Lord, I Have Cried

Lord, I have cried unto Thee, hearken unto me. Hearken unto me, O Lord. Lord, I have cried unto Thee, hearken unto me. Attend to the voice of my supplication when I cry unto Thee. Hearken unto me, O Lord! Let my prayer be set forth as incense before Thee, the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice. Hearken unto me, O Lord!

Above is a portion of the service of Vespers, slightly rearranged from Psalm 140. The Lord, I Have Cried is actually one of the most solemn portions of Vespers for me. Yes, we have the Come, let us worship and I love psalm 103 as the joyful start to the new day and the recalling of our creation but it is only truly at the Lord, I Have Cried, with its repetitious and faithful pleading, 'hearken unto me, O Lord' that my heart is truly called prayer, when I am moved to seek communion with God more fully.

Imagine, then, my pain, bewilderment, and complete sense of loss over the summer of last year, when these words became empty and meaningless in a way that they never had before, when I was going to church and God simply was not there - or so it seemed. It has been known among a small number of friends that I very nearly apostatised last year. I found it immenselly difficult to convince myself that there was even a God left to believe in. It was not something that could be argued logically with any of the arguments from a position of faith that are often presented in debates about the existence of God for this was not an academic rejection of God. It was simply a feeling that God was not there. That God is made perfect sense to my intellect but I could no longer bring myself to believe.

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The Worship of God: a Commercial Enterprise?

There are those who may be offended by what follows. I fear that this is simply a hazard of saying what I believe to be right and true. Therefore, if you see your own custom criticised here and feel your back arch a little, I would ask you to take a step back from the initial reaction and ask yourself why you feel that way, and whether there might be something about your practice that could be reassessed.

Some of you have known me for a long time, whether as a personal friend of from my participation in a particular online Christian discussion forum, which has a real-life social element through which some of you have met me. Many of you will know that, in my Anglican days, I was a great fan of what is commonly called the English Use. This was the particular liturgical style that sought to restore Catholic elements to the worship of the Church of England, not by simply copying what modern or "traditional" Rome was doing but rather by restoring customs, music, and practices that had been part of the Catholic (and previously, Orthodox) tradition in Britain prior to the reformation, largely in the Use of Sarum and others similar to it. Among the benefits of these customs, were that, being part of the liturgical heritage of these isles, they were often found to be more palatable to the average Anglican than some of the more exotic continental customs which had come to be associated with Anglo-Papalism and other ecclesiologies that many found difficult, and had often continued in one form or another even during the most protestant phases of the Church of England. Also, they were free from associations with some of the sentimental devotional excesses of post-Counter-Reformation Roman Catholicism. Many of these early customs, of course, are once again to be found in the Orthodox Church in our Western Rite missions.

One of the most prominent proponents of the English Use was the Rev'd Dr Percy Dearmer, a rather eccentric Anglican clergyman in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, perhaps best known for his contribution to the production of The English Hymnal, (and authorship of some of its contents), and, even more so, The Parson's Handbook, which is just what the title suggests: a practical guide to the decent and orderly worship of God for ministers and those involved in the running of parishes. In it, he is highly opinionated and wonderfully forthright in the most amusing of ways, and demonstrates before his readers his own unique and refreshing brand of tact. Even those who disagree with his points, (and it is difficult to see how any right-thinking person could), must admit that his written style makes him an incredibly attractive author. I often wish he were alive today because I would love to read his blog, which I imagine would have a myriad of followers and receive regular comments, (unlike my own humble offering cough, hint, cough). In fact, my friends and I used to jest that, occasionally, it might be edifying to the people were we to occasionally forgo the Sunday Epistle and simply read an excerpt from The Parson's Handbook.

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Just what is Liturgy?

'I've never really seen the point to historical liturgy.'

These words were spoken by a very good friend of mine a few days ago and they have repeated on my mind on and off since then as I have tried to understand and to be able to articulate why the phrasing didn't sit well with me. I hasten to point out that they were spoken in friendly tones as part of a discussion we were having about the different preferences for worship styles that we and another friend of ours have. It was simply an expression of his own feeling on the matter and not any sort of criticism of mine - I say that because this isn't very clear with the words quoted out of context.

My friend is Roman Catholic and describes his spirituality as charismatic. He has an appreciation for tradition but finds his home in freer, meditative styles of worship with modern music, and without what he might perceive as too much rigidity as far as rubrics and such like go. I think that is a fair assessment, although I ask his forgiveness and hope that he will correct me if it is not.

