Our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, refers to us as “the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement”. The tree off the movement, to follow Bishop Michael’s metaphor, is vast and complicated. Christianity is the largest religious tradition in the world in terms of numbers of adherents.
We might wonder at why the Jesus movement has split itself into so many different branches and twigs, but it is understandable that especially when it comes to beliefs and practices that we hold dear, that give direction to the way we live our lives and that we’re both intellectually and emotionally invested in, it can be hard to compromise. From the time that Jesus was still with his disciples, disagreements and disputes arose, and the New Testament records the fact that differences within and between congregations were very much a part of life from the earliest days of the church. In the fourth and fifth centuries, disagreement about belief, practice, and authority had become concerning enough that Christian leaders gathered in a series of councils with the goal of hammering out their differences. Some points of consensus emerged about what it meant to be a follower of Jesus. The creed we say weekly was formulated at the First Council of Nicea in 325, and certain schools of belief were declared to be heresies at Constantinople and Ephesus. As you might anticipate, however, concord or compromise could NOT be reached on some of the early church’s disagreements, and the first significant formal instances of separation between traditions took place, to be followed, over the centuries, by many more. For our purposes today, the important point of differentiation leading to what is now the Episcopal branch was the Protestant reformation of the 16th century. At the time, Christian Europe was united under the authority of the Bishop of Rome, the Pope. In 1517 Martin Luther, a German teacher and monk, published a document he called “Disputation on the Power of Indulgences” or 95 Theses that he was inviting other church leaders to debate with him. As you’re undoubtedly aware, Luther wasn’t subtle: he posted his document on the door of the church in Wittenburg. Luther’s thinking and action was radical because the Catholic Church of the time was extremely dogmatic: its teachings – especially if they came from the Pope himself – were to be accepted without question and its practices followed to the letter, or one could expect dire consequences in the afterlife. Luther’s fundamental disagreement with the Church was that it had set itself up as a necessary intermediary between the believer and God. The faithful needed to purchase forgiveness of their sins by payments to the Church and neither the Bible nor the words of worship itself were in the languages that ordinary people spoke or could read. Luther, and reformers like Calvin and Zwingli who followed his actions in publicly challenging Catholic teachings, wanted believers to understand that they have an independent relationship with God for which they are responsible, without the mediation of the Church or its clergy. The English Reformation that resulted in our “branch of the Jesus movement” was more political than theological. We’re all familiar with the sad story of King Henry VIII of England and his six wives. Henry was fundamentally a devout Catholic and, in the early part of his reign, was named “Defender of the Faith” by Pope Leo X for his staunch support of papal supremacy. His failure to produce a male heir became a driving force in his life in the second decade of his reign and his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, however. Pope Clement VII refused to approve annulment of Henry’s marriage in order for Henry to remarry. Henry and his advisors, including Thomas Cranmer (of whom we’ll hear more), eventually engineered a parliamentary act denying the authority of the Pope over the English Church and identifying the English monarch as “Supreme Head” of the Church in doctrinal and legal matters, opening the way for Henry to obtain a divorce. The Church of England was, in he following decades, actually pretty ambivalent about the ideas of Luther and the other reformers, and and the way the church developed was motivated by both religious and political concerns. Some influential thinkers and political advisors (including Henry’s second wife Anne Boleyn) were genuinely sympathetic to the ideas of the Protestants, while others remained deeply attached to both the theology and liturgical practices of Catholicism. This ambivalence in the English Church leads to what I want to identify as the first significant characteristic of Anglicanism, but before we go there, let’s look briefly at the way authority and governance in our part of the Church is organized. The Anglican Communion includes all churches throughout the world that choose to affiliate themselves with the Church of England, and all, to be truthful about it, spring from the centuries of colonization practiced by the British Empire. Coming out of the Reformation, Anglicanism retained (from Catholicism) an episcopal structure. Bishops have responsibility for and authority over priests, deacons, and laypeople in matters of practice. This is why Heather and I ask Bishop Doug for permission when we want to use liturgies that don’t come from the prayer book, and when, early in the pandemic, Bishop Doug communicated that Episcopal Bishops had agreed that “remote consecration”, setting bread and wine in individual homes for consecration during virtual worship, was not in keeping established understanding and tradition in the Episcopal