Climate change prayer

Holy God,
earth and air and water are your creation,
and every living thing belongs to you:
have mercy on us
as climate change confronts us.

Give us the will and the courage
    to simplify the way we live,
    to reduce the energy we use,
    to share the resources you provide,
    and to bear the cost of change.

Forgive our past mistakes and send us your Spirit,
    with wisdom in present controversies
    and vision for the future to which you call us
in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

©Anglican Church of Australia Trust Corporation. Used by permission This text may be reproduced for use in worship in the Anglican Church of Australia

On the impotence of reading the Bible

It's Epiphany. You can take down your Advent/Christmas decorations now.

And yes, the title says "impotence" not "importance". Let me explain.

In a recent post titled The impotence of the liturgical year Halden warns against getting too excited about the Christian calendar and what it might magically achieve if we aligned the temporal spaces of our lives with the rhythm of celebration, commemoration and anticipation traditionally marked through the church seasons and holy days. This critique may well be important for those coming from a tradition in which it is highly valued. But coming from a background where the only non-ordinary times were Easter and Christmas, a similar critique that might be more relevant in the circles with which I'm more familiar can be made of scriptural exposition as a magical activity that will guarantee discipleship and faithfulness amongst the flock. Simply reading and explaining the text does not by itself ensure well-formed Christian lives any more than using the right words or music can ensure that God is truly worshipped when we gather together. God indeed speaks through the pages of holy scripture, but the Spirit blows where he wills. God cannot be put in a box, or a book. Or a tomb - at least for long.

Now I am not against careful and passionate scriptural exposition, nor creative and faithful observance of a liturgical calendar, nor beautiful music and well-crafted language, but these are all fingers pointing at the moon. They are signs and are only of use insofar as they guide us to our destination: the living God revealed in Christ.

You don't eat the menu.

Enjoy the feast.

Sunday morning

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.
Is this your Sunday morning? The fact that you're grinning from recognition ("it's funny because it's true") shows that services like this are still liturgical, even if the pattern of worship is not written in a book for everyone to read.

Ode to Christ crucified

By the tree of the cross you have healed the bitterness of the tree,
     and have opened Paradise to humans. Glory be to you, Lord!
Now we are no longer prevented from coming to the tree of life;
     we have hope in your cross. Glory be to you, Lord!
O Immortal One, nailed to the wood,
     you have triumphed over the snares of the devil. Glory be to you, Lord!
You, who for my sake have submitted to being placed on the cross,
     accept my vigilant celebration of praise, O Christ, God, friend of humans.
Lord of the heavenly armies, who knows my carelessness of soul,
     save me by your cross O Christ, God, friend of humans.
Brighter than fire, more luminous than flame,
     have you shown the wood of your cross, O Christ.
Burn away the sins of the sick and enlighten the hearts of those who,
     with hymns, celebrate your voluntary crucifixion. Christ, God, glory to you!
Christ, God, who for us accepted a sorrowful crucifixion,
     accept all who sing hymns to your passion, and save us.

- from the Byzantine liturgy for Holy Friday

Holy Friday, also known as Good Friday in English speaking countries, is a very difficult event to remember rightly in common worship. There is so much to say, and yet silence and tears are often the most apt response. Sorrow and love flow mingled down.

For on this day the Gospel narrative reaches its climax and the narration slows to a snail's pace, or to the pace of a man stumbling under an impossibly heavy burden. It is at once darkest tragedy and yet, mysteriously, also deepest triumph. Here is sin and human failure. Here is death and hell and destruction. Here is one man's faithfulness, even in anguish. Here is damnation - and salvation.

Behold the man upon the cross! Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! Behold the Son, in whom the Father takes delight! Behold our death in his death! Behold our life in his unconquered love!

No mumbling the liturgy!

I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation;
    see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
I have not hidden your saving help within my heart,
    I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
    from the great congregation.

- Psalm 40.9-10, NRSV

I once visited a congregation which made frequent use of thoughtfully prepared congregational responses (often what people mean when they refer to a service as "liturgical"). I joined in reciting the responses in what I considered a regular voice, pitched for the size of the room and the number of people. As is often the case, many of the congregation spoke the lines almost under their breath. After the service, I was quietly admonished by one regular congregation member who informed me that he found my volume distracting. I realise that speaking together is a skill that can take some practice to work well, but I was somewhat at a loss at this response. Apparently, he wasn't commenting on my adopting an unusual rhythm or strange emphasis, merely the fact that others could hear what I said.

