CRAFTING WORSHIP: Lent / Holy Week / Easter Composed by Paul F. Bosch and edited by Andre Lavergne. This material originally appeared in Section 5 of GATHERED FOR WORSHIP (c) 1995 Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada. CRAFTING WORSHIP is posted to the World-Wide Web at LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS home page of the ELCIC's Working Group on Worship. Section and page numbers refer to GATHERED FOR WORSHIP. Communities are free to use this material with acknowledgment. ---------- Ash Wednesday: Celebrating Ash Wednesday Ash Wednesday is the church's Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement in the Jewish calendar) the most solemn day in the Christian calendar. It is the most solemn, but not the most austere. (The most austere, in terms of what might be called "sensory deprivation," is Good Friday. See below, this section, Good Friday, page 25.) The colour is black, if available, with Lent's purple as an alternate. The liturgy for the day includes the option of receiving an ashen cross traced on the forehead. Introduced as an option, this ancient gesture wins new support every year in parishes where it is observed. The ashes are, first, an ancient symbol of cleansing. They are, secondly, a supreme symbol of mortality. Third, the gesture can be interpreted to contemporary congregations as a sign of human solidarity with the natural world. Human beings, flora and fauna, stones, and stars we are all made of the same stuff. The liturgy of the day, which may be found in the LBW/ME is new to Lutherans since the introduction of LBW, and recalls the liturgist's dictum that every unfamiliar ritual invites you to re-examine your piety, encourages a re-thinking of your relationship to God, to self, to others, and to the world. Beginning with Ash Wednesday, and throughout Lent, greens replace flowers in the worship space (see this section, Lent 1, page 5). Cross and crucifix are veiled (see below, this section, Lent 2, page 5). And within the Ordinary of the Service, the more austere texts and musical settings are used: "Lord, now you let" (Nunc Dimittis) rather than "Thank the Lord," for example. Lent 1: Greens Instead of Flowers The custom of replacing floral decorations in the church with simple arrangements of greens during the weeks of Lent--as during the weeks of Advent--is a precious tradition to many, and with good reason. There are at least three persuasive arguments for honouring this tradition. First, we mute an eloquent "voice" when we do not allow the florist's art to "speak." Second, we miss a splendid teaching opportunity: Lent is different from Epiphany, different from Easter. And third, we are simply cheating ourselves: denying ourselves a deeper sensitivity to our world. The greens may be fir and pine and balsam (as in Advent); they may be artful arrangements of lemon leaves or palm or other broadleafed greens. On Ash Wednesday we might see only barren branches: "bouquets" of sticks and twisted twigs artfully composed. Then, when flowers return, at Easter: Wow! Lent 2: A Fast for the Senses The custom of veiling cross and crucifix during the weeks of Lent seems at first a self-defeating gesture, actually counter-productive: are we to deny our eyes, during these days, an access to representations of the very subject of our devotion--Christ himself!--which the church enjoins us to contemplate during this holy season? In answer to this critique, it is well to recall that the custom arose as a "fast for the eyes" in the Middle Ages, when crosses and crucifixes were often splendid, jewel-encrusted works of art. In what ways can congregations today provide for a contemporary fast for the eyes? The question is valid; the instinct is a noble one. A fast for the eyes suggests, too, a parallel "fast for the ears." The days of Lent might be a time for reducing musical embellishment in our worship. A fast for the eyes; a fast for the ears; a fast for all the senses? Parishes might consider imaginative contemporary interpretations of this very sound and honourable instinct, particularly in our affluent North American society, where we are daily bombarded with advertising messages that urge instant self-gratification, at almost any expense. Lent 3: One Cross: Processional In congregations considering renovation of their worship space, the question often arises: Should we provide our worship space with an altar cross? A wall-mounted cross? A hanging cross over the altar? A processional cross? Or all four? It is well to note, during such deliberations, that there is reason to suppose that a simple processional cross, or processional crucifix, was most likely the primary symbol, in ancient times: carried into a space, planted there to claim the space for Christ during worship, and carried out again when worship was over. Further, a proliferation of crosses represents a capitulation to our age's penchant for "cultural inflation." The best advice: one cross (or crucifix) per parish, and that one processional. The virtue of a processional cross or crucifix is of course that, with a portable stand, it