Church, we complied. The Head Bishop (or Primate) of each member branch of the Anglican Communion, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Primate of the Church of England, is a spiritual leader and frequently acts as a spokesperson for the denomination, but does not have authority over other bishops as the Pope does in Roman Catholicism. To be “in communion” with other Anglican churches is like being in a family: we don’t always agree with one another, but we commit to remaining in communication and (as an ideal, not always realized,) we don’t attempt to impose our own understanding and ways of doing things on one another. In the last several decades the Episcopal Church has often been an outlier in the Anglican Communion as a result of our decisions to ordain women and to open the sacraments including ordination and marriage to sisters and brothers who identify as GLBTQ+. So on to what is really important: What are the principals and characteristics that distinguish us from the many other branches and twigs of the Jesus movement? I’d like to touch on three. 1) We are characterized as being a via media, a middle way between the Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches and the most reformed of the Protestant denominations. This principal springs from such Reformation leaders as Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry, who wanted to embrace the thinking of the reformers without, in effect, throwing the baby out with the bathwater in abandoning all Roman Catholic thinking. This via media sensibility is undoubtedly why so many people raised in the Catholic tradition find their way to the Episcopal Church. Our liturgy and devotional practices and often, our theology, remain close to that of the Catholic Church. I personally think that part of the genius of the Anglican way is that the via media nature of the denomination embraces a “big tent” approach: for the most part (and again, we sometimes fail at this,) we allow for differences in emphasis and practice according to personal preference and local custom. Some Anglicans pray with rosaries and icons, many don’t. Congregations on the “high church” end of the spectrum use incense and bells in worship, many do not. Some call their clergy “Reverend” or “Pastor” and others prefer “Father” or “Mother”. You don’t see such diversity and tolerance in all denominations. 2) A second characteristic of Anglicanism is closely related. Richard Hooker of the late 16th century is generally credited with coming up with the image of the “three-legged stool” on which the via media rests, even though the metaphor as we use it today really comes from the 19th century Oxford Movement. The concept of the three-legged stool is that Anglican doctrine is based on three things – scripture, tradition, and reason, and that all three must be taken into consideration in order for the stool – the teaching and practice of the Church – to be in balance. Some denomination favor one or another of the three: “if we don’t find something in the Bible, it shouldn’t be part of Christian practice”; or, “we’ve always done it that way, so it must be what God wants us to do”. Anglicans insist, coming from the work of the Reformers, that the Bible contains “all things necessary to salvation”2 Like the Catholic churches, we maintain deep respect for the wisdom of longstanding tradition, and are very cautious about precipitous change. But we are also committed to the exercise of human reason, of critical analysis, of logical consistency and of implications. If what the Bible and tradition suggest are not consistent with the lived experience of the people, we’ve got to keep working on thinking it through. 3) The third defining characteristic and foundational principle of Anglicanism that I want to mention this morning is reflected in yet another churchy phrase from the latin: Lex orandi, lex credendi. Loosely translated, “the law of prayer is the law of belief” or better, “You are what you pray.” Words are important to Episcopalians because we understand that “prayer, belief, and action are intimately tied together.”3 Episcopalians, as do Anglicans worldwide, use a common prayer book. Thomas Cranmer (again) oversaw and in fact wrote many of the words of the first Book of Common Prayer, published in 1549. It was the first time English-speaking people had a common text guiding them, in the language they spoke, in their relationship with God. Many of the prayers were translations in (then) contemporary language of ancient prayers dating back many centuries, and thus, served to root Anglicans deeply in the Church’s traditions. We continue to use many of those 16th century words in our prayers today. The language we use in prayer shapes the way we understand God, ourselves, and the world. The words we say when praying together don’t just express what we believe, they determine what we believe. And in shaping our beliefs, they determine the choices we make. I am glad to be an Episcopalian. Having grown up in the tradition I haven’t known any other way, so my assessment isn’t exactly unbiased. I love the rich liturgical practices of the Church, and our embrace of symbol. I love our appreciation of language. I’ve seen the denomination evolve, in my lifetime, to be much more mission-focused than it used to be, and to become much more inclusive. I’m grateful that in nurturing and supporting my relationship with God in Jesus Christ I am encouraged to think and to formulate my own perspectives. What do you appreciate about the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement, and how would you also like to change it?