As readers and anybody who knows me will be aware, I am very much of the view that it is right and proper that our worship be in continuity with and a development of that of those before us, as an expression of the same faith held by those before us. The elements that we have inherited only have any meaning and purpose within the entire organic unit of which they are part, which is the liturgical whole that has come down to us. It occurs to me that this is why I was not happy with the reference to "historical" liturgy. To my understanding, this is not "historical liturgy", as though it were some sort of archaeological exercise, dredging up something that is outdated and from the past. They are living rites with a rich heritage and in use today.

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This is none other than the house of God...

...and this is the gate of heaven.

- Genesis 28:17b

I would like to share this modernised version of a little rhyme which, it seems, is found engraved on some of our ancient churches here in Britain:

This seems to embody the same sentiment as the three bows and their accompanying prayers that we make in the eastern tradition as we enter church, acknowledging the holiness of the place and our unworthiness to enter, and, of course, the prostrations that made by those of us who enter the altar for service. There are no prayers prescribed in the latter instance but I find comfort here in borrowing from the west, saying privately those verses:

I shall go in unto the altar of God, even unto the God Who giveth joy to my youth: I will praise Thee upon the harp, O God, my God.

- Psalm 42:4

Mitre-tip to Father Abbot David of the Holyrood Benedictine monastic house in Florida.

Liturgical Oddities

I stumbled upon this website yesterday and was delighted to find an Orthodox parish broadcasting its services. I began watching the most recent broadcast yesterday, as I very much enjoy looking at these things. Only, I could only watch so far before I just had to shut the computer down. I watched the rest today. Imagine my surprise at some of the things that I saw:

A subdeacon giving a litany, a deacon reading half of the Anaphora instead of the priest, a lay server placing items on the Holy Table, the priest not dividing the Lamb with the spear as usual but grabbing it and carelessly ripping It apart with his bare hands with seemingly little care for prevention of dropping crumbs. The Royal Doors were wide open throughout the Liturgy, even at the point where they would be closed if a bishop were to serve. Very peculiar was the complete omission of the Litany of Fervent Supplication, the Litany for the Catechumens, both Litanies of the Faithful, and the Litany before the Lord's Prayer, not to mention other minor things, which, while not major causes of alarm, were unusual, such as kneeling for part of the Anaphora (on a Sunday), the deacons splitting the litanies between them, and so forth. I found watching it more of a distraction than a spiritually beneficial experience.

Is this sort of thing common in North American parishes under Antioch?

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Small Things - Part 2

A few months ago, I wrote a heartfelt piece on the value of being faithful in small things. I am very grateful to Moses over on the Burning Bush blog for posting this portion of the writings of St John of Shanghai and San Francisco:

Many people believe that to live according to the faith and to fulfill the will of God is very difficult. Actually — it’s very easy. One needs only attend to details, to trifles, and try to avoid evil in the slightest and most trivial things. This is the simplest and surest way to enter the world of the spirit and draw near to God. A man often thinks that the Creator demands great things of him, that the Gospel insists on complete self-sacrifice, the abolition of one’s person hood, etc., as a condition of faith. A man is so frightened by this that he begins to be afraid of becoming acquainted with God, of drawing near to God, and hides himself from God, not even wishing to look into God’s Word. 'If I can’t do anything important for God, then I’d just better stay away from things spiritual, stop thinking about eternity, and live "in a normal way".'

There exists at the entrance to the spiritual realm a “hypnosis of great deeds”: one must either do some big thing or do nothing. And so people do nothing at all for God or for their souls! It is very strange — the more a man is devoted to the little things of life, the less he wishes to be honest or pure or faithful to God in those same little things. And, moreover, each one must adopt a correct attitude toward little things if one wishes to come near to the kingdom of heaven.

“Wishes to come near”… In this is summed up all the difficulties of the religious life. Often one wishes to enter into the kingdom of heaven quite unexpectedly, in some miraculous and magical way, or, by right — through some kind of great feat. But neither the one nor the other is the right way to find the higher world. One does not enter God’s presence in some wondrous manner while remaining indifferent on earth to the needs of the kingdom of God and its bright eternity, nor can one purchase the treasures of the kingdom of God by some kind of eternal act, however great that act might be. Yet good deeds - holy deeds - are necessary for one to grow into a higher life, a bright will, a good desire, a heavenly psychology, a heart that is both pure and fair…

“…Verily, verily I say unto you that whosoever offers one of the least of these but a cup of cold water, in the name of a disciple, shall not lose his reward.” In this saying of the Lord is the highest expression of the smallness of the good. “A glass of water” — this is not much…

…In every communication between people there must without fail be a good spirit. This spirit is Christ, openly manifest or hidden.