Communal responses, though often addressed to God in prayer, are just as frequently exhortations addressed to one another. I've always assumed that if we're going to use them (and I think they are excellent when done well, for all kinds of reasons), then we may as well not pussyfoot around. In such situations, I'm not just speaking to myself, or even to my neighbour, but am addressing (and hope to be addressed by) the congregation.

And so when the opportunity to speak of God's faithfulness and salvation amongst the congregation arises (whether in song, liturgical response, testimony, public prayer, scriptural reading or whatever), don't be shy. Open your lips and speak up!

Dirty and dusty

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, the season of preparation for Easter. From Ash Wednesday, there are forty days until Easter (excluding Sundays, which are always for celebrating the resurrection, not fasting).

In most liturgical services on this day, the sign of the cross using the ash from the previous year's Palm Sunday is made upon the foreheads of worshippers. It is called a sign of penitence and mortality. That is, it symbolises that we are both broken and dying, flawed and finite, fragmented and fragile, dirty and dusty.

As the mark is made, these words are spoken:

Remember, o man/woman/mortal, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Repent and believe the good news.

How to relate our mortality to our sinfulness is an important issue in Christian theology. Are we dying because we sin? Or do we sin because we are dying? Which is the more fundamental problem and how does the good news address each?

The Ash Wednesday quote above gives one way into this discussion. Notice that while both mortality and sinfulness are referenced, the appropriate response to each differs. We remember our mortality; we repent of our sins. Our mortality is not itself a fault, but part of our creaturely existence. We receive the breath of life, it is never ours to claim or secure, our life is always dependent upon a source beyond us. The call to remember this is the call to relinquish control over our deaths, to relinquish the demand that I must be kept alive at all costs, and so to discover the freedom that comes from giving space in my life to projects other than survival.

Yet we are to repent of our sins, to turn from our self-obsession and to discover joy (and pain) in meeting and loving others beyond the echo-chamber of the self. This repentance will make no sense unless it is accompanied, enabled and completed by believing the good news. Only the good news of the risen Jesus liberates us from the patterns of false behaviour that diminish our capacity for life and love. That is why the sign that is made in ash is that of a cross. The cross symbolises the good news of liberation: not liberation from being dust and ashes (the sign of the cross is itself made in ash and God's saving work amongst us in Christ was as dust and ashes), but freedom from guilt at our dirty lives, freedom from sin and its false dreams, freedom from despair and so freedom to be truly human.

On Ash Wednesday, Christians are marked as dirty and dusty, but the shame of the dirt and the frustration of the dust are placed within the hope of the cross.

Much more can be said on each of these topics, but let me finally introduce one further idea. While being exhorted to remember our mortality - that we will return to dust - we are also encouraged to remember our origin and identity- that we are dust. Like Adam, we are from and of the earth ('adamah in Hebrew). Being dusty means not only that our life is received as a gift, but that we exist as a member of the community of creation, in solidarity with the rest of the created order. Although we are often quick to lay claim to human uniqueness, part of lenten penitence is re-membering ourselves within this larger sphere. This is both dignity and frustration. Dignity because we too belong to the ordered material world over which God declared his blessing. Frustration because we share with all created things a present "bondage to decay". But our origin and destiny are bound together with the non-human world. Thus, to be smeared with cinders is to be humbled, and yet simultaneously to discover in that humility a properly human and creaturely glory.

Baptism: public or private?

Baptism by the Book (cont)
I've posted here, here and here on baptism recently, sparked by my daughter's baptism and by re-reading the baptism services in the English and Scottish prayer books from the 16th and 17th centuries.

My final post concerns the social location of the baptism service. And on this, all the prayer books agree. Here is part of the 1662 rubric:

The Minister of every parish shall warn the people that without great cause and necessity they procure not their children to be baptized at home in their houses. But when need shall compel them so to do, then Baptism shall be administered on this fashion: [...]