One church in Virginia created a visual of how the Church marks time, and they made the image widely available for other communities.3 You’ll see in this image that the church year is a circle, ever in motion. At the heart of the circle are two halves:
The Story of Jesus and The Story of the People of God. We spend roughly six months in each. You’ll notice the ring around the inner circle reflects secular time, beginning in December and ending in November. While we might find it unusual that the Church calendar is at odds with our secular calendar, I think it is another reminder about who we are. As followers of Christ walking the way of love, our priorities are coming together to proclaim God’s dream for this world by being the hands and feet of Christ in our communities. On a daily basis, striving to turn this world upside down and right side up again by loving ourselves and our neighbors, as God loves us. This often puts us at odds with the priorities of the wider culture--which place a high value on productivity, consumerism, and individualism. The Church calendar being out of sync with the secular calendar reminds us that being a follower of Christ is going to put us out of sync with the wider culture. And that’s just as it ought to be. You’ll notice the next ring of the circle marks the liturgical seasons. There are six short seasons during the first half of the year when we focus on the story of Jesus. Then just outside the circle, on the top half, is one word describing each season. The year begins with Advent; a season of anticipation. During these four weeks, we watch the shadows lengthen, eagerly awaiting and remembering when a bright light burst into our troubled world, all those years ago, as a newborn child, and will come again someday in glory. We shift to the color blue in our vestments and frontals, and use an advent wreath to mark our time; lighting an additional candle each week. The readings assigned from the Hebrew Bible are drawn from Isaiah, foreshadowing the coming Messiah, while the Gospel readings emphasize the work of John the Baptist, preparing the way for the coming Christ. Here again we find the church calendar at odds with the secular calendar. As the wider culture goes into overdrive consuming more food, alcohol, presents, parties, and countless other ways of over functioning, the Church is asked to slow down. To be still; to wait mindfully for the Christ-child. As followers journeying the way of love, we seek to live into the tension of these competing priorities. Following Advent are the twelve days of Christmas, where the colors shift to a bright gold or white. Starting with the Feast of the Nativity we begin a celebration of God’s incarnation. The magnificent and humbling reality that the Creator of the cosmos was also willing to be born as one of us; to live, suffer, love and die as one of us.I once heard a theologian describe how different denominations seem to find one aspect of the story of Jesus more meaningful than others. He argued that for Episcopalians, it was the act of the incarnation itself that mattered most-- the very fact that our God would embody love for us in human flesh. If God did nothing else, this one act was enough to change everything. Christmas is followed by Epiphany, a season of revelation. On the Feast of the Epiphany, we remember the arrival of the magi, who travelled from a distant land following a star to find the Christ-child. Throughout the season, the readings recall the many ways Jesus was revealed to people-- from his baptism, to the calling of the disciples, to the transfiguration. The season emphasizes Jesus’ mission to bring God’s dream to the whole of creation. We use gold or white for the Feast of Epiphany, and green throughout the rest of the season. Next is the season of Lent, which begins on Ash Wednesday. We are marked with ashes, reminding us of our mortality. From there we spend the next forty days tending to our relationship with God. We practice greater self-discipline than we might ordinarily, attempt to live simpler lives, and spend more time in prayer and devotion. Another season of feeling the tension between the priorities of the wider culture and the priorities for followers of the way of love. It is a