Spiritual, Not Religious

As I write this, I'm looking from a balcony out over a placid lake. A storm blew through here last night, but today is calm, though still cloudy. I've been holding my infant twin grandsons this morning. All in all, these moments have been a peaceful experience for me. One might even say a spiritual experience.

In many ways, I find the word spiritual a difficult word to define. I can certainly feel something different in me at certain times and I sometimes call those moments spiritual. I've looked at this lake before without that moment creating that "different experience." Yet, today for several minutes, it felt spiritual, perhaps a transcendent moment. This is the first opportunity to hold the twins since they were born, so that helps me understand the feeling I had while doing it, and I still feel a bit of that feeling even while thinking about it.

The question I'm struggling with is this: is any of this an experience of God?

Years ago, when one of my sons had drifted away from attending worship, I asked him about it. He said he could worship on a boat as he fished as well as he did in church. I countered with, "But, do you?" I don't doubt there may be something spiritual about being on the ocean or a beautiful lake, watching sun burnished water. Maybe even the moment the struggle to land a fish ends well can be spiritual. But is that moment an acknowledgement of God's transcendent, or grace, or mercy? Or is it just a moment with the ordinary is replaced by something different?

I think I want a spiritual moment to not only be transcendent of the ordinary, but also a moment when God's presence is tangible and acknowledged. Such a moment first happened to me when it dawned on me that Jesus didn't just die for the sins of the world in the abstract, but that he died, in the words of John Wesley in a similar moment, "He died for me, even me." There are certain moments in the Eucharist that feel spiritual to me, such as, when the Host is elevated, or when I receive the bread or wine. But, in truth, I don't always experience such moments as spiritual. It seems it very much depends on how receptive I am to the moment being a transcendent experience of God.

Another thought I have about this is that a moment may contain in it an awareness of God and, therefore be spiritual, but not evoke the response of awe and worship that perhaps is, or dare I say, should be, part of the moment to really qualify as spiritual. Put another way, Moses knew God was in the burning bush. He clearly felt his presence. But it didn't end there. He hid his face because he felt unworthy to be in that presence.

I'm a bit afraid, that for many of us, it's possible to be in worship and not experience God, just as it is to have a spiritual moment and not experience God. We may find comfort in looking at a lake or a sunset, or a newborn baby, just as we may find comfort in following a familiar ritual. Whether or not we are worshiping God in those moments seems to be a very different matter.

I think.

Confusingly yours, Jerry+

Flesh and Spirit

Paul is well known for his use of the word “flesh” which he usually contrasts with the word “spirit.”  Typical of this usage is a reading from Galatians that was the Proper Epistle a few weeks ago in which he contrasts works of the flesh and works of the Spirit.

“Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want...Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these....By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

When Paul contrasts the works of the flesh with the fruits of the Spirit, he’s not talking about flesh in the way we often think of it. He’s referring to that part of us that is alienated from God, the unruly and obstinate part of our inner self that doesn’t want to be told what to do. It’s a strong part of us. Consider how hard it is to pray for five or ten minutes without your mind wandering to other things. Or try fasting and see how much you think about food.

In contrast, when Paul talks about Spirit, he’s talking about that part of us that is open to God. It’s that part of us that desires to be in communion with God, to feel God’s presence and touch. When that part of us is developed and nurtured, we begin to live out our baptism, to keep our promises to God, to live as if we are citizens of God’s Kingdom already.

Paul says, when that part is ascendant in us, people around us can tell because of how we act. We love others by showing concern for their wellbeing as if it were our own, we feel and express joy in life, we have an inner peace that centers us and banishes anxiety, we can be patient with those who try us, we’re kind to others, we’re generous with our time, our talents and our treasure, and we’re gentle in our dealings with our neighbor and our adversaries.

One other interesting thing about the works of the Spirit. Paul calls them “gifts.” In other words, they are not sought by us as much as they are given to us when we nurture that part of us that desires to be God’s child. That said, I need to say one more thing about human behavior. I know you can behave your way into a new attitude or character. It’s not the case that you need to be healed in some way before you can be “good.” If you desire to be “good,” that is, if you desire to have the gifts of the Spirit, you can begin to behave as if you do. The very fact that you desire it, indicates that some part of you wishes to communion with God, to be open to God. So, as you begin to amend your actions, those behaviors will be developed as gifts.