may be positioned anywhere. Be certain, when you decide on a processional cross or crucifix, that you provide not one but two portable stands: you'll need one stand at the start of a procession, and a second stand in position wherever the procession is to end. Lent 4: The Creed: an Option It comes as a surprise to many to note that LBW considers the Creed to be an option within the Ordinary of Holy Communion (see LBW/PE, rubric 20, page 84). The reason? It seems to many that a Creed injects an unfortunate pedagogical moment into what is essentially doxology. In any case, the Holy Communion is itself a splendid credal confession, particularly in its trinitarian eucharistic prayers. So when time constraints suggest the necessity of shortening the service, parishes may want to consider eliminating the Creed. Pastoral prudence, however, may suggest retaining the Creed on Sundays, particularly among doctrine-conscious Lutherans. Are we "homodoxists"? Are we idolaters of creeds? The question is a valid one. It is one thing to confess an orthodox faith: "orthodox" in its meaning as "straight praise." It is quite another thing to be rigidly homodoxist: to insist that all Christians affirm a uniform and exclusionary "same praise." There is rich theological diversity in the history of the church, and plenty of theological diversity, for that matter, within the pages of Scripture. This is part of its glory. Mark's picture of Jesus, for example, differs from Matthew's, from Luke's. And we are the richer for it. But Lutherans, particularly, with their impressive theological traditions, often appear to other Christians as excessively intellectualizing, lineal, "left- brained," rationalist and often at the expense of heart-felt emotion, humane compassion, an empathy that graciously condescends to human frailty. This is by no means to argue that creeds are useless. They represent one of the "non-negotiables" of Christian faith. But surely any creed is best employed, in Christian worship, when it points to the mystery beyond its own formulations; when, that is, it is understood as doxa, rather than as dogma; as a hymn of praise, rather than as a club to beat the intellect into submission. We need reminding of that! Occasional omission of the creed, therefore, might serve these salutary purposes. And whenever it is used, it might profitably be sung, rather than spoken, as a reminder that its use, here, in this moment, is chiefly doxological. See the fresh ELLC translations of the creeds and other ecumenical texts, pages 54-56, in WOV Lent 5: Standing for the Orans The custom of kneeling for prayer is ancient and a worthy option during Lent (and perhaps Advent). But liturgical scholars are today acknowledging that the kneeling posture may, sometimes, be uncongenial to our expressed Christian piety. It is certainly uncongenial to Jews, among whom it has always been customary to stand for prayer, with head and hands uplifted, palms open and out, in a marvellously expressive gesture of praise. This posture, called the orans (Latin for "praying"), models two theological convictions: that we are made in God's image; and that we share in Christ's resurrection (in German: auferstehung: "the standing up" of Christ!). Contemporary liturgiologists are urging the use of the orans posture among worship leaders, both ordained and lay, whenever they lead public prayers, as for example at the Prayer of the Day, and at the Intercessions. At the very least, the orans has been traditional in the West at the Hymn of Praise ("Glory to God") and at the start of the Great Thanksgiving. Worshippers might even join worship leaders in a grand congregational orans every time the Lord's Prayer is prayed. "Charismatic" Christians have long been familiar with the orans gesture. Is it perhaps time to reclaim it as salutary in every Christian congregation? Passion/Palm Sunday: Celebrating Palm Sunday Today's liturgy (LBW/MDE, page 134) may be unfamiliar to many; because of this unfamiliarity, once again we are invited to re-examine our piety (see above, this section, Ash Wednesday, page 3). In less than a generation, a Procession with Palms has gained wide acceptance among us. By all means plan one. Such a demonstration has the character of a protest march, a political witness that Christian allegiance is to "the kingdom of our Lord" and not to "the kingdoms of this world." The Gospel reading may become a thrilling experience of participation in the Passion when it is presented as a dramatic reading by half-a-dozen competent voices. Let the choir read the parts assigned to the crowd. Let us keep Passion pamphlets and bibles out of the pew today and invite worshippers to give undivided attention to the readers. Simple costuming might enhance the reading: a white alb for Jesus; a selection of muted shawls and head-scarves over choir robes for other characters; a richly textured cope for Pilate or Herod. The worship space is massed with (real!) palms and palmettos; palm branches may be temporarily fixed to processional cross and processional torches. Holy Week Monday: Celebrating Holy Week