And the earlier prayer books were even more explicit, offering slight variations on this somewhat lengthy introduction to the topic found in the 1552 version:

It appeareth by auncient wryters, that the Sacramente of Baptisme in the olde tyme was not commonlye ministred but at two tymes in the yeare: at Easter and Whytsontyde. At which tymes it was openly ministred in the presence of all the congregacion: whiche custome (nowe being growen out of use) althoughe it cannot for many consideracions be well restored agayne, yet it is thoughte good to folowe the same as nere as conveniently may be: wherefore the people are to be admonished, that it is most conveniente that Baptisme should not be ministred but upon Sundayes, and other holy dayes, when the moste noumbre of people maye come together as well for that the congregacion there present may testifye the receyving of them, that be newely Baptysed, into the noumbre of Christes Churche, as also because in the Baptisme of infantes, every man present may be put in remembraunce of hys owne profession made to God in hys Baptisme. For whyche cause also, it is expediente that Baptisme be ministred in the Englishe tongue. Neverthelesse (yf necessitie so requyre) chyldren maye at all tymes be Baptized at home.

I'm sure that reading that did you good and has helped your grasp of the Englishe tongue!

Note three things. First, the text recalls ancient custom and treats it as a guide to be followed. It does not feel the need to dump every practice not explicitly found in Scripture (as per the regulative principle of worship found in some versions of Protestantism). Yet neither is ancient custom to be preserved exactly for its own sake. It is able to develop over time. Some things have growen out of use and cannot easily be well restored agayne. But the principles behind it are to be understood, adopted and adapted since it is thoughte good to folowe the same as nere as conveniently may be. So, while baptisms are not to be confined to Easter and Whytsontyde [Whitsunday = Pentecost], the principle that they are best to be held in the public gathering of the church (when the moste noumbre of people maye come together) still holds. However, many baptisms today are essentially private ceremonies held before or after the main services on Sunday, or on other days of the week, where only family and perhaps some close friends are present. Why is this a problem?

Second, therefore, let us therefore consider the two reasons for public baptism offered by the text: so that the congregation present can testify to the receiving of the child into the number of Christ's church; and so that all baptised believers present might be reminded of their own baptismal vows. In other words, baptism has meaning beyond the individual candidate and his or her relationship with God. It is a sign for the church, a public welcome of the newly washed person into the household of faith. This one is now a sister or brother and to be welcomed and treated as such. And it is a reminder of each Christian's own profession of faith, a reminder that can be very powerful and encouraging, even confronting, as once again each believer has to turn to Christ and reject all that is evil (a similar thing happens at weddings, where all the married members of the congregation are reminded of the challenge and joy of their own vows). Baptism therefore has a social (or rather, ecclesial) as well as a personal meaning. To displace the baptismal service from the context of the congregation and perform it in private for a smaller circle of family and close friends obscures or misplaces this significance.

Third, however, all the prayer books have two versions of infant baptism: the normal one for public baptism in a church and a second one for use in private houses in tyme of necessity. Although it is best for baptism to occur amidst the gathered congregation, it is possible for it legitimately to be performed elsewhere in an emergency. Thus, a sick infant who is likely to die before Sunday (or an adult convert too ill to attend church) may receive an emergency baptism "on the spot". The 1604 and 1662 versions indicate this still ought to be done by a minister, but the earlier books simply say that whoever is present can perform the rite. This concession implies that the horizontal or social meanings of baptism are secondary to its primary reference, which is the relation between the candidate and God. Even if the candidate is unable to be welcomed by the full church, baptism still functions as a sign of God's cleansing and renewing love and as a pledge of the candidate's lifelong loyalty to Christ, however short that life may be. Of course, if the newly baptised candidate ends up surviving, then there is also provision for the secondary horizontal meanings of baptism to function in a service that announces and publicly recognises the baptism.

And let them not doubt, but that the Child so baptized is lawfully and sufficiently baptized, and ought not to be baptized again. Yet nevertheless, if the Child, which is after this sort baptized, do afterward live, it is expedient that it be brought into the Church, to the intent that [...] the Congregation may be certified of the true form of Baptism [...].
And if the Minister shall find by the answers of such as bring the Child, that all things were done as they ought to be; then shall not he christen the Child again, but shall receive him as one of the flock of true Christian people [...]

So don't hide the light of baptism under a basket, but put it on a stand so that it can give light to the whole house. Don't deny your brothers and sisters the blessings they receive from witnessing a baptism, or deny the candidate the blessings of a public baptism amongst the congregation.

