A Good Friday Thought, 2016

Today we break all barriers that come as obstacles in the beauty of our creation. We cannot be "an Easter people" without reliving the depths of divine despair. 

Cross of St. Paul's Episcopal, NOLA by Caroline Carson

An Episcopal Service of Tenebrae, 2016

I LOVE the service of Tenebrae and this is the third year we have held it at St. Paul's Episcopal in New Orleans! We used to be the only ones who did it in our area, but now there are more....YAY!! 

It is so lovely and is a highlight of Holy Week. The 40 pages of mostly plainsong includes wrenching passion from the psalms and poignant readings. It is also quite special to have a service of prayer and meditation under cover of darkness. It can be stunning. Last year, I wrote a post about Tenebrae itself. HERE, you can read that. For this post, I simply wanted to share some photos I took last night and say that if you can attend this service next year, DO IT! 

The Origins of Tenebrae
The liturgy offered this night is the full, ancient form of Tenebrae. Tenebrae is a Latin word signifying “darkness,” “shadows,” and “obscurity.” It is a word that pointedly calls our attention to the scriptural accounts of our Lord’s crucifixion: The name of this service is taken from the opening words of the fifth responsory: “Tenebrae factae sunt”—“darkness came over the whole land” (Mark 15:33; also, Matthew 27:45; Luke 23:44).

It is a moving descent into the darkest days of the church year as we descend into darkness and await the ascension into light at The Great Vigil of Easter. The Medieval offices of Matins and Lauds which were combined to create Tenebrae were the usual morning offices recited by the monastic communities ministering in the Roman basilicas and collegiate churches of Europe. At Matins the morning is greeted with prayer even before the sun rises and they developed out of the nocturnal times of prayer and watchfulness (vigiliae) that were common in the early church. Matins traditionally included three distinct sections called Nocturns (meaning “divisions of the night”). The office of Lauds, which in Tenebrae follows the Third Nocturn of Matins, is the traditional morning prayer of the church in the western world. The word “laud” means “to sing or speak the praises of” and originally implied a formal act of worship.

The union of the two liturgies produced a ritual greater than the sum of its parts. Through their correlation with the systematic extinguishing of candles unique to Tenebrae, those who originated the ceremony gave a new and greater interpretive task to the psalms and canticles. As noted, in their new liturgical context these poignant scriptural laments serve as commentary upon the darkness that gradually enshrouds the church and ominously envelops Jesus’ life during Holy Week.

In Remembrance - Entering Holy Week

As we enter into Holy Week, I would like to share a beautiful piece of choral music with you:
In Remembrance from Requiem by Canadian composer Eleanor Daley.

This time of year can bring a mix of nostalgia, spiritual discomfort, and great rejoicing. To steal and paraphrase a few words from Father Rob's sermon this morning: "I hope you will come and have your feet washed this Maundy Thursday. It might embarass you or make you feel uncomfortable - it's supposed to. I hope you will take an hour out of your time to pray during the Gethsemane Watch. You will probablyt be sleepy. You're supposed to be sleepy. Peter was sleepy." Good points. Should we allow ourselves to emote as well? Of course! How?

For me, Holy Week is usually spring break so my body says STOP & REST, but a different kind of service calls me and makes me excited and ENERGETIC again! I have a job that directly affects people's worship experiences and to some extent what they get out of the services. Sometimes, the repertoire that I bring to the choir and that we bring to the congregation helps people find a kind of release, find a connection with God, or perhaps drag them kicking and screaming to rejoice in the renewal of grace that no one is sure they actually deserve. Whatever the reaction, I am quite sure that times such as Holy Week and Easter poke at and unearth memories and experiences of the past. For many, it is viewed as a sorrowful time of guilt and remembrance of Jesus' death on the cross. For others, it's their one time of the year to show up and socialize with a flowery hat. For still more, it is a roller coaster of cross, prayer, guilt, sorrow, grace, rejoicing, and thankfulness.

I love this setting of "Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep". I conduct it slightly differently, but I love the way it is done here by the Stanford University Chamber Singers.
I programmed this work as an Introit for Easter morning at St. Paul's Episcopal, New Orleans, to be sung from the balcony. My idea is to make a connection with the women who went to Jesus' tomb on the third day and could not find him there. First they are sorrowful and then they are glad. It reminds me to see the Divine in all things and not to grieve. I changed the last line to "I am alive" (so as not to negate the Resurrection - though I suppose in a philosophical way, "I did not die" still works).

The text is the poem  Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
written by Mary Elizabeth Frye in 1932.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

Here is Daley's choral setting performed by the Stanford University Chamber Singers on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPjYsFJND1M