“In the name of a disciple” — this is the first step in communicating with another person in the name of Jesus Christ Himself. Many people, not as yet knowing the Lord and the wondrous fellowship in his Name still have among themselves an unselfish, pure and human fellowship which brings them ever closer to the Spirit of Christ…

…As a matter of fact, the lesser good is more necessary for mankind than the greater. People can get along with their lives without the greater good; without the lesser they can not exist. Mankind perishes not from a lack of the greater good, but from an insufficiency of just this lesser good. The greater good is no more than a roof, erected on the brick walls of the lesser good.

The lesser, easier good was left on this earth for man by the Creator Himself, who took all the greater good upon Himself. Whosoever does the lesser, the same creates — and through him the Creator Himself creates — the greater good. Of our little good the Creator makes his own great good. For as our Lord is the Creator who formed all things from nothingness, so is He more able to create the greater good from the lesser…

Through such lesser, easy work, done with the greatest simplicity, a man is accustomed to the good and begins to serve it with his whole heart, sincerely, and in this way enters into an atmosphere of good, lets down the roots of his life into new soil, the soil of the good. The roots of human life quickly accommodate themselves to this good earth, and soon cannot live without it… Thus is a man saved: from the small comes the great. “Faithful in little things” turns out to be “faithful in the greater.”

Lay aside all theoretical considerations that it is forbidden to slaughter millions, women, children, and elderly; be content to manifest your moral sense by in no way killing the human dignity of your neighbour, neither by word, nor by innuendo, nor by gesture.

Do not be angry over trifles “against your brother vainly” (Matthew 5:22) or in the daily contacts of life speak untruth to your neighbour. These are trifles, small change, of no account; but just try to do this and you will see what comes of it.

It is hard to pray at night. But try in the morning. If you can’t manage to pray at home than at least as you ride to your place of employment attempt with a clear head the “Our Father” and let the words of this short prayer resound in your heart. And at night commend yourself with complete sincerity into the hands of the Heavenly Father. This indeed is very easy.

And give, give a glass of cold water to everyone who has need of it; give a glass filled to the brim with simple human companionship to everyone that lack it, the very simplest companionship…

O wondrous path of little things, I sing thee a hymn! Surround yourselves, O people, gird up yourselves with little works of good — with a chain of little, simple, easy and good feelings which cost us naught, a chain of bright thoughts, words and deeds. Let us abandon the big and the difficult. That is for them that love it and not for us for whom the Lord in his mercy, for us who have not yet learned to love the greater, has poured forth the lesser love everywhere, free as water and air.

- From Missionary Leaflet 129

Small Things

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill,
be a scrub in the valley... but be
the best little scrub by the side of the rill;
be a bush if you can't be a tree.

If you can't be a bush, be a bit of the grass,
and some highway happier make;
if you can't be a muskie, then just be a bass...
but the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew.
There's something for all of us here,
there's big work to do, and there's lesser to do,
and the task you must do is near.

If you can't be a highway, then just be a trail,
if you can't be the sun, be a star;
it isn't by size that you win or you fail...
be the best of whatever you are!

- D. Mallock

Concordia Parvae Res Crescunt (In Harmony Small Things Grow)

- Xaverian College motto

Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.

- Mother Teresa of Calcutta

The poem Be the Best of Whatever You Are I learnt at primary school, the Latin motto I learnt at college, and the Mother Teresa quotation I stumbled upon while googling. I think that there is an important message contained in all of the above words, and it is something that is sadly often disregarded by many people in secular society and scorned by many Christian people: I am speaking about the value of small things.

There seems to be a cultural laxity about doing things well. I am not referring to people doing their best and making mistakes but rather to the attitude that care for the little things doesn't matter. We see it in spelling and grammar, in workmanship, in precision of communication, and in various aspects of life. When those of us who are troubled at this express our thoughts, we are often accused of being fussy, pernickety, and are treated with some degree of hostility because we are perceived as being critical. After all, these are just small things. What do they matter? Whether or not this is a cultural shift I am too young to say - it may well be the case that this carelessness has always abounded and that mankind has survived in spite of this. I don't know.

