Sometimes the sounds from the chimes are rhythmic, like the regular movement of a person from one place to another. We’re all on a journey. What do you hear?
The Journey Prayer
God, bless to me this day,
God bless to me this night;
Bless, O bless, Thou God of grace,
Each day and hour of my life;
Bless, O bless, Thou God of grace,
Each day and hour of my life.
God, bless the pathway on which I go;
God, bless the earth that is beneath my sole;
Bless, O God, and give to me Thy love,
O God of gods, bless my rest and my repose;
Bless, O God, and give to me Thy love,
And bless, O God of gods, my repose.
Listen. Do the chimes sound like the start of a conversation? Be still. Listen. What do you hear?
A God who is Friend
If you haven’t discovered inward/outward, today is a good day to change that. The site “is an ongoing, online conversation sponsored by The Church of the Saviour in Washington, DC.”
As preparation for hearing the Gospel this Sunday (Luke 3:15-17, 21-22) listen to these words from Oscar Romero:
This is the beauty of prayer and of Christian life: coming to understand that a God who converses with humans has created them and has lifted them up, with the capacity of saying “I” and “you.” What would we give to have such power as to create a friend to our taste and with a breath of our own life to make that friend able to understand us and be understood by us and converse intimately–to know our friend as truly another self? That is what God has done; human beings are God’s other self. He has lifted us up so that he can talk with us and share his joys, his generosity, his grandeur. He is the God who converses with us.
Gracious Father, we pray for thy holy Catholic Church. Fill it with all truth, in all truth with all peace. Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in any thing it is amiss, reform it. Where it is right, strengthen it; where it is in want, provide for it; where it is divided, reunite it; for the sake of Jesus Christ thy Son our Savior. Amen.
A prayer (updated) of William Laud (see The Book of Common Prayer, p. 816)
The chimes produce a mixed sound today: sometimes a violent crashing sound, sometimes a soft peaceful sound. What do you hear?
William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, d. 1645
Today (January 10th) the Episcopal Church remembers William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury (1633-1645). Laud’s short biography in Holy Women, Holy Men tells the truth, “Laud’s reputation has remained controversial to this day. [He is] [h]onored as a martyr and condemned as an intolerant bigot ….”
Given the current concern among some in England about “The Succession to the Crown Bill” it is informative to remember today that, “Laud believed the Church of England to be in direct continuity with the medieval Church, and he stressed the unity of Church and State, exalting the role of the king as the supreme governor.” (“William Laud” on Holy Women, Holy Men).
It’s a poetic sound in the chimes tonight. What do you hear?
We three kings of Orient are
If you haven’t discovered Hymnary.org yet, now would be a good time. The text of this favorite Epiphany hymn was written by John H. Hopkins (an Episcopal deacon) in 1867 and the text and more is set out nicely by Hymnary. It is a rich source of texts, history, music, and much more.
1
We three kings of Orient are:
Bearing gifts we traverse afar—
Field and fountain, moor and mountain—
Following yonder star.
Chorus:
Oh, star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
2
Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain:
Gold I bring to crown Him again,
King forever, ceasing never,
Over us all to reign.[Chorus]
3
Frankincense to offer have I,
Incense owns a Deity nigh;
Prayer and praising, all men raising,
Worship Him, God on high.[Chorus]
4
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom—Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone cold tomb.[Chorus]
5
Glorious now behold Him arise:
King and God and Sacrifice;
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Earth to heaven replies.[Chorus]
But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.
Romans 8:25-26 NRSV
The chimes are a call to prayer (again). What do you hear?
Continuing prayer for our new Congress
I’ll confess that I often don’t know how to pray, even when my hopes seem to be in accord with God’s love. On January 3, 2013 many, including me, began a 21-day prayer vigil for our new Congress and the President. In addition to our daily and weekly prayers for our political leaders, this is a special time of prayer requested by an interfaith coalition of folks like you and me. Commit to praying, and let us trust the Spirit to work in ways we can barely imagine. Read more about this effort and sign-on to pray here: Call to Prayer. Then, join us in praying for our new Congress.
On that day: The deaf will hear the words of a scroll and, freed from dimness and darkness, the eyes of the blind will see. The poor will again find joy in the Lord, and the neediest of people will rejoice in the holy one of Israel.