Baptism: early or late?

Baptism by the Book (cont)
As mentioned in my previous post, my daughter's recent baptism gave me an excuse (not that one is ever really needed) to re-read "The Ministration of Publick Baptism of Infants" in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. As one does, I also wanted to compare this service with the earlier prayer books of 1549, 1552, 1559 and 1604 (and the Scottish prayer book of 1637). All of these earlier texts included a very interesting paragraph regarding the timing of the baptism.

In my experience, infants are often (usually?) baptised once they are at least a couple of months old. This allows time for godparents to be selected and asked, family members invited and for an occasion to be made of the event. All this can be a fun and joyful celebration of new life, sometimes with informal festivities continuing after the service over a meal. Indeed, we did all this, though being in Scotland, only managed to get one of three godparents and one family member from each side to come and join us. Partially, we picked our timing based on when those family members could be here, and since we didn't want to wait too long, having the baptism exactly a month after the birth seemed appropriate (and means that we now have an alternative date for birthday celebrations if Christmas Eve tends to overshadow things).

However, in all the prayer books prior to 1662, some version of this rubric appeared:

The pastours amd curates shall oft admonyshe the people, that they differ [defer] not the Baptisme of infantes any longer then the Sondaye, or other holy daye, nexte after the chylde bee borne, onlesse upon a great and reasonable cause declared to the curate and by hym approved.

In other words, unless you have a very good excuse, it is best for your child to be baptised on the first Sunday (or other holy day (e.g. Christmas)) after birth. No mucking around here!

I will discuss the reason behind this in a little more detail in my next and final post on "Baptism by the Book". But the short answer is that when it comes to baptism, church family trumps blood family. No waiting until great aunt Gertrude can make it up from the farm; the child is welcomed immediately by and into the congregational family at their next major gathering. And this makes good sense. If children are to be welcomed into the household of God so that they are always raised within the Christian faith (as the practice of baptising infant baptism implies), then to be consistent, this baptismal welcome should occur as soon as possible. Why then wait until Sunday? Why not baptise on the day of birth? The answer to that will be in my final post.

Therefore, resolve to make your arrangements for a baptismal celebration prior to the birth. Expectant parents often spend hours researching prams and selecting nursery colours. Why not also (instead?) put some time into making preparations for the child's spiritual growth? Settle your conscience on the good gift of infant baptism. Meet with your priest or minister to discuss any concerns and to ensure you understand what baptism means and how it will work. Think about godparents early (and remember, godparenting is not primarily a chance to honour your closest friends, but a responsibility for those who will be faithful in prayer and example, taking the lead in discharging the duty and privilege of the whole church family in raising a new child in the faith and love of Christ). Check your church has a font or pool large enough for the infant to be dipped into. Have your child baptised at the first service available after their birth. And read your prayer book.

For whom are we disrobing?

"The reason we eschewed formality in church services was because that was what WE on the inside wanted (or some of us, anyway) - the missiological reason was in fact only a justification for it."

Michael ponders the current reasons for anti-formality in some Sydney Anglican churches. Go on over to his post to contribute to the energetic and interesting discussion.

O'Donovan on reading

Reading is the act which opens us to the voice of Jesus’s witnesses, and so to history, to the world, and to the empty tomb at the world’s centre. Reading should be the core moment in all our liturgy, the heartbeat that gives life to the sacraments, the preaching and the prayers. Reading should be at the focal point of our church buildings, so that what we see first is not an altar, not a pulpit, but a lectern. Reading should be the lifeblood of our preaching, so that every new sermon we compose springs from a study of the Scripture that is for us as though for the first time, new, vital, surprising. Reading must be the rhythm of our life, the daily beat of the Gospel which gives order to the flurry of undertakings all around it. Reading schools us in self-denial and flexibility, emptying out the imaginations of self-generated visions and filling us with the thoughts of others. Reading accepts the divine violence upon the world that has given us life, but offers no violence back to the messengers through whom the news of that life comes to us.