For two generations, North American Lutherans have had access to propers for every day in Holy Week. Parishes miss an enrichment in congregational life by not using them. A service every day in Holy Week? Why not! Such services could provide splendid opportunities to introduce liturgical drama or liturgical dance in a parish, or a Service of Tenebrae, or a choir cantata, or an agape meal or Seder meal. In many communities, an evening worship hour is increasingly problematic. So many parishes are experimenting with unusual worship hours, for such services: early in the morning, before the workday begins; at noontime, during a lunch break; in mid afternoon, attracting seniors; in late afternoon, at the end of the workday but before supper. The location of your worship space, and the demographics of your congregation, may suggest experimenting with the hour of mid-week services in your parish. Holy Week Tuesday: Symbols that Function Contemporary liturgical scholars have an aversion to symbols used simply as decoration. Symbols quickly become impoverished--even fraudulent--when they lose their utilitarian character. Put more positively, symbols are at their best when they function in the church's ritual life. Candles, for example, have a simple utilitarian function in worship (as elsewhere!): they are meant, first and foremost, to illuminate the task at hand. Candles in the worship space, therefore, should be expected to do just that; candles become fraudulent symbols when they fail to deliver what they promise. The size and scale and placement of candles, that is, should at least suggest that they are illuminating the worship leader's task at the reading desk or lectern, at the altar, at the sedelia. Likewise, the Bible becomes an impoverished symbol when it is left always on the lectern, open to Psalm 117, covered with dust, and never read. An altar book left un-used on the altar's missal stand is similarly inappropriate, as are a chalice and paten left un-used on the altar. "Because it looks pretty" is never a sufficient reason for such theatrics. Parishes do their people a favour by respecting the utilitarian character of these important Christian signs. And by using them always and exclusively as they were designed to be used: candles for their light; a book for the reading; a chalice and paten for the eating and drinking. There are three realities that operate in the church's use of such "signs" as candles, book, vestments, etc.: 1) the utilitarian; 2) the pedagogical- symbolic, and 3) the historic. 1) The utilitarian purpose is clear enough: in almost every case, liturgical signs have an unambiguous functional reason-for-being. Candles, for example, are meant to illuminate; vestments have the function of directing attention away from the worship leader's personal idiosyncrasies the gaudy jewellery, the shiny trouser-seat, the mis-matched stockings--toward the event being celebrated. 2) The pedagogical-symbolic function of such signs is also important: the church teaches by means of them. Candles can be interpreted as a metaphor for Christ, the Light of the World, as example; vestments in their cut and colour suggest the season, the service, the office. 3) The historic character of such signs is also significant: of alb and stole and chasuble, says one pastor, "When I put on these vestments, I am two thousand years old!" See also below, section 6, Proper 26, page 41. Holy Week Wednesday: The Colour of Worship The use of colour in the church's tradition is not a matter of taste or preference, still less mere decoration. There is a long and vibrant history of colour usage in the Western church. Chief among the elaborations in that tradition in the West has been the association of specific colours with specific days and seasons in the church's calendar. Thus, the colour of Advent is the blue of hope and anticipation; the colour of Christmas and Epiphany is the white of joy and celebration; the colour of the post-Epiphany and post- Pentecost "ordinary days" is the green of nature's growth; the colour of Lent is a royal and penitential purple; the colour of Easter is radiant gold or white; and the colour of Pentecost and of martyrs' commemorations is the red of blood and fire. Of course, this ecclesiastical "colour code" is not an ontological constraint since these "meanings" are imputed and are not innate to the colours themselves. The colour code represents, instead, a fully human invention used by the church as a teaching device only since the Middle Ages. It is furthermore entirely culture-bound: it developed in the Western church, and is unfamiliar in the churches of the East--and perhaps actually problematic in the Far East, where, for example, the colour white is associated with funerals, and the colour purple with the clothing of widows! Further, imputed meanings must be taught. The colour indicated in LBW for Palm Sunday and Holy Week--scarlet--is a case in point. It is unclear, historically, just what the term "scarlet" was meant to suggest in the Middle Ages: it may have included any one of a wide range of dulled reds; it may even