Manual acts

Now that I have carefully studied all the standard liturgical guides, observed four current or former professors of liturgics in Episcopal seminaries celebrate the Eucharist, and sat at the feet of all sorts and conditions of ceremonialists, I can say without fear of contradiction that there is no authoritative statement about the manual acts of the Eucharistic president that is not vigorously opposed by some equally weighty authority.

And the whole thing is a minefield. An option stigmatized by one authority as "Broad Church" -- and I certainly don't want to be that! -- is recommended by several authorities as normative. Half the stuff I want to do is generally regarded as "fussy" -- no surprise there -- but a bunch of stuff I think is fussy or precious or too "let's pretend we're reenacting the Last Supper" is recommended by nearly everyone.

I'm very tempted simply to identify the celebrant whose sense and sensibility I most respect and just do what he does.

Some questions, if anyone cares to weigh in:

(1) For the opening dialogue, do I
(a) do the swoop, lift, bow trifecta?
(b) maintain the hands-folded-before-the-chest position throughout?
(c) do something else?

(2) At the name of Jesus, do I
(a) incline the head and join the hands?
(b) incline the head but maintain the orans position?
(c) enjoy an inward frisson of reverence but make no outward acknowledgment?

(3) During the Institution Narrative, do I
(a) touch the elements but leave them on the altar?
(b) hold the paten/chalice just slightly above the altar?
(c) hold the paten/chalice at chest (or even eye) level?

And if I'm holding them, do I hold them with both hands or leave one hand free for a sort of half-orans posture denoting blessing/thanksgiving?

(4) At the Fraction, do I
(a) break the bread on the paten and then raise it?
(b) break the bread over the chalice?
(c) break the bread in midair and hope for the best?

That's enough to get me started, I think.

If you'll excuse me, I have to put in a call to Father McSpikerson.

More rejoicing

There are still formalities to be observed and paperwork to be filled out, but I do now have the assurance that I am in compliance with the requirement of Canon III.8.7(e) that "No Deacon shall be ordained to the Priesthood until having been appointed to serve in a Parochial Cure within the jurisdiction of this Church . . . or with other opportunity for the exercise of the office of Priest within the Church judged appropriate by the Bishop."

Could I find a wonkier, more legalistic way to say that? Doubtful.

Thanks be to God.

Thanks for the green-light from my brace of bishops, I mean, not for my wonkiness and canon-quoting habits.

Sermon for Proper 28, Year A

Click here for the audio.

People who are on my list

• the former graduate-student colleague of mine who asked me, as a favor, to review his soon-to-be-published translation of a bit of rather florid seventeenth-century Latin and, after I had spent three hours sorting out the lavish mess that he had made of it, offered only the most perfunctory thanks
• the several students who submitted revised papers that still contained multiple errors I had corrected on their first drafts
• the heating-and-air-conditioning people who came out yesterday for the third time to fix the same problem, and, after making us wait for several days to fix it, made us wait less than twelve hours for it to come unfixed

Feeling my way forward

I met with Fr Mike after church yesterday. He wants to put me on staff at Saint Luke's as a non-stipendiary priest. I think this is a fabulous idea. I would much rather be more or less assigned to a parish than float around doing supply work or guest-preaching hither and yon. I'm a Benedictine, not a Dominican. I suspect the Bishop of My Sojourn may prove to be a bit skittish about it, though. Fr Mike is going to run it past the Bishop first, and then I'll follow up with an appointment.

We also talked about preaching. Fr Mike had given me some very helpful suggestions after my last sermon, not only putting his finger on what I myself had been somewhat dissatisfied with but also proposing some quite well-tailored remedies. I think we both saw some of the fruit of those suggestions in yesterday's sermon, which was gratifying.

Now if only I could be in peak form at both services. My pace was better at the early service, but my tempo was better at the main service. (I'm relying here on a distinction from my theater days, which I may be misremembering, between pace, which was the speed with which individual lines were delivered, and tempo, which was the speed with one actor's speech followed another's.) I have to correct for a tendency to speak a bit more quickly at the second service, keeping in mind that the congregation is hearing it all for the first time even though the preacher isn't. Also, as Fr Mike noted, the first sermon was better as performance, but the second was better as an engagement with the congregation. That's why the tempo was better in the second service: I felt comfortable "taking a beat" here and there, letting a key point breathe a bit, because I knew they were with me. The congregation at the earlier service is, shall we say, less overtly responsive than the later folks.

Audio will probably follow, for those who can't get enough of the parable of the talents.

Sermon Mad Lib

I need a good way to end this sentence:

"Well I'm here to tell you that the Left Behind books are about as Scriptural as ____________."