season of remembering that sometimes we lose our way, yet God is always there with us, ready to continue the journey. We see this theme in the readings, as God and the Israelites wander together in the wilderness, and with Jesus during his own wilderness time. Purple is the color for the season, which you’ll notice in the clergy’s vestments. Though here at James and Andrew, we have a dark red and creme frontal, which were once the colors of Lent. Then on Palm Sunday we begin our journey through Holy Week, remembering Jesus' final days. During that week we use red on Palm Sunday, white on Maundy Thursday, and on Good Friday we simply let the bare wood of the altar speak for itself. Yet the very next evening a new season begins with the Great Vigil of Easter, where we rejoice in the news of an empty tomb and the resurrected Christ. We proclaim the good news that love will always conquer death. Our worship begins in darkness, until the new fire is lit and we recall the sacred story of God’s relationship with humanity, which culminates in the story of Jesus’ resurrection and the return of light into our world. Throughout the fifty days of the season we use gold or white, and the readings remind us of the disciples' various encounters with the resurrected Christ and what all this meant for followers of the way of love. All of this leads up to Christ’s ascension on the Feast of the Ascension, and the arrival of the Holy Spirit on the Feast Day of Pentecost. We wear red, and celebrate the birth of the Church. From there we enter the second half of the year, Ordinary Time. The very long season of green. Ordinary Time is our response to the story of Jesus. In scripture, we hear story after story of the people of God, as we navigate the ins and outs of walking the way of love. In some of the stories we get it right, and embody the very best of God’s love and are engaging in the work of transforming the world into what God always knew we could be. Other times, we get sidetracked or self-involved, and are given growth opportunities that we may or may not have asked for. This is our story of doing our best to walk the way of love. During ordinary time there are two principal feasts: Trinity Sunday, where we recognize the threefold nature of God; and All Saints Day, where we honor the multitude of saints whose lives inspire and encourage us in our journey of faith. Trinity Sunday is the first Sunday after Pentecost, and All Saints falls near the end of ordinary time in November. Yet the rest of the season is rather flat and, well, ordinary. There are no great spiritual highs and lows. This is important because it reminds us that the work of faith is an everyday kind of thing, not just for those special seasons and days. You’ve heard me mention some feast days. These are known as Principal Feasts-- Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, Ascension, Pentecost, Trinity Sunday, and All Saints. There are also regular feast days. Do you know when these days are? If you guessed every Sunday of the year, you guessed correctly. There are many other holy days throughout the year: special days in the life of Jesus, remembering the apostles, and days of fasting, such as Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. In addition to this there are also a great many other special commemorations in Lesser Feasts and Fasts and A Great Cloud of Witnesses, if you are interested in learning more about holy days. This was rather a birds eye view of the church calendar and liturgical year, and if you are interested in learning more about a particular aspect, please be sure to let me know and we’ll keep it in mind for a future topic. If there is one thing you take away from today, I hope it is that our liturgy, our work of bringing about God’s dream in this world is centered and grounded in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. We mark time with the story of Jesus and our response to it. As we head into the week before us, I’d encourage us each to consider: When in the church year do you find your life most in tension with the priorities of the wider culture? What is your favorite liturgical season and why?4 How do these special seasons and holy days deepen our relationship with God?5 Amen.