have included a kind of brown. Its use during these days is therefore new to us, and filled with unexploited potential as a teaching tool. My own Holy Week "scarlet" is a rich burgundy wool, suggesting, appropriately, both royalty and dried blood. And if your congregation is thinking of remodelling your worship space, by all means keep the constraints of the church's historic "colour code" firmly in mind. All permanent colour in the worship space is best kept neutral--earth tones, shades of grey--so as to permit the colours of the specific day or season, in vestments and paraments and banners, to speak with greatest force and clarity. A permanent orange-red carpet in the middle aisle may prove to be a liturgical mistake! Maundy Thursday: Celebrating Maundy Thursday Of all the church's rites, only the Easter Vigil is more complex than the rite for Maundy Thursday (LBW/MDE, page 136). Pastors and worship leaders will typically spend a good deal of time and energy reviewing its details. There are four grand movements: a corporate Confession and Forgiveness with optional laying-on-of-hands; the Service of the Word with optional footwashing; the Holy Communion; and the Stripping of the Altar. By all means use all four of these enormously moving rituals, including the options: your people will thank you. But beware. Prepare! Act One, a corporate Confession, is, for many, the highpoint of Holy Week worship. The opportunity for the laying-on-of-hands at an individual absolution can raise tears to the eyes. Maundy Thursday's absolution brings to a close the grand act of penitence begun on Ash Wednesday, and maintained throughout Lent. Act Two features the emotionally potent footwashing. Pastors will want to invite, well beforehand, representatives of various populations in the parish to participate: a youth, for example; an aged pensioner; a member with a disability; and of course both males and females. Three or four parish representatives will suffice. The tools for footwashing will be a handsome bowl and pitcher, perhaps crafted by a local potter, and the maniple or towel (see below, section 6, Proper 27, page 43) which, on Maundy Thursday, becomes a pre-eminent vestment of the clergy. On other occasions, as at a retreat or summer camp, a footwashing might include a larger group, each one washing and being washed. But today it is the pastor alone who washes feet, as a model of the Christ-like serving that belongs to the office of ordained ministry. Act Three is the Communion itself. We use real bread instead of wafers and real wine in a common cup. These are indispensable symbols of our oneness in Christ. Whatever the congregation's practice in receiving the communion, a common loaf and a common cup should appear on the table, if only for the consecration. Act Four is the Stripping of the Altar, still another "sign" with enormous emotional power. With reverent simplicity, and without undue haste, the entire worship space is denuded of every possible vestige of ornamentation or symbol. Acolytes or altar guild assist in this stripping. The worship space remains barren of all colour, all decoration, all ornamentation, all symbols, all extra furnishings, from this moment until Easter's Great Vigil. The one exception is that of the rough hewn cross that will be carried in procession during the Good Friday rite, to remain at the altar for most of Saturday. Good Friday: Celebrating Good Friday With the Stripping of the Altar on Maundy Thursday, the worship space on Good Friday is absolutely barren: no flowers, no greens, no colour, no paraments, no candles, no cross. If possible, even the credence has been removed. Since the service (LBW/MDE, page 138) centres on the adoration of the cross, a note of victory is not out of place this day. The great Bidding Prayer can be read by two voices: an assisting minister, the bids; the presiding minister, the collects (see below, section 9, page 4). The cross, carried in solemn solitary procession, is huge and rough-hewn. It should at least suggest the possibility of its being used for crucifixion: its size and scale are more important than other possible considerations--that it be fashioned from last season's Christmas tree, for example. The contemporary Anglican version of the Reproaches--you'll find them in the Anglican Book of Alternative Services, pages 314 to 316 (see above, section 4, Christmas Midnight, page 11, for Book of Alternative Services)--remain a heart-wrenching reminder of human culpability, without a hint of the anti-Semetisms that sullied earlier versions. Use them at rubric 13 (LBW/MDE, page 142), in lieu of Hymn 123. The service has no ending: worshippers leave in silence. Some may want to linger near the cross, to bow there in prayer, to touch its wood, or to kiss it. Do not discourage such piety. These gestures need not be understood as superstition, but as enacted prayers. See above, section 4, Proper 5, page 31, on the Sign of the Cross. Holy Saturday: Fasting from the Holy Meal Tradition to the contrary quite aside, there is no persuasive liturgical reason for not celebrating the Holy