New Goal

Ok my lovely ones. In response to the shallow depth of much liturgical education, I'm going to make it my personal mission to blog what I'm learning about the liturgy. If you don't care, you're crazy, but I love you anyway and you don't have to read this.

i should add that while some of that blogging will come in the form of prose discussion, it will also come via poetry, stories, songs, pictures, movies, and whatever else happens to pop into the conversation.

Let's start thinking about why this worship thing actually MATTERS.

love,
A

Broken the Body

Today was high Eucharist, a personal favorite of mine for all kinds of reasons. Chief among them is not actually the liturgy (I know you're surprised), but realizing that the person celebrating (presiding) and I probably have a more similar understanding of the sacrament than most of the people I normally receive from. I'm a Methodist, that means we affirm the mystery of real presence. But there is enough emphasis on the it NOT BEING transubstantiation that most pastors seem to have a painfully memorial and Zwinglian understanding of what's going on. Yikes.

See I know it's efficacious no matter the priest- thank you Cyprian. But when it's 'high' Eucharist (typically Anglican/Episcopal or Catholic) I know that the person presiding probably believes that this bread and this wine conveys the grace specific to our Lord's body and blood. Dad swears I'm still a Methodist because I affirm 'mystery' about HOW Christ is present (though I have suspicions). But it's definitely not JUST a symbol. And I love the days when other people treat it like more than Welch's and Hawaiian. This is my Lord's broken body, into which, unworthy as I am, I enter for my salvation.

Today the body was more broken than usual. I didn't receive today, because my good friend, Mike Boone couldn't receive. Because the body (already broken) has begun to fracture yet again. This will be one of two times this week (if I make it to Mass) that I won't be partaking in the host. At Mass i simply can't, I'm not in communion. But I didn't today because my friend could not. And it broke my heart.

I'm not going to comment on the rightness or wrongness of the reformation. That would be silly coming from a protestant twice removed. And I really dont want to comment on the divisions within the Anglican communion (although I'm warning you ACNA: the Methodists did the same thing two hundred years ago, and I'm unconvinced that it was a helpful move even counting the American Revolution).

All I want to ask is why we keep tearing the body apart? As I watched the celebrant fracture the host today, I just couldnt help but wonder why we do this to ourselves?

It made my heart hurt a lot. That may be the only helpful thing to say is that it breaks my heart.

love,
A

Oldie But Goodie

I dusted off the wonderful "Thoughts in Solitude" today. I swear, every time I read this, it makes more sense--

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
-Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude

Love,
A

For A Time Such as This...

It's been a strange few months for me. And I am left in a place where the way ahead of me seems unsure- murky, to be optimistic. The pastor at my church in Durham (the church where I sing in the choir and attend early service), preached on Esther today- suggesting that if we as a congregation prayed more, and put more faith in humble genuine prayers we would discover what God had planned for us. He closed by saying that whatever question we felt we were struggling with, perhaps God called us here for, "such a time as this." (That's what Mordechai told Esther about her intervention with the King and Haman). I don't disagree with the content of his sermon- not at all, he's totally right about prayer and humility. But I left in greater confusion and downright consternation than I came (surprise, surprise). See, I have been praying- I'm not terribly humble so maybe that's my problem- but the way forward remains, well, blank. Which ever way I go, God goes with me, but the choice remains: what way to turn?

Enter Duke Chapel. Now let me up FRONT say that Duke Chapel's worship service is not the only way to worship. Hear me people, I love it, but it's not the only way to worship. There are lots of good liturgical services, in a plethora of places, presided over by a multitude of wonderful people. Honestly, were it closer, I'd have gone to Church of the Good Shepherd in Raleigh. But none the less Duke Chapel is close and exceedingly liturgical and I went there.

I was reminded though (apart from all the intellectual reasons and philosophical theories) why the liturgy retains such importance. It's been a while since I entered the church with so much going on in my head and heart. Really, not since I was at CGS during my junior year of college. Again today, as I snuck in the side door I was confined to that tiny space of fear and anxiety between my my ears. I don't know if anybody I know was there, or where they might have been sitting. The world in front of my eyes may as well have vanished. Popular evangelicals would classify this state as "broken," and on this rare occasion, I agree with them.