What I do know is that this mentality has infected Christians. I can think of a number of occasions in my life where I have been dismissed as petty, called a bigot, or accused of being pharisaical because of my desire to do things well in church - and this by other Christians. I do not understand this way of thinking or the motivation for dismissing somebody's act of faith in this way. On one Sunday, at a former Anglican parish of mine, we had a visiting priest who overestimated the amount of wine that would be required. After everybody had been communicated and the priest had consumed what he could, there was still a full chalice left over, which I put into the aumbry. Before the Wednesday lunchtime mass, our regular priest removed it, placed it on the altar, and treated it as though the previous Sunday had not happened, consecrating it afresh. When I politely expressed concern about this afterwards, I received the cavalier response, "Oh well. If God can get into it he can get out of it again". I can list a number of examples, both within and without Orthodoxy.

Where does this come from? Is it from a genuine lack of care for how things are done? Do people imagine that, because God is, in his essence, beyond our wildest imaginings, the mundane things of earth are of no concern to Him? The Incarnation and all of salvation history would seem to suggest otherwise. Or is it possibly due to a low sense of self-value, so that people think that their own actions and devotion are so meaningless that it cannot possibly matter if they are not done well?

The Anglican church of St Anne on the island of St Kitts used to have a sexton called Mr Ronald Mills, (may his memory be eternal). One day, he was in church, performing his usual duties during the daytime. He paused to ring the Angelus before continuing with his duties. An hour or so later, he was making his way home and, as he was leaving the churchyard, the priest shouted from the rectory balcony across the street, 'Ring the Angelus, Ronnie!' 'But I've already rung it,' came the reply. 'Well, ring it again!' said the rector. It turns out that he had initially rung it an hour early.

When Mr Mills told me this story, I was about 12 years old and he was well into his 80s. The events of the story had happened at least forty years earlier, yet he told me about them while he was polishing a censer. I hasten to add that, by this point in his life, his fingers weren't quite as nimble as they had once been and his buffing perhaps not as vigorous, and it showed in the appearance of the censer afterwards, and he was aware of it, but that's all rather beside the point. The point is that this was his devotion. He had very little money and had never lived outside his small town on his small island. This service that he performed to the best of his ability was his way of giving of what he had to honour God, of contributing to the communal worship by his parish of almighty God, and it had nourished his faith for nearly half a century. If it wasn't done well, it upset him. It was a small thing.

At my parish, most of us don't have very much money. Some of us sing, others mop, while others bring back candles, wine, and incense from their travels. Some people bake prosphora while others arrange flowers and clean icons. Some of us arrange the variable parts of the services week by week, feast by feast, while others pick the embedded wax out of the candle stands or prepare food to share after the Sunday Liturgy. All of us try our best to make sure that what we do is done as well as it can be. I sometimes see one lady fixing the flower arrangements as she venerates icons because she wants them to look the best that they can. Before they unwrap it, some people privately check with our priest that the food they have brought to share doesn't break any fasting rule because they want their offering to be a joy and not a stumbling-block for their brothers and sisters. I bury myself in books of rubrics during the week because I want my parish's worship to bring our people into the life and common worship of the Church as much possible. These are small things.

Are we Pharisees? After all, a petal falling to the floor, eating a piece of chicken during Lent, and the Sunday Communion Verse sung on a Thursday are all things that are unlikely to set off a sequence of events which will ultimately culminate in the end of the world, (which is probably just as well, because we don't always get it right). However, I prefer to think that we are just people who have inherited a Christian Tradition through which the Saints have been saved, and are trying our best to be faithful to it, for the honour and love of God, out of love for each other, and for our health and salvation. These may just be small things, but they are our small things, and we offer them so that may come together to make a beautiful offering to God. In harmony small things grow.

I always remember the parables of the Saviour whenever people make accusations of pharisaism in matters such as these. There is the parable of the unjust steward:

(Jesus) also said to his disciples: “There was a certain rich man who had a steward, and an accusation was brought to him that this man was wasting his goods. So he called him and said to him, ‘What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your stewardship, for you can no longer be steward.’

Then the steward said within himself, ‘What shall I do? For my master is taking the stewardship away from me. I cannot dig; I am ashamed to beg. I have resolved what to do, that when I am put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses.’

