Our priest, revLois, has introduced periods of silence into our worship. It began the first Sunday in Advent and the silences were short. The first silence just before the confession during the Penitential Order; the second after the sermon, the third during the Eucharist just after the breaking of the consecrated bread.The silences were very short in the beginning, lengthening week by week. I welcome these silences. They help me to focus on my worship 'business' at appropriate times. Before the confession I have the opportunity to consider more deeply those things that I have done and those that I have left undone. It is an opening up to God. It is a cleansing time, even before the absolution. The silence after the sermon is, of course, time to reflect upon what the sermon says to me. At first there was much rustling of service leaflets and general fidgeting in the congregation. But as the season of Advent progresses, the silences are becoming still. We reflect. We sit in the quiet. Perhaps we just rest ourselves from the week's busyness. Whatever. We are still. We are in silence with God.Just before receiving God's spiritual food is the best silence of all. A time to truly appreciate the gifts we are about to receive. A time to fully remember that we are the People of God. We are in the company of all God's people everywhere. ALL God's People.I try to take the practice of silence home with me. It is not the same. There is just something enormously special about the corporate silence, just as corporate worship is special and different from my private worship. I will look forward to the silences next Sunday.
Good Friday, the most somber day of the church year. It is all about death. It is all about what Jesus did for us. OR how the New Testament authors told the story of the fulfillment of Old Testament scripture. However we worship on this day, it is somber.We enter a church stripped of all her refinement -- no candles, no fair linen everything taken away last evening by the Altar Guild. We pick up our service bulletins and take our seats quietly, barely nodding our greeting to others. We silently pray. We look over the service bulletin to check our responses. We await the entrance of the priest and choir who will enter in silence.But WAIT! What is that I hear? Not the murmurings of the choir gathering, not whispered conversation from those seated behind. What is it? I hear 'Yes, Jesus.' I hear 'Hallelujah.' Those are the only words that I pick up but I hear the cadence and it is all well miked. It is the congregation that worships in the Undercroft beneath this worship space. They are NOT quiet worshipers. They want God to hear them. It is not the quiet way that we worship on this day. But it is their way.At first I am annoyed. How am I possibly going to manage under these conditions? How dare my worship be compromised. But who are the interlopers here? They are worshipping at their regularly scheduled time. WE are the ones who are out of the norm. This is THEIR time. Well, really it is God's time. We worship in a way differently than they do. It is all the same God. Isn't it wonderful that we can all share this space and worship the same God albeit in a different manner.I turn my attention to our own service. I have to concentrate. We pray part of Psalm 22 together. Together we can hear ourselves. The Passion is read. We hear it all. Clearly. Perhaps the congregation downstairs is having silent prayer. I don't know. I don't remember. During the sermon I have to watch Lois' mouth to be sure that I hear and understand the words. I have to concentrate. I am eventually able to let the downstairs service be a background for the sermon. It isn't easy but I manage. I hear the sermon. I understand the sermon. I get the message. We sing "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" We leave in silence. Was there really silence? I don't remember.