Something to think about.

In the Spirit, Jerry+

Children and Communion

 The long custom in The Episcopal Church is to invite to Holy Communion all persons who are admitted to communion in their own tradition.  In practice, this is often spoken of as inviting “all baptized Christians” to join us around the altar.

Other churches differ. In the Roman Catholic Church, children are admitted to communion at an early age, usually about 6 or 7 years old. After some preparatory work, they experience their “first communion.” Confirmation comes later.  By contrast, in the Orthodox Churches, babies are baptized and confirmed at the same time and admitted to communion right away--receiving the wine on a spoon. This approach emphasizes the grace of baptism and the full membership of each baptized child.  

Anglican tradition supports such practices in another way.  

Our tradition suggests that a very good way to grow spiritually is to “experience then understand.”  The idea of baptism followed by confirmation is an example of this.  One receives God’s grace through baptism, but only later does one come to understand what has taken place.  Some have suggested, and indeed, the practice was at one time, that not all children of any age should receive, but that children come to a point of appreciation and readiness to share fully in the Eucharist.  And while we may not have had a “first communion” (though some more Anglo-Catholic parishes did) we wanted our children to “know what they were doing.”  However, as far back as the 1970 General Convention of The Episcopal Church, admission to Communion of baptized but unconfirmed children was authorized without comment on their age.

Let me say more about their “understanding” what they are doing.  It is important that all who receive communion appreciate the importance and wonder of what they are sharing in, but “understanding” can be a difficult criterion to apply. Would we would want to exclude those with learning difficulties from receiving communion because their conceptual skills are not as ours?  I doubt it.

There are a couple of other things to take into account as well.  First, the 1979 Book of Common Prayer makes clear that Baptism is the initiatory rite of the Christian Community. In the words of the Catechism, “Holy Baptism is the sacrament by which God adopts us as his children and makes us members of Christ’s Body, the Church, and inheritors of the kingdom of God.”  [p. 858 BCP]

Second, there is a movement within western Christendom to affirm baptism as the only necessary act of initiation into the Church Universal.  The “Welcome” we say as a congregation to a newly person emphasizes this: “We receive you into the household of God.  Confess the faith of Christ crucified, proclaim his resurrection, and share with us in his eternal priesthood.”  This is why many Christian groups, beginning in Apostolic times, have never resisted baptizing infants—not because we fear that unbaptized children might be damned, but because we want children to be incorporated into the Body of Christ and “branded” as God’s own. Having said this, we cannot logically exclude baptized children, full members of the Church, from Holy Communion.  Their baptism is not incomplete in some way because of their age.

But what of preparation?  All of us promise at the baptism of children and adults to help them grow in the faith.  And we all have the responsibility to help our children understand this Great Mystery.  We can rely on Children’s Chapel, on formation, and on word of mouth to help us help them understand; we can use printed resources to help us as parents teach them.  But this is really more about fully appreciating Communion; not “becoming ready.”  Still, parents can decide that they want their children to wait and the sky will not fall. 

Peace, Jerry+

Signum Crucis: Now You Know 4

Signum crucis is Latin for “the sign of the cross.” This ancient gesture consists of tracing the sign of the cross on oneself, on objects, or other people.  Generally, making the sign on oneself is an act of devotion or remembrance.

There are very early references in Christian literature indicating the use of the practice. Tertullian, an Egyptian theologian who lived in the late first and early second centuries, wrote, "In all our travels and movements in all our coming in and going out, in putting of our shoes, at the bath, at the table, in lighting our candles, in lying down, in sitting down, whatever employment occupies us, we mark our foreheads with the sign of the cross.” He was referring to using the thumb of the right hand to make a small cross on the forehead which was typical for centuries.

Somewhere around the sixth century, the sign of the cross evolved to what we use today. The usual reason for the change is the emergence of a heresy which denied the Trinity. When the cross is made, the person subvocally says, “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen,” thus reinforcing the idea of orthodox Trinitarian belief. 

Some customary times for this act include: whenever the celebrant makes the sign on him/herself or makes the sign over the people, such as in the absolution; and/or in the Nicene Creed when the resurrection of the dead is mentioned; just prior to receiving the bread; and just after receiving the cup. However, you may make the sign whenever you feel so moved. There isn't a "sign of the cross" rule.