Liturgy should be loved for a lot of reasons. Selfishly, I loved it today because it raised the cross, lighting the path ahead of me for just one hour. In the midst of my chaos, there was a simple measure of sureness. All the sureness I needed to long once again for the overwhelming, terrifying, magnificent but totally unexpected God I spend my life day in and day out courting. When the world around my crumbles, the uncertainty of God seems too much to be borne. In the liturgy of the Word- in its gestures, silences, and songs-there remains a sure footing from which to launch myself back into the ever moving and changing tide of grace.

The simple gesture of bowing to the cross unlocked the tiny cell in my head. The hymn wasn't simply pretty singing, the gestures and crossing again offered some of their long "unfelt" meaning. As my body moved along with the choreography of the liturgy my mind and heart were left with no choice but following. When it seemed (and has long seemed) as if my prayers reached no higher than my own head, someone helped me pray. I felt like a child first learning cursive, with my mom's hand bearing over mine tracing out the letters.

In the midst of my chaos, there was confession. I found pardon.
I reached the end of my own words, and the Word issued forth.
With no sure path, I found the words of doxology on my lips. ... praise God from whom all blessings flow... praise God all creatures here below, praise God above ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Because of the liturgy, God, the wonderful and terrible possibility, reigned. It admitted the mysterious unknown quantity God should always be. All of the uncertainty could be faced again- even this wholly uncertain future.

And I realized, that the LITURGY, not I, exist for such a time as this. In the midst chaos- with fear knocking at the doors of all our hearts- with the future uncertain- with all the icons falling down around our ears- when the reason of law and governments fail miserably- the liturgy remains. It reminds us that God sweeps across the dark waters and quells our fear with Love. By word and deed the liturgy reminds us of a certain future and sets us about the work of Justice that rolls down and cannot be stopped. "It is not here because of us, we have come because of it." (Everything is Illuminated) For such a time as this, even this, there is the liturgy.

Love and Hugs,
A

Submission Calmly Considered... well, Considered

It happened again earlier this week. This is not he first time it's been brought to my attention. But every time it is, my skin crawls- and not even because I'm a little more 'liberal' than some. It makes my skin crawl because I'm uncomfortable. The conversation before hand usually runs something like this...

Other person: "Wow- that's awesome- you want to be a pastor. Good for you."
Me: "Well, I don't know about awesome. I'm not a superhero or anything. But I'm looking forward to it."
Other person: "So do you still want to get married?"
Me: (groaning inwardly and trying to dodge the coming question) "Hah- well no prospects right now but who knows maybe one day!"
Other person: (hardly deterred): "Well yeah, but I mean, if you're a pastor how can you get married? Because if you're the pastor then you'll have to be the spiritual head. Are you still going to submit to your husband?"
Me: "Oh wait, you mean I'm a woman? Well crap that changes everything."

No, not really. By that time I'm usually really groaning (inwardly at least). First because that's an extremely personal question to ask somebody you don't really know well. Second, it's because I have no idea how to answer such a question. I feel more comfortable with Dr. Rowe's giant open-ended theologically laden Johanine inquisitions than this question.

Spiritual head- what does that even MEAN? I honestly get this really funny mental image of me (very serious of course), cassock and chausible clad handing down imperial and theological dictums from a very raised ornate pulpit. Hysterical. As much as I'd love to be Queen Elizabeth I reincarnated... yeah right. Beyond that the only thing I can come up with is being somehow "closer to Jesus" but you can't base that on gender anyway. So first- I can't answer to being a spiritual head because I'm not entirely sure what that even IS. And I haven't found anybody who can actually define it without saying, "you know- like the head." Not helpful.

But the second part is really the most problematic for me. The submission. Umph. Ouch. Submit, will I submit? First response, "hell no, have you ever met me? Do you have any idea how obstinate and headstrong and just generally scary I get when ordered about?" But, luckily an interior filter and common courtesy tend to shut that visceral response down pretty quickly. Which is a good thing. By now I've muttered something about Galatians, slid something about Christ's love of the church and exegeting the hastafeln (sp...) from Ephesians, and changed the subject...

And then I'm stuck, pondering the question until I can get it out of my mind with some more pressing issue...