Isaiah 29:18-19 CEB
Today, January 3rd, the Episcopal Church remembers William Passavant (October 9, 1821 – January 3, 1894).
William Passavant was a Pennsylvania Lutheran pastor who left an uncommonly rich legacy of service. He was driven by a desire to see the consequences of the Gospel worked out in practical ways in the lives of people in need. For Passavant, the church’s commitment to the Gospel must not be spiritual only. It must be visible. For him, it was essential that Gospel principles were worked out in clear missionary actions.
In the Collect we ask God, the Compassionate, to “inspire us by his example, that we may be tireless to address the wants of all who are sick and friendless….”
One of the goals of the Sunday Morning Forum is to hear the Spirit calling us to such service and gracing us to serve to the welfare of others and the glory of God. The chimes sound, “you are called to serve.” What do you hear?
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
[…] And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1, 14 NRSV
Holy Innocents Icon, ca. 2010
When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, … When Herod knew the magi had fooled him, he grew very angry. He sent soldiers to kill all the male children in Bethlehem and in all the surrounding territory who were two years old and younger, according to the time that he had learned from the magi.
Matthew 2:13, 16 CEB
From the Gospel read on the Feast of the Holy Innocents,
December 28th
Remembering Holy Innocents, December 28
The merriment of Christmas and the profound mystery proclaimed by John (John 1:1ff) are in stark contrast to the brutal events perpetrated by Herod (Matthew 2:13ff), the violent slaughter in Newtown, CT, and daily reports of the death of children (0–17) due to abuse, neglect, and violence.
John Thatamanil, is an Associate Professor of Theology and World Religions at Union Theological Seminary in New York and is a member of St. Augustine’s Episcopal Chapel at Vanderbilt. Yesterday (12/27/12) he posted an essay “Christmas in Newtown and Bethlehem.” In it, he speaks to the contrast and its meaning for us who seek to follow Christ:
The slaughter of innocents and the birth of a child in excruciating vulnerability — this is a profoundly counterintuitive way to speak of God’s coming. Unlike the light and unblemished merriness that we wish each other every Christmas, the Bible offers no happily-ever-after fairy tale. The world into which the Christian Messiah enters is shattered by terror and ruled by Roman imperial power and its client dictators.
The Gospel narratives suggest that the coming of God does not (then or now) undo our capacity to inflict violence upon each other nor does it radically reconfigure the conditions under which we live out our lives. On the contrary, these very conditions, in all their fragility, are sanctified by incarnation. When God assumes flesh and enters the world, this very world is accepted and embraced.
God does not first remake the world in order to enter it, and entering the world does not diminish the dignity of divinity. The incarnation affirms that our fragility and frailty are not contrary to divine intention. Rather, they too are taken up by divinity when God becomes flesh. This world, as it stands, offers the necessary conditions for love and community. The coming of God as a child affirms that this fragile world is as it ought to be.
God does not come to eradicate vulnerability but to teach us how to welcome it. Love comes to open our eyes to look for holiness not in might and power, not in any futile attempt to secure ourselves against each other by force of arms, but precisely in our delicate bonds with each other.
The wind blows. The sounds from the chimes burst out like merriment, then jangle in discord, and then are silent. All this happens in the space of minutes. What do you hear?
Icon: Suzanne Zoole commissioned by The Rev. Michael Sullivan and Holy Innocents Episcopal Church in Atlanta, GA. About the icon.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
[…] And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1, 14 NRSV
These words from the “Prologue of John” (John 1:1-18) will be proclaimed this Sunday (12/30/12) in our worship. Today, December 27th, is the day the Church remembers (St.) John the Evangelist, the ‘author’ of these familiar words. Perhaps, if he were to ‘write’ his Good News today, he might present it differently:
The wind moves the chimes mysteriously and the sounds constantly amaze and delight. What do you hear?
The slaughter of innocents and the birth of a child in excruciating vulnerability — this is a profoundly counterintuitive way to speak of God’s coming. Unlike the light and unblemished merriness that we wish each other every Christmas, the Bible offers no happily-ever-after fairy tale. The world into which the Christian Messiah enters is shattered by terror and ruled by Roman imperial power and its client dictators.
Click to play the Christ Child’s Lullaby
Hear what the Spirit is saying 