Rev. Heather J. Blais
Part 1: Tradition of Morning Prayer, Opening Acclamation, Confession, & Absolution
Across religious traditions and cultures, people have been pausing to pray at particular times throughout the day for thousands of years. Some of you may be familiar with the phrase ‘praying the hours’, this idea that communities of faith stop at set times to remember that God is walking with us. Praying the hours binds a people of faith together, even as they are physically apart. Monastic communities have played a critical role in the development of these liturgies, such as the Benedictine practice to stop and pray at eight intervals throughout the day. When Thomas Cranmer offered the first prayer book, he simplified the number of set times for prayer, what we commonly refer to now as the Daily Office. The 1979 Book of Common Prayer features Morning Prayer, Noonday Prayer, Evening Prayer, and Compline. Today, we’ll focus on Morning Prayer. Morning Prayer is a rich resource, which can be used by individuals at home, or as the chief liturgy on a Sunday. It may be led by the laity or the clergy. We begin with an opening sentence from scripture, praying that God open our lips in order that we might praise God. We then move into a confession of sin, where we confess not only our individual sins, but also our failures as a community--such as poverty, racism, and violence. At the heart of the confession is our recognition that sometimes we choose selfishness, instead of love for God and neighbor. Then in the absolution we pray for God to forgive us and strengthen our resolve to live a life of love. Part 2: Venite/ Jubilate/ Christ our Passover, Lectionary, & Canticles Morning Prayer is rich with poetry and song, most of which is drawn from scripture. One of the places we really notice this is in the selection between the Venite, the Jubilate, and Christ our Passover in Easter season. The Venite is taken from Psalm 95, “Come, let us sing to the Lord…” The 1545 Primer of King Henry VIII calls the Venite a “...song stirring to the praise of God”.* The Jubilate is taken from Psalm 100, “Be joyful in the Lord, all you lands…”. The psalm invites us to come before God’s presence with a song and to marvel at the goodness of our creator. In Easter season we’ll say Christ our Passover, which draws from Paul’s letters’ to the Corinthians and Romans to celebrate the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. We will use the Sunday lectionary readings, just as we do when we have services of Holy Eucharist, featuring lessons from the old and new testaments. For those interested in praying the daily office at home, I will be posting links to many resources with this sermon, including links to the daily lectionary. One difference with Morning Prayer, is that we have the psalm prior to the first lesson, followed by the Glory Patri, more familiar to us as “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…” The most unique and beautiful part of Morning Prayer may be the canticles which follow the lessons. Depending on the number of lessons, we will have one or two canticles. For those of you who are longtime Morning Prayer fans, you may notice that we are using a more diverse selection of canticles than what is found in the prayerbook, as we are also drawing from canticles found in Enriching Our Worship 1. The word canticle is derived from latin, and simply means a ‘little song’. Canticles are generally drawn from biblical texts other than the psalms, though three of the ones adopted in Enriching our Worship 1 are taken from other sacred texts written by Anselm of Canterberry and Julian of Norwich. Today we will get to hear one of the Julian of Norwich canticles, as I know we have several Julian of Norwich fans in our faith community. If now is not the time to embrace Julian’s teaching that ‘all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well’ then I’m not sure when it is! Part 3: The Apostles’ Creed, Prayers, Suffrages, & Collects One of the differences we’ll notice with Morning Prayer is that in lieu of the Nicene Creed, we say the Apostles’ Creed. The Apostles' Creed dates back to at least the fourth century, and is sometimes referred to as the baptismal creed because it is what we say at our baptisms. It is a brief summary of the core beliefs we embrace when we seek to follow Christ, which we remember at every baptism, daily office, marriage, and burial service. Following the creed, we then transition into a series of prayers, suffrages, and collects focused on expressing our concerns to God. We begin with the Lord’s Prayer, which is the prayer Jesus offered to the disciples, and we use it in every service. Then follows the suffrages, which are responsive prayers of petition. You may notice we are using an unfamiliar form of suffrages today--these too are taken from Enriching Our Worship 1. Like many other parts of Morning Prayer, suffrages are composed of various psalms assembled in a call and response format. Following these suffrages, are a series of collects. A collect simply means a prayer that collects the thoughts and prayers of all. The Collect of the Day is focused on tying together the themes of that day’s assigned lectionary readings. We will hear a variety of other collects during Morning Prayer, such as the one for Sundays, for the renewal of life, for peace, for grace, for guidance, and for mission. This time of lifting up