Communion on Good Friday and Saturday in Holy Week. A case might in fact be made that Holy Communion, supremely, belongs on these days. Nonetheless, the tradition of not celebrating the Holy Communion today continues to seem pastorally prudent at least in part because of an understandable fear that the Communion will soak up some of the lugubrious penitential piety that has infected these days, particularly in those ethnic communities where Communion was celebrated two or four times a year, including Good Friday (but not including Easter!). Until we out-live that debilitating piety, it may well be prudent to honour the tradition, and "fast" from the holy meal until the Vigil. Easter Vigil: Celebrating the Great Vigil The Vigil of Easter (LBW/MDE, page 143) is the richest, most sensuous, most complex, most soul-satisfying liturgy in the church's calendar. We cheat our people if we do not provide access to its riches. Its four grand movements include 1) anticipating the dawn of Easter in the Service of Light; 2) the Service of Readings (Be sure to read at least four lessons, including the first and fourth.); 3) the Baptisms (or renewal of baptismal vows); and 4) the first Communion of Easter. By all means do not fail to use the sensory enrichments the occasion suggests: the darkness before striking the new fire; the procession with the great Easter candle and incense; the oil of anointing; the lowering of the candle into the font (a marvellously evocative gesture, suggestive of creation and sanctification. See LBW/MDE, page 25, rubric 18); the asperges (sprinkling with water) during the renewal vows (page 25, rubric 19); a common loaf and cup at Communion. By all means try to schedule at least one Baptism for this occasion. Is full immersion a possibility, perhaps using a portable stock watering tank? Is a partial disrobing, within the bounds of propriety, an option? Perhaps several parishes can cooperate in planning and celebrating the Great Vigil. Some parishes may elect to conclude the Vigil with the baptismal service, or renewal of baptismal vows, and retain the celebration of Eucharist until the next morning, Easter Day. If the first Eucharist of Easter is to conclude and climax the Vigil, parishes may want to provide for a grand vesting of the worship space during the singing of the Hymn of Praise. "Glory to God..." is traditional, but "This is the feast..." seems even more appropriate. During the singing, bells ring out; baskets of flowers are brought forward to adorn the space; subdued darkness gives way to light; banners and paraments are put in place, perhaps balloons and paper streamers; and the pastors appear vested in resplendent gold or white. Children participate in a joyous cacophony of handbells, rattles, finger cymbals, and noisemakers. It is a moment of sensory overload, austerity giving way to opulence, restraint to unbridled exuberance. Easter Day: Celebrating Easter Easter Day will feature the best each parish has to offer, in preaching, in music, in decoration, in the competence and conviction of worship leaders. Flowers replace greens (at last!); banners--and balloons and paper streamers?--adorn the space; trumpets and tympany and handbells accompany the hymns. To heighten the season's festive mood, the Order for Confession and Forgiveness is omitted during the entire season, to reappear only with the "green" Sundays after Pentecost. The service might begin with the Quem Quaeritis trope, a simple six-line liturgical drama (see below). The "Alleluia" has returned; brighter psalm settings and the brighter canticles ("Let the vineyards" and "Thank the Lord") replace the more restrained chants of Lent. The Easter ambience of exuberant joy extends into Easter evening and throughout this season of "a week of weeks." Worshippers are encouraged throughout the season to stand, rather than kneel, for the reception of bread and cup at Communion (see above, this section, Lent 5, page 13). QUEM QUAERITIS TROPE A 10th century dramatization of the Introit for use as an Easter entrance rite [The congregation gathers in the narthex or hall outside the nave. Inside the nave, all is dark. At the entrance to the nave, in the doorway, stands the paschal candle, lighted earlier at the Great Vigil.] [A young man enters from the dark nave and stands by the paschal candle in the doorway. The man is vested in alb and deacon's stole (over the shoulder) and carries a palm branch. As he takes his place, the three Marys come through the congregation to the doorway and stand before the angel. The women are vested in alb and shawl or head-scarf. The first two carry a candle-holder and candle from the altar. The third carries a thurible or incense pot with incense burning. The Marys speak in unison.] A Whom do you seek in the sepulchre, O followers of Christ? M Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, O Celestial One. A [Gestures into the darkened nave.] He is not here. He is risen, as he said. M [Joyously!] Alleluia! The Lord is risen today! The Strong Lion, Christ the Son of God. Alleluia! A Come and see the place where the Lord was