• Still Prayin’

    In many churches, St Mary’s included, there is at least one, often two short public service of daily prayer. Here in St Mary’s we have morning prayer at 9.30 and a dedicated band of people take turns in leading. There are generally between five and ten people who come – sometimes more and sometimes less.

    For almost a couple of years now we’ve been experimenting with an evening service on Saturdays which is convened online rather than in church. After a break in the summer, that has now started up again.

    When I first participated in a daily tradition of prayer I was working in the University of London in one of the University Chaplaincies. I remember once saying to someone in the college that I needed to get back for Evening Prayer and his response has stuck with me. “Say one for me” he said. He was not someone who would ever dream of coming to the service itself but somehow it mattered to him that prayer was offered in that place.

    Something  of the same thing is going on with the online service. There’s a small band of people who do it – never more than 10 because we don’t have the technology for more than 10. Sometimes we’ve approached that number but more often it is just a few of  us. I find that when I tell people that prayer is offered in a google hangout online they are really interested but far fewer come and join in than care about it. There’s obvious delight in the very idea from some people who don’t ever make it into the hangout. There’s a touch of “say one for me” about the experience, I suspect.

    People are also interested in what it feels like.

    Interestingly the experience that it has most felt like to me is morning prayer at St Mary’s. I guess I am generally comfortable living life online and more so than many. However, it doesn’t really feel any different to me.

    I’m interested in this because I know that clergy find it hard to say the daily office on their own. No, let me be more truthful, I know that I find it hard to say the daily office on my own. When I worked in a smaller church I could never quite drag myself into church to say it publicly and I shared what quite a lot of people say – that it makes them feel lonely. Now sometimes you can get yourself in th mood by reminding yourself that you say it with the saints and angels and with all the company of heaven, including those who are saying the same words in many different situations. There’s a core truth that you never pray alone which I believe. However, that is often easier to belief than to feel.

    Saying the office online is one way that groups of people could chose to build into their spiritual practise. The little group that does it at St Mary’s now has been doing it long enough to be able to offer tips and I’d welcome any questions or enquiries. Best thing to do, of course, is just turn up to one of our services in cyberspace.

    There’s more detail here:

    http://thecathedral.org.uk/online-evening-prayer/

     

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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