Oliver O'Donovan, "Saint Mark, violence, and the discipline of reading: a sermon"

I am astonished when church services are confined to a single short reading to make more time for preaching (or singing, or coffee). This usually means the congregation rarely hears the Old Testament and what it does receive frequently lacks much context. Worse is when a "reading" from an extra-scriptural source is regularly substituted for the Bible. I am all for introducing congregations to the riches of Christian thought through the ages, but not as a substitute for Scripture. Using a lectionary makes more and more sense to me as a liturgical discipline of regular, systematic, extended engagement with the actual words of Scripture.
Thanks to Æ for posting this sermon. He also points out that a book of O’Donovan’s sermons, “The Word in Small Boats”, will be published by Eerdmans in the northern Spring of 2009.

This is my body...

I've been pondering recently the words of administration used in Communion/Eucharist/Lord's Supper services when the elements are served to the communicants. I'm no sacramentologist or liturgical historian and don't really want to get into debates about real presence, however, a little piece of liturgical history might help give some context for those unfamiliar with such debates.

In his 1549 Book of Common Prayer, the first of its kind in English, Anglican Reformer Archbishop Cranmer instructed that these words be used by the minister "when he delivereth the Bread/Cup to anyone":

The body/blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given/shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life.

These words are often read as referring to the identity of the elements so that (in some "physical" sense) the bread is Christ's body and the wine is his blood. However, notice that Cranmer's words are ambiguous. Taking the form of a prayer, they simply petition God for the preservation of the communicant's salvation (notice too the good resurrection theology implied in body and soul) through the broken body and shed blood of Christ. Nothing is said explicitly here about the status of the elements, leaving open a variety of different understandings about the relationship between the bread and wine being consumed and the body and blood which save.

By the 1552 edition of the prayer book, Archbishop Cranmer replaced the words of administration with this formula:

Take and eat this, in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving. ... Drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

The feeding upon Christ is now explicitly in thy heart and by faith. Notice again, however, that nothing is said explicitly about the status of the elements.

Part of Cranmer's genius in both formulations is to shift our attention from the status of the elements to the meaning of the act of eating them. This meaning is tied in with Christ's saving work in his death; to speak of shed blood and a broken body make a closer reference to the narrative of Christ's passion than simply mentioning body and blood.

In 1559, after Cranmer's execution, a third English prayer book was approved by Elizabeth I. The words of administration were simply a combination of 1549 and 1552:

The body of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life; and take and eat this, in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving. ... The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life; and drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

It's quite a mouthful, but it was this form that was picked up and used again in the definitive 1662 Book of Common Prayer, which continued to be the standard until a series of liturgical revisions across the Anglican communion in the twentieth century.

In Scotland, the words of administration were revised a number of time. In 1929, they were pared back to just the 1549 words, then a further revision in 1970 added this instruction: After the Words of Administration the Communicant shall answer Amen. The Words of Administration may be shortened at the discretion of the Priest. And then in 1982 (the current form still in use), a decisive shift occurred:

The Body/Blood of Christ given/shed for you.

Notice not only the capitals, but more importantly, the grammatical shift from petition to exclamation. No longer is a prayer being offered for the preservation of the communicant's salvation through Christ's passion. Instead, a nominal phrase (without a main verb) is substituted, which has the function of directing attention back to the elements themselves. More or less, these words say "Wow!" or "Look!".

However, having been to a number of communion services here in Scotland, I've noticed in both Scottish Episcopalian (Anglican) and Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) gatherings that even the narrative reference to "giving" and "shedding" are dropped, leaving simply the Roman Catholic words, which are short and to the point:

The body/blood of Christ.

The Word became flesh: looking again at Jesus VII

A sermon from John 1.1-14: Part VII
Verses 9-13 then give us a condensed version of the plot of the rest of the Gospel. It’s like the trailer, giving us glimpses into what is to come in the main feature.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.

This story seems to be a tragedy. The source of all that is going unrecognised, unthanked, unreceived. The creator entering his creation and being overlooked. The director walking on set and being ignored. But in the end, it will not be a tragedy. The ignorance is not total, the distraction is not universal. Some recognise him, believe in him, are welcomed into the conversation as loved children.

As readers, the pressure is on: are we going to recognise him? John is making sure we’re given plenty of warning. We face a strange situation: in the pages of this text we are to meet the one who is the light of all people, who gives light to everyone, who is the source of life and through whom all things were made, and yet, who ordinary enough to be missed. The single most amazing figure in history, but blink and you might miss him.