laid. Alleluia! Alleluia! [The angel turns to a table just inside the doorway, where the white altar cloth lies folded. He picks it up, still folded, and shows it to the Marys. The first Mary gives her candle to the second Mary, and takes the folded cloth from the angel.] Go quickly, tell the disciples that the Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! Alleluia! M The Lord is risen from the grave, who for us hung on the cross. Alleluia. [The angel carries the paschal candle into the nave, with the Marys, liturgical ministers and congregation following. All sing the processional hymn Jesus Christ Is Risen Today. As the congregation enters with noise- makers and banners -- Let every child of the parish, and anyone else who wishes, for that matter, have a noisemaker, banner, streamer or other item with which to participate in the grand parade. Here's a place to really involve the children of the parish! -- the angel places the paschal candle to the side of the altar. The Marys dress the altar with the cloth and candles.] [The service begins with the greeting "The Grace of our Lord," the Confession having been omitted.] Easter Evening: The Walk to Emmaus A service on Easter Evening? Why not--apart from the obvious constraint of most pastors' being totally wiped out by their joyful but exhausting labours of Holy Week! But here, once again, might be a chance for retired clergy in the parish or neighbourhood to be given opportunity to exercise their vocation, by serving up-front in a simple service of hymns and carols, bread and cup, on Easter Evening. And what a splendid Gospel text for Easter evening--the walk to Emmaus--with its eucharistic images! Perhaps with the expenditure of a little time, imagination, and energy, a group could be formed, of youth or adults or both, within the parish or wider community, to mime or otherwise dramatize such marvellously evocative stories as this one. The walk to Emmaus cries out to be dramatized: a lector reading the simple words from Luke at ambo or pulpit; the "disciples" walking barefoot "along the road"--the centre aisle in choir gowns or cassock and cotta; "Jesus" barefoot, in a simple alb; the action reaching its climax at the holy table. It could be an unforgettable moment in a week's worth of unforgettable moments! The account in Luke suggests one more possibility: an "Emmaus walk" as part of the schedule of a weekend retreat, perhaps later in the year. It provides opportunity for a kind of "stational" or "processional" worship in which teams of three are sent out, to walk a prescribed route, through a park or garden or retreat centre, to stop at specified locations along the route, with specific scripture, specific prayers or prayer concerns, and, significantly, specific topics for conversation "along the way." Such "stational" worship never fails to inspire, to motivate, and to deepen the sensibilities of participants. Easter 2: All God's Children Beginning with the Easter Vigil, and all during the weeks of the Easter season, might the children of the parish be given, when they enter the worship space, a small noise-maker--a tambourine, a rattle, a bracelet of sleighbells, a toy handbell in one of several pitches--to allow even non- readers to participate in the hymns and the music of these splendid liturgies? Two words of advice in this regard: 1) Keep the noisemakers in a box in the narthex and let children select their own, when they enter, for use during the service, and be certain to collect them when the service is over. 2) Ask nearby adults to help discipline the use of the noisemakers: "During hymns and chants only, please, kids; not when anybody is reading or speaking or praying." Remember, Jesus welcomed children! Children who have not yet learned to read should be encouraged to regard worship as belonging to them, as fully as to the "grownups," the literate, and the sighted. Blind or illiterate adults, the aged with failing eyesight, all may welcome this attempt to include them in God's praise. Further, as a friend maintains, children are the "miner's canary" of public worship. That is, if children are bored or restless during worship, something is wrong! And, of course, parishes will want to consider including even infants at the Lord's Table as Lutheran theology and the growing Lutheran and ecumenical consensus, reflected in ELCIC's Statement on Sacramental Practices, permit. Children, even infants, are quick to pick up signals when they are excluded from "Jesus' party"! Easter 3: Communion by Hand It could be argued that the medieval practice of receiving the communion bread on the tongue, rather than in the hand, has significant pedagogical and even theological warrant. It suggests the gesture and posture of infancy: a baby bird, more specifically, fed by its feathered parent, in a demonstration of total trust in the providence of the provider. For that reason alone it may well be best not to attempt to change the piety of worshippers for whom the posture continues to possess deep meanings. However, in training new communicants--confirmation classes, catechumens, adults about