I would prefer something funny, immediately recognizable, and non-salacious. Any thoughts?

Index verborum prohibitorum

I hereby resolve not to use the word 'eschatological', or any cognate thereof, in Sunday's sermon, despite the lectionary's clear invitation to do so.

If only I were a liturgist, Part Two

And had a time machine -- I never saw this advertised on the American Academy of Religion site, but it's up on General's website. So even if I were a liturgist, I'd be too late. It's a shame, really, since I'm sure they would have been fascinated by the innovative diaconocentric liturgical theories that I have been developing lately.

PROFESSOR OF LITURGICS The General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church seeks applicants of demonstrated competence for the position of Professor of Liturgics. The position is open to all ranks and may be offered as tenure-track or with tenure. Applicants must demonstrate teaching ability and must be expert in the historical, theological and practical aspects of Anglican liturgics. Competence in a second academic field is welcome. Responsibilities include teaching at the M.Div., M.A., S.T.M., and Th.D. levels; and faculty committee work, and participation in the seminary's liturgical and formational life. Holding a degree of Th.D., Ph.D. or an equivalent is required. Women and minorities are encouraged to apply. The appointee will take up duties on July 1, 2009. Preliminary interviews will take place at the Annual Meeting of the AAR in Chicago, November 1-3, 2008. Please send application letter, CV, and three recommendation letters by October 15, 2008 to: Chair, Liturgics Search Committee, General Seminary, 175 Ninth Ave., New York, NY 10011.

And even more seminary hiring

They do realize, don't they, that all this junior hiring does me no good whatsoever.

University of the South, School of Theology

Church History

FACULTY POSITION IN CHURCH HISTORY

The School of Theology of the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, an accredited seminary of the Episcopal Church, invites applications for a full-time, tenure-track, junior faculty position in Church History, to begin in July 2009. In addition to responsibility for the field as a whole, the ability to teach the history of Anglicanism is important. A research specialization in the history of the Episcopal Church, patristics, or the early modern English church will be regarded as an advantage.

Responsibilities will include teaching required and elective courses in the history of Christianity from the second through the twenty-first century, primarily in the M.Div. and M.A. degree programs; participating in other degree and lifetime education programs; and scholarly publication. The position also brings with it a range of engagement in the worship, work, and witness of the seminary community, and service to the university as a whole. The successful candidate will demonstrate commitment to preparation of students for parish ministry.

Qualifications for the position include demonstrated professional competence in teaching church history and active commitment to the mission of the church. A knowledge of and appreciation for the Anglican tradition is necessary, and an Episcopal priest is preferred. The strongest candidates will have a Ph.D. (or equivalent) in hand by the time of appointment, although advanced ABD candidates nearing completion of the dissertation may be considered. Salary and rank will depend on experience and qualifications. Episcopal clergy, women, and minorities are particularly encouraged to apply.

The University of the South, an institution of the Episcopal Church, comprises a selective liberal arts college in addition to the School of Theology. The University is situated on a 13,000-acre expanse of forested campus.

The University provides equal employment opportunity to all employees and applicants for employment. No person shall be discriminated against in employment because of race, color, sex, age, national origin, sexual orientation, disability, veteran’s status, or religion (except for those positions in the School of Theology and the chaplain’s office where religious affiliation is a necessary qualification). Eligibility for employment at the University is contingent upon satisfactory completion of a background investigation.

A letter of application, a full curriculum vitae, a writing sample, university transcripts, and three letters of reference should be sent directly to: The Rev. Dr. James F. Turrell, Associate Dean for Academic Affairs, School of Theology, University of the South, 335 Tennessee Avenue, Sewanee, TN 37383-0001. The position will remain open until it is filled, but applications received by December 15, 2008 will be assured of full consideration.

It's that time again

I'm beginning to get my seasonal uptick of hits from folks googling "Ember Days." (It always troubles me that so many of these come from our seminaries. Prayer Books, people!) So here goes:

The next Ember Days are the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following the Third Sunday of Advent: December 17, 19, and 20.

Now if only one could think of some fitting way to celebrate this milestone

It is difficult to believe that Anglicanism, nay, that even the Episcopal Church itself, predates the gin & tonic, which turns 150 this year.

Scenes from a wedding

The Canon Residentiary finds me an alb and stole. It's a priest's stole -- the previous Bishop, I'm told, "didn't believe in deacons" -- and when worn over the left shoulder the stiff seam in the middle stands well up from my shoulder, giving me a sort of Linda-Evans-on-Dynasty look that will no doubt be all the rage in the next Almy catalogue. When the reverend bridegroom sees it, he tries valiantly to mitigate the effect, but there's only so much one can do.