How is this possible? It’s as though people were walking around outside in broad daylight and didn’t notice the sun shining in their faces. The very light that enables them to see is almost too bright to look at directly. They don’t want to look at the light.

A few chapters further in, John has an even stronger explanation of how people can miss the sun shining in their faces: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. All those who do evil hate the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But those who live by the truth come into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God. (John 3.19b-21)

Light doesn’t just illuminate, bringing warmth and the possibility of life. Light also exposes. To keep reading, trying to gain a fresh look at Jesus, might not only mean being dazzled, but it might uncover things we’d rather stayed hidden. Talking with God, being addressed by his Word, having his light shine on you is dangerous. Very dangerous. Much safer to stay in the dark. Much safer to close the book, to walk away. Is your life comfortable? It will be easier if you stop coming to church. Or if you do keep coming, then better make sure Jesus stays safely familiar as a friend, or securely distant as an inspiring historical figure. Try not to take his words too seriously, because he lived in a different culture don’t forget. Don’t pay too much attention; don’t become fanatical. Cultivate a healthy cynicism. Make sure there are always excuses to not get too involved. If you want to keep your feet on the ground, then please ensure that you don’t try reading the Bible for yourself, you don’t make more than small talk at morning tea, stick to people you know, treat the liturgy as a nice ritual, the songs as a chance to stretch your legs, the confession as a vague generality, communion as just a beautiful quiet moment. Really, it’s much safer for everyone that way. Don’t open the door, it’s much nicer in the dark and we don’t have to face one another. We don’t have to be honest with ourselves. We can avoid hearing God’s unsettling query: where are you?

Plato allegedly once said, “We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”
Series: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII; VIII; IX; X.

Tenebrae

Tonight we had our Tenebrae (shadows) service for Maundy Thursday. The service is a quiet reflective time and is composed of an opening reading of John 13 (Jesus washing the disciples' feet and the new commandment to love), confession, communion, the greeting of peace, a few hymns and then a series of seven readings that move through the descending 'shadows' into which Jesus walked following his last supper: the shadow of betrayal (Matthew 26.20-25), the shadow of inner agony (Luke 22.39-44), the shadow of loneliness (Matthew 26.40-45), the shadow of desertion (Matthew 26.47-50, 55-56), the shadow of accusation (Matthew 26.59-67), the shadow of mockery (Mark 15. 12-20), the shadow of death (Luke 23.33-46). The space is lit by eight candles, and at the end of each of the readings, one is extinguished. With one candle remaining, a solo reflection is sung ("Come see the beauty of the Lord"). The service ends with a final reading of John 1.1-4:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all people.

The final candle is then extinguished and we end in silence and darkness, waiting and walking out alone: the light of the world slain.This afternoon, I also met with an Orthodox friend with whom I read the scriptures. I gave him a Bible for Easter (since he only had a New Testament, in an old translation; his English is good but not excellent). Unexpectedly, he also gave me a present: Services of Holy Week by the Antiochian Orthodox Archdiocese of Australia and New Zealand. This 415-page tome contains the liturgy and readings simply for one week's worth of services (admittedly, not just any week!) and is a rich source of theological reflections and expressions of faith and hope. Jessica and I read through the service for the evening of Holy Thursday (much longer than our Tenebrae service!), and here are a few of the many highlights:

Today* he who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the tree. The king of the angels is decked with a crown of thorns. He, who wrapped the heavens in clouds, is wrapped with the purple of mockey.
[...]
Because of a tree, Adam was estranged from Paradise. Because of the wood of the cross, the thief abode in Paradise. For the former, in tasting, disobeyed the commandment of the Creator; but the latter, who was crucified with You, confessed, admitting to You, the concealed God. O Saviour; remember also us, in your kingdom.
[...]
Your life-bearing side, O Christ, overflows like a spring from Eden, watering your Church and making it a living Paradise; then dividing the glad tidings into four Gospels, as headwaters, it irrigates the world, gladdening creation, and teaching the Gentiles to adore your kingdom in faith.
[...]
All creation, O Christ, beholding your crucifixion, trembled. The foundations of the earth were shaken for dread of your might; the lights of the firmament went into hiding; the veil of the temple was rent; the mountains quaked; and the rocks burst asunder, as the believing thief cries out with us to You: "O Saviour, remember us!"
[...]
Every member of your holy body endured dishonour for us. Your head, the thorns; your face, the spittings; your cheeks, the smitings; your mouth, the taste of vinegar mixed with gall; your ears, the impious blasphemies; your back, the lash; your hand, the reed; your whole body, stretched out on the cross; your joints, the nails; and your side, the spear. O Almighty Saviour, who in your mercy condescended to suffer for us, and set us free from suffering, having raised us up, have mercy on us.

