the bishops, meeting at Camp Allen, Texas, released three resolutions in response to the Primates’ Communique. It will take some time to digest the document, but after a quick read, it seems clear that a majority of the bishops have rejected the recommendations put to them. The first resolution affirms their desire to remain in the Anglican communion, states that only General Convention can speak for the Episcopal Church, and urges Executive Council to reject the Primates’ proposal for pastoral oversight. The second resolution very wisely, requests “face time” with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Primates’ Standing Committee. It is indeed odd that the Archbishop of Canterbury has not met with the Bishops or Executive Council since 2003.

The third resolution states something of the Bishops’ reasoning. I will quote from it:

“First, it violates our church law in that it would call for a delegation of primatial authority not permissible under our Canons and a compromise of our autonomy as a Church not permissible under our Constitution.Second, it fundamentally changes the character of the Windsor process and the covenant design process in which we thought all the Anglican Churches were participating together.

Third, it violates our founding principles as The Episcopal Church following our own liberation from colonialism and the beginning of a life independent of the Church of England.

Fourth, it is a very serious departure from our English Reformation heritage. It abandons the generous orthodoxy of our Prayer Book tradition. It sacrifices the emancipation of the laity for the exclusive leadership of high-ranking Bishops. And, for the first time since our separation from the papacy in the 16th century, it replaces the local governance of the Church by its own people with the decisions of a distant and unaccountable group of prelates.

Most important of all it is spiritually unsound. The pastoral scheme encourages one of the worst tendencies of our Western culture, which is to break relationships when we find them difficult instead of doing the hard work necessary to repair them and be instruments of reconciliation. The real cultural phenomenon that threatens the spiritual life of our people, including marriage and family life, is the ease with which we choose to break our relationships and the vows that established them rather than seek the transformative power of the Gospel in them. We cannot accept what would be injurious to this Church and could well lead to its permanent division.”

In the coming days, we will hear more about the resolutions, about the internal discussions that led to the resolutions, and a great deal about the response by all of the parties who make it their business to respond to such things. I will be very interested to hear what Bishop Henderson has to say about all of this. In general, though, I am greatly heartened by the bishops’ stance. They have reaffirmed their desire to remain in the Anglican Communion but they have also expressed themselves unwilling to compromise certain basic principles of our church, including this one: “it sacrifices the emancipation of the laity for the exclusive leadership of high-ranking bishops.” You may read the entire press release here

The Work of the Church

The Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion continue to be in the news and in the blogsphere. Last week, Mark Lawrence did not receive the number of consents required from Diocesan Standing Committees for his consecration as Bishop of South Carolina (“the lower diocese”) to go forward. He needed 57, apparently he fell short by one. This week, the bishops are meeting at Camp Allen in Texas, where they will be discussing their response to the Primates’ communique. Our bishop has made a preliminary statement about that meeting which can be seen here. Meanwhile, there was an article in today’s New York Times about the financial importance of the Episcopal Church to the Anglican Communion. We bankroll approximately 30% of the Anglican Communion’s budget, and of course contribute mightily to relief and development efforts all over the world, including in many places where bishops and primates claim not to be in communion with us. Only one of those provinces refuses to take money from Episcopal Relief and Development. The article is here but you need to register to read it. The authors of the article make clear that in spite of the conflicts within the Anglican Communion, there has been no effort on the part of the Episcopal Church to hold back funding either for Anglican Communion offices or from the very important relief and development work that is taking place.

So the work of the church goes on. There have been scattered reports of African dioceses severing ties with individual dioceses in the American Church, sometimes with devastating results for the programs that have been receiving financial and other support. But it seems to be the case that whatever the politics, the money keeps flowing. The theological consistency and political wisdom of this may yet come under scrutiny.

Last night at St. James, we had a presentation from an employee of “Homes of Hope,” an organization in Greenville that rehabs mobile homes and houses, and builds houses for low-income people. The work is done by men who are slowly putting their lives back together. Most of them are recovering addicts or alcoholics who are receiving vocational training as well as a support system as they turn their lives around. It’s an amazing story and program and I hope that St. James can find a way to participate. For more information, you may speak with our parishioner Gale Garner, who is employed there or access their website here.

Lord, have mercy

Our observance of Lent at St. James brings sin to the forefront of our consciousness. We begin each service with the Penitential Order and in one of our Lenten programs we are studying Dante’s Divine Comedy. Last night in our discussion, we noted that Dante has a very different hierarchy of sins than ours. In our culture, sexual immorality seems to be the most offensive, while for Dante, the lustful were confined to the third of nine circles. Below them suffered (among others) misers and spendthrifts (in the fourth), flatterers (in the eighth), traitors (in the ninth). One of the fun things about reading The Inferno is noticing Dante’s changing attitude toward the suffering he is observing. Initially he sympathizes with the sinners; over time he comes to detest them and even occasionally add to their suffering. As his guide, Vergil tells him “piety lives when pity dies.”

It’s easy for us to say the words of the confession of sin and conclude, from the priest’s absolution, that we are OK. But sin isn’t only about acts we commit; sin is also about who we are. We are fallen human beings in need of God’s grace. This week I saw Little Children, a movie presented by the Upstate Film Society. Among the most deeply moving and disturbing films I’ve seen in quite some time, it is an examination of the emptiness of suburban life, in which lonely people seek meaning in broken relationships. One of the most poignant scenes is of a date between a convicted sex offender and a woman who suffers from mental illness. The two make a profound connection through their brokenness but the date ends in catastrophe. The film depicts raw humanity at its bleakest with no hint of redemption. Sarah, the leading character who sought release from the prison of suburbia through a desperate affair and planned to escape with her lover, in the end abandons her plan and returns to her suburban existence. Her only hope for survival seems to be in the love she shares with her daughter.

One of the great benefits of communal worship is the shared experience of confession, forgiveness, and grace. At the altar, we see ourselves and each other as we are, fallen human beings in need of, and receiving God’s grace. As I’ve reflected about the sinners I read about in The Inferno and in Little Children, and as I reflect on my own existence this Lent, I realize how very little separates me from them. It isn’t the gravity of the sins that sets me apart, but the fact that I ask God’s forgiveness.