• Going out and coming in

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    This week I’ll have been at St Mary’s for nine years. It is the anniversary of my installation on Sunday. And this year I’ve decided to give myself an anniversary treat.

    When I came to St Mary’s there was much to try to understand and much to take in. Just trying to get your head around how things work in a new congregation is always tricky. Every place does things almost the same. But almost the same means that every place does things differently. Slightly differently – and that’s much more difficult to cope with than learning something completely new.

    One particular conundrum presented itself to me on my first Sunday. How did we get in? Did the clergy and choir go in singing a hymn and then turn and greet the people or did we process in, turn, greet and sing a hymn?

    Trying to learn from those who ought to know, I took a couple of people aside and asked them. Their responses were enlightening.

    Person number one told me very assuredly that the choir and clergy processed in singing and then greeted the people.

    Person number two told me just as assuredly that the choir and clergy processed in, greeted the people and then we sang the hymn.

    This was less than helpful. As the days counted down towards my first Sunday I needed to know.

    The only thing I could do was ask another person and take their answer as the tiebreaker. And so I did.

    “Oh, Provost, we do whatever the Provost would like us to do,” was the answer.

    It was a slightly disturbing answer because one of the things that I knew I needed to be here was to be someone who didn’t have all the answers and who could let St Mary’s find a way of being where all the questions didn’t get thrown at the Provost to answer.

    However, without being able to get a definitive answer from anyone, I did in the end say what we were going to do in order to get ourselves into place.

    The trouble is, I’ve been regretting one detail ever since, particularly recently.

    What I said would happen is that we would process in. Then the choir and clergy would bow to one another from either side of the communion table, the clergy would turn, greet the people and then we would sing a hymn.

    It looks smart, it means we all start knowing what we are doing and we don’t flap about with music as we are processing.

    But the thing that has been bugging me recently is that it only really includes those who are at the sharp end of the church.

    We bow to one another to signify that God is present – that God is amongst us; that God is about us and within us.

    But what about the bulk of the congregation? Isn’t God in them too?

    This has been bothering me for some time and I found myself talking to Richard Giles about it on Saturday.

    Now, Richard Giles is one of the most interesting liturgists to have emerged in the last few years. And on Saturday he looked me in the eyes and said the magic words – “Well, if you are not happy with it, just change it. It isn’t too late….”

    And he was right.

    So, we’re going to change things from this Sunday.

    From this week, the choir and clergy will process in. They will then bow to one another from either side of the table. And then the clergy will turn and bow to the congregation who are invited to return the bow.

    We’re all in this together.

    The smallest of gestures can mean a great deal in the world of liturgical worship.

    We’re going to try this one for a bit and see whether it works. My last thought on the subject has served us well for nine years, but it is time for a change.

    Odd what Provosts give themselves as anniversary presents, isn’t it?

10 responses to “Triduum #6 The Vigil”

  1. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Oh suppose the sleep over! The bible readings to read – the stories to tell! The living re-tellings it would invite.

    And suppose the exhaustion on Easter Day… and Monday

    1. kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Rosemary.

      BTW, after you had finished polishing the eagle this morning and had gone, I discovered that we have a pelican.

  2. Beth Avatar

    The pelican has not been polished, however, Rosemary, none of us being quite that tall.

    I do suspect I would like the all night vigil if we ever did it.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Where is the pelican??!! Up somewhere?? Oh, I would love to polish a pelican.

    I’d love to sit up half the night reading aloud and telling stories – but I fear the exhaustion. But I would never, ever resist if invited. As long I was invited and allowed to read and tell stories. It could be so fabulous. Unique. Deep. Newsworthy. (and those are all the lures I have to throw.)

    You do realise my first words are now liable to be not ‘alithos anesti’ but ‘where is the blessed pelican?’

    1. kelvin Avatar

      I think that those of us who know where the Pelican is must keep our counsel and give Rosemary the pleasure of Pelican Spotting on Easter Day.

      What treat could be more lovely?

  4. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Still pelican searching – it is tough on those N rather than S – if you see me with my monocular don’t laugh – oh. all right then, go on, do laugh!

  5. ryan Avatar
    ryan

    Ooh, is it a Pelican in its Piety, which I gather was a popular Christ-symbol in medieval europe and also amongst the Larry Graysons?

    1. kelvin Avatar

      Not only is she a Pelican in her Piety but I actually found that we have two.

      I also found that it’s possible to Pelicans in their Piety right under Rosemary’s nose and she won’t necessarily see them.

      Someone suggested to me a while ago that we should have an inventory of the flaura and fauna represented in the iconography of St Mary’s. I suspect such a task would be a revelation. There’s a badger, for example, which few see but me.

  6. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    I am chronically unobservant – I notoriously fail to see things right under my nose. Last week I failed to see the pepper grater. It was upright on a table of less than two foot diameter. There was a table lamp, a plate and the pepper grater. I could not see it. It is sad on one whose speciality is religious architecture, isn’t it? But Low Sunday shall be find the pelican day.

  7. Beth Avatar

    Rosemary, I’d have nudged you in the right direction yesterday morning if I hadn’t rudely run off just as our conversation got to pelicans. (The pleasure of the hunt is all well and good, but it can get to the point of being an exercise in frustration.)

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