So he called every one of his master’s debtors to him, and said to the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ And he said, ‘A hundred measures of oil.’ So he said to him, ‘Take your bill, and sit down quickly and write fifty.’ Then he said to another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ So he said, ‘A hundred measures of wheat.’ And he said to him, ‘Take your bill, and write eighty.’ So the master commended the unjust steward because he had dealt shrewdly. For the sons of this world are more shrewd in their generation than the sons of light.

And I say to you, make friends for yourselves by unrighteous mammon, that when you fail, they may receive you into an everlasting home. He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much; and he who is unjust in what is least is unjust also in much. Therefore if you have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?"

- Luke 16:1-11

The teaching of this parable is that even the most unlikely, worldly, things may be used for the service of God, and that the world is better at using money for the sake of its own ends than religious people are at using money for higher things. The Saviour asks how we can possibly be trusted with great things, with true riches, when we have shown that we cannot be faithful even with small things.

We see this also in the parable of the talents.

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a man traveling to a far country, who called his own servants and delivered his goods to them. And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, to each according to his own ability; and immediately he went on a journey. Then he who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and made another five talents. And likewise he who had received two gained two more also. But he who had received one went and dug in the ground, and hid his lord’s money.

After a long time the lord of those servants came and settled accounts with them. So he who had received five talents came and brought five other talents, saying, ‘Lord, you delivered to me five talents; look, I have gained five more talents besides them.’ His lord said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord.’ He also who had received two talents came and said, ‘Lord, you delivered to me two talents; look, I have gained two more talents besides them.’ His lord said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord.’

Then he who had received the one talent came and said, ‘Lord, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not scattered seed. And I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground. Look, there you have what is yours.’ But his lord answered and said to him, ‘You wicked and lazy servant, you knew that I reap where I have not sown, and gather where I have not scattered seed. So you ought to have deposited my money with the bankers, and at my coming I would have received back my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to him who has ten talents. ‘For to everyone who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who does not have, even what he has will be taken away. And cast the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’"

- Matthew 25:14-30

The lord of the servants gives to each according to his ability, just as we receive our lot in life. Do we use whatever small portion we have for the glory of God or do we instead convince ourselves that what we have is of so little worth that God cannot possibly have any use for it? This is the immortal God Who, for our salvation, deigned to be incarnate of the Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary, and without change became man, and was crucified. Surely this God is concerned with the physical things of the world and appreciates our offering, given with a humble and contrite heart. Psalm 138 should convince us of this.

Do I think that there is a danger of legalism? Yes, I do. If we merely follow the externals of our faith slavishly, rather than because they spring from a lively faith, then we are not open to the transformative power of God's grace. Yet the external elements of our faith - even the most minute act of devotion and careful precision - can be spiritually beneficial. We learn from the psalmist that the external offerings are not rejected but that they must be offered in humility and contrition.

O Lord, Thou shalt open my lips, and my mouth shall declare thy praise. For if Thou hadst desired sacrifice, I had given it; with whole-burnt offerings Thou shalt not be pleased. A sacrifice unto God is a broken spirit; a heart that is broken and humbled God will not despise. Do good, O Lord, in thy good pleasure unto Sion, and let the walls of Jerusalem be builded. Then shalt Thou be pleased with a sacrifice of righteousness, with oblation and whole-burnt offerings. Then shall they offer bullocks upon thine altar.

- verses from Psalm 50

Yet, while there is the danger of falling into legalism, I do believe that it is often with too much
ease that this accusation is made, and that it is sometimes used, perhaps unwittingly, as an excuse for slovenliness and for the placing of personal preferences over and above the humble obedience to Holy Tradition that should naturally flow from love for God. So yes, perhaps sometimes I get a little frustrated when things go wrong with my preparation of the services, or when I don't understand how something should fit together; and perhaps I flinch a little when I see due care not being given to the offering of the services, but it is only because it is primarily through participation in the services of the Church that I am nourished and fed. I need them, and when I have a part to play in them, I want for it to be the best offering that I can give to God and to my brothers and sisters in Christ. If this makes me a rubricist, or a pharisee, or a fusspot, then it is a label that I am willing to embrace, because what matters to me most of all - what I truly long for - is that, after a lifetime of trying to pray faithfully, and striving to love ardently, and struggling to worship fervently, and being embraced by God's grace in the Mysteries of salvation, when I breathe my last, I might just hear the words, 'Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful in small things, I will make you ruler over great things. Enter into the joy of your lord.'

Lord, have mercy!