*****

I'm in a reminiscing mood. I have some connections to the Cathedral, having worshiped there a few times as an undergraduate when I wasn't on duty as organist at the campus Episcopal chapel. I even took organ lessons there from the choirmaster, although both the organ and the choirmaster have been replaced since then. I tell one of the staff members that I don't remember the Cathedral being so beautiful twenty years ago, and she explains everything that has been done over the past few years to make the interior glorious.

*****

The liturgical procession begins. I've left my service booklet in the sacristy so that I will have my hands free for bishop's-chaplainy tasks. The Bishop asks how I'll manage the processional hymn. I tell him that if I can't sing "Love divine, all loves excelling" from memory at this point, I'm in real trouble.

*****

The thurifer is the nephew of the Bishop of My Sojourn. The Episcopal Church can be a very, very small place.

*****

As we process, I catch sight of a Sewanee prof. "Oh, how nice to see Bob Hughes here," I think. It's only after the service that I think, "Crap, I still owe him a paper."

*****

The choir sings Rene Clausen's "Set Me As a Seal" as the bride enters.

She is arrestingly beautiful.

*****

For the first time in my short diaconal career, the Gospel procession is perfectly timed -- thank you, verger -- and I'm not left standing in the aisle for a couple of stanzas trying to look extra-pious. The thurifer, bless his ritualist heart, believes in lots of smoke, and the Gospel book gets well-censed. I've pitched the Gospel a little higher than is entirely comfortable, partly because I'm an idiot and partly because I can project better that way. (I'm doing without a microphone because I'm fairly loud and besides, I always have such trouble getting my hand through the alb and into my pocket to turn the mic on.) I try to remember that breathing thing you're supposed to do, and it all works out pretty well.

*****

The Bishop and I trade various liturgical and para-liturgical items: mitre, service booklet, reading glasses. I surprise myself by managing to hold his glasses and turn pages for him at the same time without dropping anything. This may well be the first time in my life I've shown even a hint of manual dexterity when not seated at a keyboard.

*****

My friends are married, and the mass is ended. I give the dismissal, but it's really Charles-Marie Widor who gives energy and joy to our going forth.

*****

Congratulations, Jared and Bethany! May God bless you richly in your new life together. And thank you so much for allowing me to play a part in the celebration of your marriage.

A prophecy

From today's Office readings:

When he put on his glorious robe and clothed himself with superb perfection and went up to the holy altar, he made the court of the sanctuary glorious.

This is obviously a prophecy of my participation in this weekend's wedding festivities.

On the lamentable decline in the quality of my Calvinists

There are certain topics we cover in Philosophy of Religion for which it is very helpful to have at least one convinced Calvinist in the room -- a good Calvinist really livens up the discussion and saves me the trouble of having to pose (for pedagogical purposes) as a defender of views that I find to be lacking in all plausibility.

It is therefore distressing to note that the quality of my Calvinists is steadily declining.

Two semesters ago my designated Calvinist was one of the brightest guys in the room, always eager to speak, and always worth listening to. He arguments were imaginative, bordering on quirky, and indeed occasionally outright perverse. Plus, though this of course is irrelevant, he was attractive and charming.

Last semester my designated Calvinist was not particularly a delight to the eyes, but he was certainly bright. In discussion he was tenacious and dogged, analytically skillful but not particularly imaginative (rather like me, actually).

This semester my designated Calvinist is with me only about half the time, and hopelessly muddled the other half.

I do not look forward to what God's eternal decree has in store for me next time around.

Groan

Here is the full text of an e-mail I received this morning (modified in the usual way to preserve my semi-pseudonymity):

Mr. Postulant,

I'm e-mailing you to ask if there is a way i could make up the test i missed on teus.

And the reply I won't send:

Dear Ms D'Urberville:

Allow me to explain how one makes a special request of a professor in an e-mail.

First, one signs one's name.

Second, one uses standard English spelling and capitalization and spells out words in full.

Third, one addresses the professor as "Prof." or "Dr.," as appropriate, rather than as "Mr." (As it happens, I prefer "Mr." to "Dr." on obscure reverse-snobbery grounds; but you had no way of knowing that, and I am speaking here of general rules rather than their occasional and unknowable exceptions.)

And fourth, one offers a justification for one's request, so that the professor has some reason to accommodate it -- particularly when one's class attendance and performance on previous work do not support the idea that one is ordinarily a conscientious student.

Sincerely,
The Postulant

Aargh!