our concerns to God concludes with intercessory prayers where we are all invited to lift up our thanks, prayers, and praise. Part 4: Peace, Offertory, General Thanksgiving, Prayer-St. Chrysostom, Dismissal Next comes the Peace. The Peace is an ancient Christian practice where we share a sign of reconciliation, love, and renewed relationships by greeting one another. While the Peace is not formally a part of Morning Prayer, it is an important part of our primary worship as a faith community. Similarly, the offertory and doxology are not routine parts of Morning Prayer, but they are an essential part of our communal life and so we include them. At the offertory, we offer ourselves as well as our material gifts to God and we conclude by singing the doxology as a means of praising God: our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Morning Prayer offers two concluding prayers. The first is a General Thanksgiving, which may have been inspired by a private prayer of Queen Elizabeth I. We know part of why it appeared in the prayer book was pushback from Puritans, who were frustrated by a lack of prayers focused on thanksgiving. The second is a prayer attributed to Saint John Chrysostrom. Saint John was Bishop of Constantinople and is remembered throughout history for his way with words. You might remember hearing his famous Easter sermon at one of our Easter vigil services. The very last part of the service is the Dismissal. The Latin phrase that describes this portion of the service translates to, “Go, it is the sending.” At this point, the worship service has ended, but our service as ministers of Christ is just beginning. We are to go into the world in the name of Christ. Resources:
* Mariot J. Hatchett in Commentary on the American Prayer Book, pg. 105. Rev. Heather Blais Chapter 1
Again this week we are having an Instructed Eucharist, which simply means we will be pausing at a few different times in the service to talk about why we do what we do. Our tradition is rich with symbolism and meaning, and my hope is that this will enhance our worship experience. Let’s start with the beginning of the service. Our service usually begins with a hymn, and when we are in the main sanctuary with a Processional. The processional gets the altar party to their designated places. The procession is formal, featuring a verger, crucifer, torchbearers, and the Gospel book held high. They process while the congregation sings a hymn. The processional stems from when Christianity was first legalized under Constantine in the fourth century. At that time, services became more formalized, which increased participation in the liturgy, and worship began to take place in larger buildings. The Opening Acclamation is a greeting which marks the beginning of the liturgy, and serves as a reminder that the purpose of this gathering is to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. You may have noticed, that in the season of Lent we begin our worship with a Penitential Order, moving the Confession and Absolution to the beginning of the service. In Lent we are preparing ourselves for the Passion, Jesus’ suffering and death, and so the opening acclamation fits the theme of beginning worship by acknowledging our need for God’s grace and forgiveness and by confessing our sins and hearing God’s forgiveness through Jesus Christ, pronounced by the priest. When we are not in Lent, the opening acclamation is followed by the Collect for Purity – “Unto you all hearts are open and no secrets are hid…” It asks for God’s grace as part of our preparation for worship, and has been part of our liturgy since 1549. We then move immediately into a hymn of praise to the Trinity. For most of the year we use the Gloria in Excelsis, which means, “Glory to God in the highest”, and begins with the song the angels sang to shepherds in Luke’s nativity story. Its use in worship dates from the fourth century. During Lent (and often in Advent as well,) we substitute another hymn such as the Kyrie, “Lord, have mercy”. Chapter 2 The central aspect in the first half of the service is the Liturgy of the Word, where we hear scripture lessons, listen to a reflection on God’s word, and respond with prayer. Ordinarily there are four Lessons. They are assigned by the Revised Common Lectionary, which helps us get through most of the Bible in a three-year cycle, known as Years A, B, and C. Most mainline Churches use the lectionary. The first and third lesson are read by a reader from the congregation at a lectern. Lecterns are often in the shape of an eagle, to remind the congregation of John the Evangelist, who proclaimed Christ as ‘the Word of God’ at the beginning of his Gospel. The hope being the Word of God will reach the ends of the earth, when read from the eagle lectern. The first lesson is usually from the Hebrew Scriptures, sometimes referred to as the Old Testament. These were the Scriptures that Jesus knew. The second lesson is a Psalm from the Psalter, (which are really hymns intended to be sung, which is why we sometimes chant the psalm.) The Psalms are attributed to King David, but in reality they come from many different authors, during many different periods of Israel’s history. The third lesson is from the New Testament, which consists of twenty-seven early Christian writings that the early Church agreed should be considered Holy Scripture. We typically hear a passage from one of the