The thumb is still sometimes used to make a small cross on one’s forehead. At the beginning of the Gospel reading, some use their right thumb to make a small sign on forehead, lips, and chest.  It is a tactile reminder to keep the Gospel in my head, on my lips and in my heart.  Usually this sign is made as the Deacon reading the Gospel announces the reading, saying, “The Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ according to _____.”  As he/she says these words, some clergy, using the thumb of the right hand, will make the sign of the cross in the Gospel book over a little cross printed there at the beginning of the reading.  He/she may also then use his/her thumb to make the sign on forehead, lips, and chest. 

Typically, the sign is made with the right hand, moving first to the forehead, then the lower chest, up to the left shoulder and then to the right shoulder.  Some then touch the center of the chest. Some forego the touching of the chest and kiss their thumb. The Orthodox Church touches first the right shoulder, then the left when making the sign.

These acts are designed to enhance your experience of the holy and to involve your whole body in worship. If you’re not accustomed to signing, you might consider trying it. The way to become most comfortable with any of them is just to try them for four or five Sundays.  That will likely take care of the feeling of awkwardness when you first begin. 

Peace, Jerry+

Dressing Funny: Now You Know 3

Why do many clergy dress “funny,” especially at worship? Here’s the word.

Wearing Collars

Clergy collars are typically worn by Catholics, Anglicans, Lutherans, COGIC, and increasingly, United Methodists and Presbyterians. Other African-American clergy elect to wear them as well, including independent congregations not affiliated with denominations. Exactly when the practice started is subject to some speculation. One source claims they were first worn by Presbyterian clergy in Scotland. Others are less certain. Some date the seventeenth century as the general time when they emerged; others opt for later dates.

Generally, sources agree that the practice began as ordinary street wear which was adopted, then adapted by clergy. At some point, men’s dress shirts developed detachable collars (and cuffs). These could be changed daily without having to launder the entire shirt. These collars closed in front, usually with a collar pin. The adaptation by clergy was to reverse the collar, as it were, so it closed in back with a collar pin. Both are anchored in front with a collar pin.

The typical Episcopal clergy collar is white, extends completely around the neck and is often called a “dog collar.” There are two variations. Romans and many others, show only a white tab in front with the rest of the collar being black. The tab is actually a white plastic insert that fits into two pockets on the collar of the shirt. The third variation is a white tab with a quarter inch or so or white showing all around the collar top, while the rest of the collar is black. Generally, the choice of which to wear is up to the cleric.

The basic reasons for wearing a collar is to clearly identify a person as clergy. All orders of ordination may wear a collar--deacon, priest, and bishop.

 At Worship

The white garment worn at services of Holy Eucharist is called an alb, from the Latin word for white.  A garment much like this, the toga, was the daily wear of Romans, especially upper class Romans, in the formative years of the Church.  When clergy wore them they were just wearing their “street clothes.” But, as the dress style changed, the clergy kept the alb as their basic garment.  Originally these street clothes might be of different colors, but over time, the Christian community settled on white as a symbol of purity.  

Clergy are not the only ones who wear albs at worship; laity do as well.  Most albs have hoods, but some clergy and others wear a modified alb called a cassock-alb.  It is essentially an alb without a hood. One underlying reason clergy wear vestments is to cover what is worn under them so as to not call attention to themselves in a way that distracts.  The albs are tied at the waist with a cord called a cincture or girdle.

While all those at the altar wear the alb, clergy also wear a colored strip of cloth around their necks called a stole.  The stole is a sign of their office as clergy.  Priests wear it over both shoulders, hanging down the front. Deacons wear the stole diagonally from the left shoulder to the right side.  The stole originally was a kind of Roman robe or cloak which was worn by civic officials.  Over time, in the Church it became simpler and took its current form.  The stole represents the authority of the office of priest or deacon with the priest’s stole also said to represent the yoke of Christ they took on at ordination. The colors represent the liturgical season.

The celebrant of the Eucharist also wears an over garment called a chasuble.  Chasuble is from the Latin word for “little house” because the garment shelters the celebrant.  The chasuble can be simple or elaborate, but it is always seamless as Jesus’ robe was said to be—the robe for which the soldiers cast lots.  