*Unlike how most westerners mark time, this liturgy assumes that a day ends (and so begins) at sunset, so this service is actually the start of Holy (or Good) Friday.
Twelve points for guessing why this picture is inappropriate for a post on a Tenebrae service.

Hauerwas on liturgy

"One reason why we Christians argue so much about which hymn to sing, which liturgy to follow, which way to worship is that the commandments teach us to believe that bad liturgy eventually leads to bad ethics. You begin by singing some sappy, sentimental hymn, then you pray some pointless prayer, and the next thing you know you have murdered your best friend."

— Stanley Hauerwas, The Truth About God:
The Ten Commandments in Christian Life, p.89.
H/T Alistair.

The alternative to a liturgical service is not a non-liturgical service. It is a service where the liturgy is entrusted to the whims and idiosyncrasies of the service leader. When done poorly, liturgy from a book can be cold, lifeless and boring. When done poorly, 'non-liturgical' liturgy can be vapid, misleading and deadly.

Around the web

Do you suffer from Bono fatigue? H/T Drew.

Review of the first Mac back in 1984. Amazing how many of the innovations are now standard across the board. H/T CraigS.

An intriguing stunt by the Washington Post: Pearls before breakfast. What would happen if "one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made" were to try busking in a busy Washington D.C. train station? The article is long, but well written. H/T Benjamin Ady.

Popular evangelical liturgy as recorded by Chrisendom.

How to get from NYC to London. Don't skip step #24. H/T Daniel Kirk.

Pannenberg on Christology

   Jesus possesses significance “for us” only to the extent that this significance is inherent in himself, in his history, in his person constituted by this history. Only when this can be shown may we be sure that we are not merely attaching our questions, wishes, and thoughts to this figure.
   Therefore, Christology, the question about Jesus himself, … must remain prior to all questions about his significance, to all soteriology. Soteriology must follow from Christology, not vice versa. Otherwise, faith in salvation itself loses any real foundation.

- Wolfhart Pannenberg, Jesus: God and Man (London: SCM, 1968 [1964]), 48.

I'm preparing a sermon this Sunday on the two natures of Christ as part of a short theological series on the creed (mainly Apostles, though with reference to Nicene as well). I'd love to hear any questions or comments or quotes or insights people have (particularly since I'm feeling especially tired this week). What do you think are the important things to say? My passages are John 1.1-18 and Hebrews 1.1-4, 2.5-18.

What I believe

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
   creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord,
   who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
   born of the Virgin Mary,
   suffered under Pontius Pilate,
   was crucified, died and was buried;
   he descended to the dead.
   On the third day he rose from the dead;
   he ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father;
   from there he will come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
   the holy catholic Church,
   the communion of saints,
   the forgiveness of sins,
   the resurrection of the body,
   and the life everlasting. Amen.

***************

We believe in one God,
   the Father, the Almighty,
   maker of heaven and earth,
   of all that is, seen and unseen.
We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
   the only Son of God,
   eternally begotten of the Father,
   God from God, Light from Light,
   true God from true God,
   begotten not made,
   of one being with the Father;
   through him all things were made.
   For us and for our salvation
   he came down from heaven,
   was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary
   and became truly human.
   For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
   he suffered death and was buried.
   On the third day he rose again
   in accordance with the Scriptures;
   he ascended into heaven
   and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
   He will come again in glory to judge
   the living and the dead
   and his kingdom will have no end.
We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
   who proceeds from the Father (and the Son),
   who with the Father and the Son
   is worshipped and glorified,
   who has spoken through the prophets.
   We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
   We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
   We look for the resurrection of the dead,
   and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Liturgy

Alastair has a fascinating post on liturgy. He links liturgical language with a belief in justification by faith, since even the words we use to approach God are not our own. An articulate and thought-provoking post.

UPDATE: Here is another interesting rant about liturgy.