early church letters, many of which came from the Apostle Paul, Luke’s Acts of the Apostles, or The Revelation of John. The fourth lesson is an excerpt from one of the four New Testament gospels and it is the climax of the liturgy of the word. The word gospel means “good news”, and the writings tell the good news of God’s saving act in Jesus Christ. By tradition, the Gospel is read from the center of the congregation, so the word of God will be proclaimed with the people, not at them. Worshippers customarily stand and face the Gospel book to signify our heightened attention to this most important reading. If you have ever been to Jewish worship, you may have observed how closely our Gospel procession resembles the Jewish tradition of bearing the Torah scroll into the midst of the congregation. After the readings we hear the Sermon. The point of a sermon is to “break open” the Word of God. The preacher will give thoughtful prayer and consideration to the lessons, in particular the gospel, any theme that might be present, the liturgical occasion, the congregation gathered, and the pastoral needs of the situation. Sermons have been a part of worship since the early church. Following the sermon is the Creed, which is a basic statement about our belief in God. We have used the Nicene Creed in its current form since the 4th century, when it was developed by early Church leaders to help articulate and ensure consistency within the Christian movement. We then express our concerns to God in the Prayers of the People. There are many different versions approved by the Church for use. The prayers usually cover six categories: the church, the world, the nation, the community, the suffering, and the dead. General intercessions in worship are an ancient practice of the early church. The Prayers are usually followed by the Confession and Absolution, moved, during Lent, to the opening of the service. This part of the service concludes with the exchange of the Peace, an ancient Christian practice where we share a sign of reconciliation, love, and renewed relationships in the Christian community by greeting one another “with a Holy Kiss” as it says in scripture—or just a handshake and a smile. As Christians, we believe making peace with one another is necessary before receiving the Holy Eucharist. Chapter 3 The second half of the worship, known as the liturgy of the table, opens with the Offertory, in which we offer ourselves as well as our material gifts to God. After an invitation from the celebrant, representatives of the congregation carry forward the bread, wine, and water used in the Communion. We also offer our monetary gifts that will be used to glorify God through our mission and ministry, and, often, food that will be used to help those in need. During the offertory, the deacon or a priest prepare the table with the elements to be used in communion The service then continues to the heart and center of liturgy, the Great Thanksgiving or Eucharistic Prayer. Our Prayer Book includes five different Eucharistic prayers, and many others are authorized for our use, some of which we use once a month at our 10AM service. While each of the prayers has a particular emphasis or style, they all share the same purpose to give thanks to God for the creation, redemption, and sanctification of the world. Immediately following the Great Amen of the Eucharistic Prayer is the Lord’s Prayer and Fraction. The Lord’s Prayer is the prayer Jesus offered to the disciples, and we use it in every service. The Fraction is the moment when the bread is broken: it serves as both a reminder of when Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper, and, metaphorically, of his sacrifice of his life for the redemption of the world. Next is the Invitation, “The Gifts of God for the People of God.” Traditionally, and officially, this is the moment when all baptized members are invited to come forward and receive the bread and cup. Saints James and Andrew is part of a movement within the Episcopal Church that believes that radical hospitality matters more than whether one is a baptized member. The belief being that if all are welcomed at God’s table, and experience being spiritually fed by Christ, they will in turn want to commit their lives to Christ in baptism. Here at James and Andrew, all are welcome to partake in Holy Communion. When you consume the bread given at communion, you have received communion in full. Those who may not want to receive communion are invited to come forward for a blessing from the priest. Chapter 4 After the altar party finishes communion and the Table is cleared, we share in the Post Communion Prayer. This is a prayer of thanksgiving that dates back to the fourth century and seeks God’s help for a life in Christ. After experiencing the mystery of the sacrament, the community is transitioning to going forth to participate in mission and ministry to the world. Next is the Blessing, said by a priest or bishop, pronouncing God’s love and favor upon the community. There are literally thousands of blessings! The very last part of the service is the Dismissal. The Latin phrase that describes this portion of the service translates to, “Go, it is the sending.” At this point, the worship service has ended, but our service as ministers of Christ is just beginning. We are to go into the world in the name of Christ. |
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