The first consideration is that if I did ever get married it would hopefully not be to someone with a Napoleon Complex who ordered me around. I mean honestly- after a vetting process you pretty much end a relationship that involves acting in such a manner. Nor could I see myself marrying a completely theologically unreflective person, so that debunks the "closer to Jesus" issue. Which, again, that's just unmeasurable ANYWAY, so much more goes into faith beyond theological reflection no matter HOW important it is.

The second consideration, then is Philippians 2. The model for the Christian life is submission. Since my goal is, in fact, to allow the mind of Christ to dwell in me, I am forced into a, "well yes, I will submit because that's how the God of the universe calls me to reveal his glory." But I think it's a different kind and definition of submission than what is assumed in the question, "will you submit."

The overwhelming testimony of the gospel is that glory and submission are one and the same- because Glory is Love and Love necessarily entails "considering others better than yourself." So all of our baptismal dignity shows forth not in some "headship" theory: but in our commitment to 'Love the Lord and neighbor." So any marriage called "Christian" assumes not one person's submission, but two people's love.

And I want to stress that I think this is essentially different than a simply cooperative model of marriage. I think 'co-leaders'sounds crazy for one, but for two that seems to me a secular humanist version of something much deeper, broader, and wider offered to humanity by God, in whom all things hold together. IT's not just about cooperation, marriage (the actual sacrament) is about transformation. It's not cooperative, it's co-submissive. It's the opportunity for two people to be transformed by the renewing of minds, hearts, and spirits by loving one another... hmm as Christ loves the Church. Is it possible that "submit" and "love as Christ loves" mean... the exact same thing? Maybe it's not even a both/and but a one-and-the-same.

And let me add that the really cool thing is- single people get to play too! And not just in an "i'm dating Jesus" kind of way! Because it's not a question of gender anymore- it's a question of discipleship. As the beloved J.Cam would say- "will you submit to your husband" is by far the wrong question. Better question, "are you submitting to the God of the universe."

So I guess the answer is same answer from my baptism, "Yes, with God's help"

Grace and hugs y'all,
A

Provoking the Dark

Read this last night or this morning (i'm not sure which it was at that point). I really like the language. And of course, watching (reading) a storm from one mountain to another at night cant be argued with. On the list of a hundred and one things to do before you die, I would put this in the top thirty. Well, I say that pretty unreflectively of any actual list. But if there were a list, top forty for SURE.

"That night they camped on a ledge of rock above the plains and watched the lightening all along the horizon provoke from the seamless dark the distant mountain ranges again and again."
-All the Pretty Horses

..."provoke from the seamless dark" ... how beautiful.


love and grace and hugs,
A

Good Poem

Evening all!

My parents bought me a new book of poems over the summer, "Good Poems for Hard Times" -edited by Garrison Keillor, and I'm just now really getting around to it. But I was reading for a while this afternoon and came across this. I love it- we talk so much about community and about living together but in the end, I'm not sure we really learn to see each other for what we were, who we are, and what we yet may be. Not that I think everybody has to be a monk to get it- but when you're THAT close, I think you're just forced to see a bit clearer. It's like a marriage: only to the whole church. The warts and humanity really come out. You see the real flesh. There is only so much hiding one can do living day in and day out. But all the same, that kind of living produces love that changes. It's the kind of love that doesn't have to romanticize, but sees in truth. There is no room for platitudes, because they are exposed as lie. It's the kind of love that admits reality, but only because reality is bounded by Alpha and Omega- and the reality is that worship and praise to God makes us all holy, warts and all.
Thanks be to God!!

Enjoy!!


The Monks of St. John's File in for Prayer
Kilian McDonnell

In we shuffle, hooded amplitudes,
scapulared brooms, a stray earring, skin heads
and flowing locks, blind in one eye,
hooked-nosed, handsome as a prince
(and knows it), a five thumbed organist,
an acolyte who sings in quarter tones,
one slightly swollen keeper of the bees,
the carpenter minus a finger here and there,
our pre-senile writing deathless verse,
a stranded sailor, a Cassian scholar,
the artist suffering the visually
illiterate and indignities unnamed,
two determined liturgists. In a word,
eager purity and weary virtue.
Last of all, the Lord Abbot, early old
(shepherding the saints is like herding cats).
These chariots and steeds of Israel
make the black progress into church.
A rumble of monks bows low and offers praise
to the High God of Gods who is faithful forever.


Which one are you?

Grace,
A