I got so engulfed in the book today that I finally noticed I was 5 minutes late getting back to work from noon break. <blush> I love reading, but it's seldom a book captivates me to the point I'm late for work. There were 3 pages that were so full of goodies that I stand with my mouth open and trying not to drool. Amazing. Some I knew; but now know deeper. Some is new information that I will trust God to help me incorporate into liturgy to make it a deeper and more meaningful experience - that hopefully will follow me and become more a part of me during the hours between liturgies.
p. 88 Much of the liturgy for the Mass, filled with its formularies, prayers, and creeds, is well over a thousand years old. I was moved that people were offering up the same words, giving expression to the same truths, in different languages and time zones all around the globe that very day. Some were singing the liturgy in grand cathedrals in Europe, some under a lush canopy of trees in Africa. Some were performing the liturgy in secret house churches in China, and others in prison chapels. Where or how it was said didn't matter. Solidarity mattered.
That is just one part of the Liturgical ancient rituals I like. I feel connected with my grandparents who were raised Roman Catholic, their forefathers and foremothers who worshiped with the same form for probably centuries. I feel connected with my nine grandchildren who are being raised Roman Catholic and thus progeny for centuries may say the same prayers, the same chants, the same blessings. As a single woman and the only one of my bio-family in this country, at Liturgy, I don't feel like a kid peering in a candy-store window wanting to belong; but I belong just because I show up and participate. Our oratory does not reflect those exact sacred spaces depicted in the author's paragraph; but the rhythm of life, the rhythm of worship continues on.
p. 91 My shrink says grieving is like walking in molasses you plow through it one step at a time.
What a wonderful description. It's not just the difficulty and pain of grieving, it's remembering to keep taking one step forward even when I'd rather lay down in the molasses and stay stuck in the sweet, gooey mess. Yes, for me there is a part of me who would like to stay the perpetual victim; but God propels me on and shows me when I think of myself as victim and when I see myself as His child. I can't live in both victim mode and beloved child mode - so I have to pick. As silly as it sounds, when I'm in victim mode, it's hard to pick being the beloved child.
p. 94 Augustine said the human mind was particularly delighted when truth was presented to it indirectly, like in symbols and sacred space. Unfortunately, most churches today are designed without any sense of the iconic because moderns like straightforward, unambiguous communication. We want "worship centers" where hominess is more important than holiness."
I love that a small band of visionaries in my parish came up with a great space when they designed the building. The building is designed to assist in the mission of hospitality and spirituality (as I said, it's Benedictine). I love the oratory with seating in the round where we can see each other and make eye contact. I love the baptismal font at the entry to the oratory as a reminder of the entrance into the Christian walk; eventually it will be redone so babies can have their head baptized and adults can chose to be immersed. I love the bank of windows along the front wall that reminds me that "out there" is my community mission field. It is simple, functional, but has enough symbolism to help me find new depths of worship.
p 94 (the main character, a Protestant pastor, speaking of designing his church with 3000 congregation) I realize that what I had asked for was "lights, camera, action!" rather than "Father, Son and Holy Ghost."
I believe there is a place for technology; but if technology doesn't support tradition and deepen the worship experience, then it's just fluff and an annoyance rather than a blessing.
p 94 (the Protestant pastor speaking) Now we were getting into the spooky stuff. When we started Putnam Hill, we downplayed the Communion thing because is didn't fit into our seeker-sensitive paradigm. We have it once a quarter but it's kind of like eating broccoli--we don't particularly enjoy it but we do it because Mom says it's good for us.
The only pre-Anglican communions that stand out in my mind were the ones in Superior, NE, on New Year's Eve. We'd meet for pot-luck supper, table games, fellowship, a family movie, then have praise and worship and a sermon. Shortly before midnight, each family would take communion together, kneeling as the pastor laid hands on each member (young children were often asleep in their parents arms) and it was often 3 or 4 in the morning before the 2 or 3 dozen families had taken the bread and grape juice and been prayed over. I remember it feeling so very special and intimate and nourishing. Now I feel that deep nourishing intimacy every Sunday and Wednesday when I take the Communion.
p. 95 Church started the moment you got in the car......The liturgy started the moment you started separating yourself from this world so you could join the rest of the body of Christ.