Could these tears for ever flow

I am a pretty even-tempered guy, capable of fierce attachment to those I love, but not given to many emotional highs or lows, flashes of hot anger or periods of sadness. The diocesan psychologist described me as emotionally repressed, though the Bishop informed me afterwards that he describes everyone as emotionally repressed.

That said, I sure am getting choked up a lot these days. Preparing my sermon for All Souls' Day I repeatedly felt that stinging in the eyes that presages tears. I did manage to deliver the sermon itself without incident, but then at the altar, as my finger moved slowly down the page, keeping the Celebrant's place in the Prayer of Humble Access, a rush of holy joy robbed me of my voice.

Finally, after a long but gratifying weekend interviewing job candidates and participating in splendid liturgy, I sat in the airport, ready to head home. It was my first chance to look at the anthem that was commissioned for my ordination. I took it out of my briefcase and began to read, imagining the voices and organ and violin.

And some time around "Here is joy that drowneth quite your delight," the tears began to flow.

Sermon for All Souls' Day

Last night Saint Swithin's offered a solemn Eucharist in commemoration of All Faithful Departed. The liturgy was Rite One, the readings (including John 6:37-40) were from the Authorized Version [update: audio of the Gospel here, with congregational responses from various rites], and the mass setting was a 16th-century Missa pro defunctis, beautifully sung by a choir of parishioners and ringers from the university's School of Music. That's the context in which I preached the sermon that follows [update: audio of the sermon here].

*****

I speak to you in the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

The liturgy is not a museum piece, but it is a family heirloom.

I heard that from a liturgics professor at one of our seminaries, and it stuck.

The liturgy is not a museum piece, but it is a family heirloom.

I think about that this evening as we reach back to music and liturgy that are centuries old in order to worship God and thank him for all the faithful departed. We celebrate this family occasion – a kind of family reunion, really, though most of the family isn’t able to be present in any way that we can really recognize – we celebrate it by bringing out the old family heirlooms, not for show, but to put them to the use for which they were always intended: to glorify God and to give us a foretaste of his glory.

I think too about the people we are remembering – the family members, the friends, the stranger once encountered who became an instrument of grace and was never to be forgotten thereafter. What are we to say about them?

I once heard a priest complain about the expression "I’m sorry for your loss." "Loss?" He said this with indignation. "Loss? The very idea that those who have died are lost makes me so mad I could spit." It’s probably not a good idea to get this worked up over a merely conventional expression, but theologically of course he’s completely right:

I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that sent
me. And this is the Father’s will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath
given me I should lose nothing.

My particular hobbyhorse, though, is a different one. I get it from my students a good deal when I teach about immortality and the resurrection of the body. "They live on in our memories." Oh, how I hate that! If you want to call that "living on" – as though that wispy, fitful, tenuous, and entirely passive existence could count as "living," except as a metaphor.

And the life of the world to come is no metaphor, no shadow, no image. It is the real thing, of which this life is a kind of metaphor, a sort of wispy, fitful, and tenuous shadow cast by the fullness of life that we will enjoy when we dwell with God in light inaccessible.

This is not in any way to denigrate the life we now live, for this life is precious; but we lose this precious life only to gain one that is far more precious, so surpassingly wonderful that it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive. Think, if this helps you, of the words and the music of our worship this evening: not the words and music as spoken and sung, but just the letters on the page, the notes on the score. They are just black marks on paper – until they are made alive by voices and pipes and the enkindled affections of human hearts. Just black marks: and yet even in that state, would we not grieve to lose them? And would not a liturgist rejoice to discover the words of an old rite? Would not a musician delight to unearth a new score?

Precious and joyful and full of delight are these marks on a page, but how much more precious are they when they are given breath and life and a holy dwelling-place by voices and pipes and the enkindled affections of human hearts. And in the same way, precious and joyful and full of delight are the lives that we now live by faith in the Son of God, who loved us and gave himself for us. But these lives are as an unread manuscript and an unsung score to that far more precious life in which we will walk no longer by faith, but by sight.

No, those whom we remember this evening, those for whom we thank God, are not lost, for it is the Father’s will that nothing and no one will be lost from those he has given to the Son. And they do not merely live on in some shadowy metaphorical nowhere-land, for what was sown a corruptible body will be raised an incorruptible body, and the mortal shall put on immortality, and we with all the faithful departed shall see the Son in his glory, his nail-scarred hands stretched out to welcome us, the ones whom the Father has given him; and he shall in no wise cast us out.

And so to the Father who gives us, the Son who receives us, and the Holy Ghost who quickens us unto everlasting life be ascribed by all the faithful, living, departed, and yet to come, all might, dominion, majesty, and glory, world without end. Amen.