For certain processions, such as major feast days, the celebrant or the Officiant may process wearing a cope.  The cope was originally just a cape worn outdoors to protect against the weather.  It is a large outer garment, open in front.  Attached to the back is a colorful section of cloth that originally was a hood.  Now it is purely decorative.

For other services called Offices, such as, funerals, weddings, and Morning and Evening Prayer, the Officiant will wear a long black garment called a cassock with a flowing over garment in white with a scooped neck, called a surplice.  The cassock is worn by some priests as daily wear over their other clothes.  It is long, to the tops of the shoes, and usually buttons up the front.  Low Church celebrants often wear cassock and surplice with a stole to celebrate the Eucharist.  For some of the offices, the Officiant may wear a black, stole-like band of cloth over the shoulders and down the front.  This is called a tippet and originated in the 14th century.  It is typically Anglican, though some non-Anglicans wear them. 

During the Reformation, many Churches rejected the use of vestments as too Catholic. On the contintent, clergy began wearing black, academic robes or gowns. They are typically called Geneva gowns since that’s where they originated. Some wore stoles; others did not. Some wore two small tabs at the collar of the stole about three inches wide and six or seven inches long. These are called preaching tabs and indicate the person is the “preacher of the day.” They are said to represent the two tablets of the Law.

Bishops dress differently from the other orders of clergy, but we’ve run out of space for this post.

Sartorially yours, Jerry+

Now You Know 2: Mystery Under the Veil

Nice response to last week’s post, so here are a few more “things” that you may wonder about. Or not.

The Mystery under the Veil

You’ve noticed on the altar prior to a Eucharist, there is a tent like device centered on the altar. You probably know there is a chalice under it. But, that’s not all. Here’s what you find in a typical set up. Some variation is allowed.

The Veil            The tent like covering, which is most noticeable from the nave, (area where the people sit) is called a veil. It’s typically the liturgical color of the day, though it may be white instead. At some point in the history of the Church, the chalice to be used in the Eucharist was brought to the altar in a cloth bag. The purpose of the bag is simply to protect the chalice, which is always of some precious metal and may be adorned with jewels. Many parishes store their vessels in such simple bags. During the middle ages, the chalice came to the altar draped in a covering rather than a bag. That covering developed into the veil. 

The veil, which began with a utilitarian function, soon took on symbolic meaning. There are several possible. Some say it represents the veil of the Temple which separates the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Temple. Since it will house the blood of Christ, it should be treated with reverence. There is a simpler meaning. There have been periods in the Church, particularly the Anglican Communion, in which the Eucharist was not celebrated each week. If you came to church and saw the veil, it signaled that there would be a Eucharist--no veil, no Eucharist.

The Burse          Sitting atop the veil is a square of about eight or nine inches that is cloth covered and hinged. It too is in the liturgical color of the day. Removing the burse is the first liturgical action. Burse comes from the Latin word meaning “purse.” When the burse is opened, it will typically have additional purificators (the cloths the chalice bearers use to wipe the chalice after serving someone). After removing the purificators, the burse is removed from the altar. Then the veil is removed, folded and also removed from the altar. Sometimes, rather than purificators, the burse contains the “corporal” (see below).

The Pall         The chalice can now be seen and sitting atop it is a small, rigid, white cloth covered square, embroidered with a cross in the center, and called a “pall.” It’s purpose is to be available to cover the chalice during the Eucharistic prayer as needed to keep things from falling into the chalice. Believe it or not, I’ve used it many times to keep small fruit flies from flying into the chalice during the Eucharistic Prayer. Where they come from is another mystery. It is set aside on the altar during the prayer when not needed for that.

The Corporal         The Corporal is a piece of white linen about eighteen inches square with a cross embroidered on it in the center of the top third of the cloth. It lies on top of the pall. The deacon takes the corporal, unfolds it, and places it in the center of the altar, with one edge lined up with the edge of the altar closest to the priest who will celebrate. On this cloth will be placed the chalice into which wine is poured and which the celebrate will consecrate. Additionally, a “ciborium” will be brought to the altar and placed on the corporal. The ciborium, which means “stemmed cup” hold the majority of the bread to be consecrated. The placement of the corporal is utilitarian--it protects the linen covering of the altar (“Fair Linen”) from drips and catches any stray crumbs of bread. Very often after the Eucharist, during the cleaning in the sacristy (a small room where the vessels and linens are kept), crumbs will be found and reverently disposed of. The corporal may also be laid on the altar prior to setting up the chalice, veil, etc. Traditions vary.