I like that. I wonder if this time of studying and praying about becoming Franciscan is part of liturgy - part of separating to join the rest of the body of Christ in a new way. Yet, I know I'm not called to be a hermit (is that the right word?); so this separating will be for deeper spirituality so I will have more to give when I'm in community - whether that is church community, local community or my ministry community.
p. 95 In the liturgy, every act is a metaphor or symbol. The word liturgy literally means 'the work of the people.' It's an ancient text that helps us reenact the redemption drama. What we're reciting is a compressed version of the redemption story. At the end of it, we can't help but be moved to cry out with all the angels and archangels, "Thanks be to God!" and give our lives to the God who gave his life for us.
Nodding my head in agreement. It's so beautiful and meaningful to me that I can't denigrate that experience by words.
p. 95 (the older priest speaking to the Protestant pastor) The word Eucharist means 'thanksgiving.' it's that moment in the 'work of the people' when we partake of the divine life and experience the presence of Christ in a way that can be particularly intense. .... Jesus draws very near at the Eucharist, and that can be unnerving. But think of it as a homecoming celebration. In the Eucharist, we're united with God, all the saints, the earth that gave us the bread and wine, and with the whole universe! The Eucharist is the sacrament of love and joy. (the old priest speaking of his laying prostrate on the floor before the alter during the Eucharist) Sometimes God meets me in it in a way that I can't explain.
Nodding my head in agreement. During Eucharist, I felt united to other Christians (both living, dead, yet unborn and yet unconceived), but I hadn't thought of the bread and wine uniting me to earth and to the universe. Wow, powerful.
I haven't yet read or been taught what 'work of the people is' in liturgy; but it seems that a big part of that for me at this stage is learning to be present to what is happening rather then daydreaming, analyzing, questioning... like contemplation only with external awareness to what is going on spiritually while still being aware of the inner movements in my spirit. If so, no wonder it is WORK of the people.
p. 96 I like Catholics, especially Italian ones. If someone weeps in church here, it's just business as usual. They cry lighting candles for a sick relative, looking at Jesus suffering on the cross, or touching the feet of a saint captured in marble.
I found that interesting because my parish is similar. There's been more than once during or after Eucharist when I've seen tears - often through smiles of joy - as people return to their seat after partaking in the Great Thanksgiving. I am so very grateful God has brought me to Parish of the Resurrection.
p. 96 we're not just Homo sapiens (knowing people) but Homo eucharistica (Eucharistic people) as well. In other words, we need more than reason or information to nourish our faith; we're built for firsthand experiences of God through things like the Eucharist as well.
I like that. It goes along with what Augustine said about humans needing symbols and sacred space. I feel my faith has increased since I've been going to the Anglican church and reflecting on the depth of liturgy and Eucharist. Now that I have learned the rudiments of experiencing God in symbols; I can find God easier find God in other venues. In a newborn with his hand wrapped around his mommy's finger; in the clouds changing shapes in the sky; in the rhythm of the rain; in the compassion of a friend; in recognizing the frustration of another driver since God gave us emotions; in the rippling leaves as a breeze blows in the trees; and especially in the quiet of meditation and contemplation.
p. 96 The world is so hungry for God that God could only come as a piece of bread. We so long for joy that God even risked coming into the world in the form of intoxication, that risky thing called wine.
I like that quote and it can add new facets to the beauty of Eucharist. A few years ago I would have rejected it because of who spoke it; but now I can embrace Truth even if it's from a source, Ghandi, that would have scandalized me back then.
p. 96-97 Some time back I heard someone say that the Bible is less a book that tells us what to do than a story that tells us who we are. Maybe that's why the liturgy moved me last Sunday. It took me on a guided journey where I was reminded of who I am, where I came from, how things have gotten so out of whack in this world, how God intervened, and how history is going to end. For so long now I've felt dislocated, and the liturgy helped relocate me. I'm not a character in search of an Author: I have a story.
That makes sense. When I know who I am - then what I do would follows as close as a shadow. For me, trying to figure out how to behave doesn't show me how to be a human being, but a human doing.
This feels vain to me, but I know it's a truth for me. The more I know who God is, the more I know who I am; the more I know who I am, the more I know who God is. There's an interconnectedness that I have just started to discover. At times that thought is almost overwhelming and at other times it's more comforting and warming then my flannel nightie.
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I did the morning office and office of reading. I went to work. I forgot about doing the evening one. I did the invitatory and night prayer before bed. I online chatted with a friend who is becoming a Benedictine and she encouraged me and reminded me that in time doing the office will feel natural and I will automatically want to do it because it will gain such a place in my life and time. Where I've struggled with time management in the past, I think that was my fear - that I'd never gain joy of the rhythm of the daily office but it would be a struggle. It felt good to know that my "prediction" is not the set-in-stone outcome. Yay.
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