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Sunday, October 17, 2010

The Barb of the Nazarene

Hooks of love caught the world (i am)

from the heights above (breaks barriers of hate),

while feeding the fishy souls (and men);

catches and releases (drawn to his wounds)

from the barb of the Nazarene (live again).

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Lost in Wonder, Love, and Praise: the Liturgy of the Lamb


The Church of the Advent, Photo by Br. Ciaran Anthony DellaFera, BSG

Turning the corner past Boston's famous bar, Cheer's, I could hear the English Change Ringing bells tolling down the avenue.  In a methodical count, the peal sang out into the crisp air, bouncing off the otherwise silent brahmin neighborhood.  The day could not have better, clear skies with a light breeze.  Boston Common was already spilling over with tourists, runners, and the like.  Sunday was prime time for Bostonians to be out and about.

The spire from one of the gem's of The Episcopal Church began to come in focus, and my pilgrimage was nearing its climax.  And there it was, on the corner of Brimmer Street in the posh company of Beacon Hill, sits The Church of the Advent.  I arrived with ample time for exploration before Solemn High Mass was to commence at 11:15 a.m.  My heart was racing.

Now it goes without saying that every pilgrim erects a construct of expectations--whether spoken or not--of how the people and place will receive the hungry.  I must admit that I had a few in mind that Sunday morning, and upon my own discovery, were proven to be unfounded.  The prevalent stereotype of "spikery" in Anglo-Catholicism was at the forefront of my mind en route to mass that morning.  

Opening the door to the sanctuary was a bit otherworldly--the incense from the previous mass was thick in the air and I had an immediate, striking sense of the Divine.  I could smell it.  The twenty-five or so choristers were practicing a beautiful setting of the Kyrie, and the mixture of male and female voices struck a deep impression right at the threshold.  Inside, I grabbed a choice seat with a good view of the altar so that I could soak up all that I was about to encounter.  I sat and surveyed the interior beauty of this gem.  The sunlight that morning was piercing the clerestory windows, amplifying the smokey vaults of the ceiling.  This was going to be something unlike any ordinary Rite II liturgy.

I discovered a pleasant, harmonious blending of Rite I from the 1979 Book of Common Prayer along with what could only be described as Sarum additions.  I got a kick from seeing pasted inserts on the inside back cover of the Book of Common Prayer revealing several of the additional texts.  Underneath the Hymnal was a card with the Angelus and antiphons to the Blessed Virgin Mary printed on both sides.   The hymnody came from The Hymnal, 1982 and was juxtaposed with mass settings in Latin and Greek--the Kyrie, Gloria, etc.  The Gospel was chanted, we genuflected at the appropriate place in the Nicene Creed, and we all said the Angelus following the liturgy complete with the ringing of the Angelus bell.

Ceremonial aside, what I feeling inside was simply exciting.  The power of liturgy to transport you both out-of-time and in-time was not only made possible during the mass but was actually experienced, as evidenced by my goose-bumps.  This was a feeling I have not felt for some time.  One of the unintended consequences of liturgical training in seminary is that you tend to have a harder time worshipping in the broader church--one has to work extra hard to suppress feelings about liturgical mishaps and the like.

Following mass, I wondered about the sanctuary still reeling from the heavenly banquet but wanting somehow to capture that same feeling through photographs.  There were several shrines about the place, but one in particular just sang out, Christ the Great High Priest.

There he was, crowned and adorned in the priestly chasuable with hands outstretched to me.  "I love you," he says, "come to me and I will refresh you."  The hands beckoned a hungry, hurting world to take Christ's burden of love and justice, of true freedom in eternal life.  The eyes were piercing the holiness around me, drawing me into an intimate space of Christ's presence transcending the temporal.  Never before have I felt that way before a shrine, not even Walsingham herself I dare say.

Reentering the atmosphere, I climbed down the stairs for coffee hour and found myself making new friends over a glass of sherry in the garden.  Ah.  This was my kind of parish.  I say that I was lost, off in wonder, love, and praise;  its more likely that I discovered that I was found to be in a place where the liturgy of the Lamb draws both the familiar and the odd together, making new creation.  What a treat for a Sunday.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

On the Mission of the Church


"Mission is putting love where love is not."
St. John of the Cross

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Documentary: The Saint of 9/11

Fr. Mychal Judge, OFM (1933-2001)

The Order of Saint Anthony the Great is exploring the life and witness of Mychal Judge, the New York Fire Department Chaplain who died at the World Trade Center on September 11th.  A Franciscan and a priest, Mychal's life was filled with joy, pain, love, and self-giving. 

One of Father Mychal's favorite prayer's sums up his theology:

Lord, take me where you want me to go;
Let me meet who you want me to meet;
Tell me what you want me to say
And keep me out of your way.

The documentary film, The Saint of 9/11, captures both the eternal joy and love of the friar along with inner turmoil that so often accompanies holy people.  Click on the title of the film to watch it, it's worth your time.