The Paten         Under the pall is the “paten” which is a small plate on which the larger host (Priest’s Host) is placed. Paten comes from the Latin word for small dish. This is the vessel the celebrant will use to serve the consecrated bread.  Under the paten is another purificator which is draped over the chalice. The purificator serves several purposes. Placed here, it protects the lip of the chalice from damage from the paten. It also is available for the deacon or some other server to use with the chalice.

There you have it. That’s the mystery of the veil.

Ritually yours, Jerry+

Now You Know 1

I’ve always been curious about “things,” especially things religious. Others seem to enjoy learning about these things that interest me, so now and then, I like to share them. Thus, this week’s post.

The Egg

Ever wonder what eggs have to do with Easter? Historically, eating certain foods, like meat, has been forbidden during Lent. The egg is one such food. Somewhere in the middle ages, a tradition developed of bringing eggs to church on Easter to have them blessed so they could, once again, be eaten. Who knows why someone started decorating them?

The Number Eight

Eight represents Jesus’ Resurrection, because he rose from the tomb on the eighth day after he entered Jerusalem. In the early Church, rather than call Sunday the first day of the week, it was called “Eighth Day.” It has also come to represent baptism because, eight people were saved from The Flood. Which is why, many baptismal fonts, such as St. Mary’s is--guess what---eight-sided. There are also eight Beatitudes and Jesus was circumcised on the eighth day after his birth. Finally, the various hours of prayer which ordered monastic life and the life of nuns consisted of eight times to pray.

Gradual

Have you ever noticed in the bulletin of many Episcopal churches, a Gradual Hymn is sung? We tend not to list it in our bulletin, but we sing one. Our meaning of “gradual” might confuse you. But it’s not our meaning. It comes from the Latin word for “step.” Historically, what we call the pulpit was called (and still can be called) the ambo, which means “raised platform,” that is, a platform raised by steps from the main level. While sermons were preached from the highest level, readings from the Old Testament or Epistles were read from a lower step. Hence, a gradual hymn is sung prior to reading some Scripture while the lector goes to a lower step to read.

Sequence

We alway sing a sequence hymn prior to the reading of the Gospel, and we even list it that way in the bulletin. You’ve probably guessed sequence is not being used in the sense we use it today. The hymn or chant which has historically been sung here is inspired by a kind of Latin poetry, written in a non-classical meter, usually on a sacred subject, called a sequence. However, most non-Catholic liturgical churches choose a hymn from their hymnal that relates to the readings of the day. The likely purpose was to give the clergy, typically the deacon, time to move to the center of the nave so he could be heard.

IHS or INRI

These letters are often placed in the center of a cross or engraved on some liturgical implement. Let’s take IHS first. Many people have been taught that they represent the first letters of three Latin words: Iesus Hominum Salvator (Jesus, Savior of Men or Mankind). However, it’s called a Christogram and is the first three letters of the Greek name of Jesus: iota-eta-sigma.

INRI are the initial letters of the Latin phrase, “Iesus Nazarenes Rex Judaeorium” (Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews). This was on the plaque or titulus placed over Jesus head by Pilate.

Introit

And we end with a word associated with beginnings. In its full glory it is “antiphona ad introtium” (antiphon on the entry). An introit thus, is a song or chant sung by the choir to signal the entry of the clergy into the nave or in some cases into the chancel. Historically, it was long enough (or the clergy walk was short enough) that it was the “opening hymn.” Once the walk got longer or the introits got shorter, a congregational hymn followed it to allow for the walk. Or as a very dear friend of mine calls the “entering processional,” the “parade!” As a convert from a non-liturgical church she said this in the context of “how could not like a church that starts worship with a parade!”  I agree.

So there you have it. We like to use Greek and Latin to keep the whole thing feeling mysterious. That, and “that’s the way we’ve always done it.”

Dominus vobiscum, Jerry