to be baptized--it seems prudent to recommend reception in the hand, for several reasons. First, among adults in our society it is the more natural way to eat: only infants, in North America, are fed hand-to-mouth. Second, receiving the bread in one's hand allows one to dip the bread in the cup, if one desires communion by intinction. Finally, hand-to-mouth reception arose in the Middle Ages out of clerical fear that superstitious peasant communicants would steal the bread for magic purposes, if it were simply delivered into the hand. Those fears are no longer persuasive today. Easter 4: Good Shepherd Sunday "Good Shepherd Sunday" recalls a beloved image of Jesus, even among contemporary Christians who have never seen a shepherd... or a sheep. It is a favourite visual metaphor from antiquity. Surviving mosaics and frescoes from the first three centuries of Christian history feature Christ most often as a beardless "good shepherd." The 23rd Psalm might be sung today by choir and people in Joseph G‚lineau's lovely setting. See above, section 4, Christmas 2, page 19 on the G‚lineau Psalter. After the reading of the Gospel, but before the sermon, a child from the congregation, with significant skills in public reading, might recite William Blake's brief and beautiful poem, "The Lamb," which witnesses winsomely to Christ. It might be an even more endearing moment if the child were to carry in the arms a favourite stuffed animal, a woolly lamb. Children, including infants, will be welcomed at the Lord's Table, as at every Eucharist, but with a special warmth today. Easter 5: Church Music Sunday There is a long tradition in the West of observing one of the post-Easter Sundays as "Church Music Sunday." The obvious qualification comes to mind whenever such programmatic concerns arise in worship planning: every Sunday is of course "Church Music Sunday," in the sense that music belongs, at every celebration. Music enlarges our worship. Music gives us voice to double our praise. Bis orat, qui cantat. ("Those who sing pray twice.") With this qualification firmly in mind, it is nevertheless fully within our authority to give special honour, at least once a year, to the contributions of music and musicians, and perhaps to offer them, on this day, enlarged opportunity to proffer their gifts: organists, instrumentalists, vocalists, choirs. A brief motet or cantata; special instrumentation at hymns or chants; an extended psalm setting--none of these would be out of place at any service, on any Sunday. So also, and especially, today! Easter 6: Rogation Days The Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before the Ascension have been celebrated for centuries in north European countries as Rogation Days: days when special prayers are offered--rogation means praying--for fields and crops, for planting and harvesting. Would it be out of place for congregations to observe the Sunday before these days, the Sixth Sunday of Easter, as a kind of Christian "Earth Day" or "Environment Sunday"? Keeping in mind the kinds of qualifications necessary whenever programmatic instincts arise to encumber worship (see above, this section, Easter 5, page 41: "Every Sunday should be Earth Day") it nevertheless seems pastorally responsible for parishes to schedule a kind of Blessing of the Fields on this Sunday, perhaps as a special rite immediately following Holy Communion, or as an afternoon or evening event. The observance should by all means feature a congregational procession, with cross and banners and torches, understood unapologetically as a Christian political protest march (see above, this section, Palm Sunday, page 15), to park or garden or field (or garbage dump!). Prayers, scripture readings, psalms, and hymns are suggested in materials available from a wide variety of sources. Ascension: Celebrating the Ascension The metaphors associated with this day could be problematic for many modern people, since we in the Twentieth Century have come to regard the primitive acceptance of a "three-storied universe" as hopelessly quaint and pre-scientific. Are we compelled to accept this primitive metaphor--that in the Ascension, Jesus goes "upstairs" to God--in preaching or teaching or prayers? No. There must surely be other, more contemporary, more intellectually-satisfying interpretations of this profession of faith for modern believers. Theologically, the Ascension functions in a satisfying and necessary symmetry with the Virgin Birth: the Eternal Word, having entered human life in the birth of Christ, now returns, at the Ascension, to take up again the majesty of Godhead. But the credibility of Christian faith certainly does not stand or fall with either profession. Neither Virgin Birth nor Ascension is an essential article of faith. In scripture, Paul knows nothing of either; so also with Mark; so with John. We could describe both Virgin Birth and Ascension as pious but venerable Christian "myths" (in the technical sense), or metaphors, if those words did not so puzzle--and enrage!--some sensibilities. Yet how else can the Gospel event be explained, without access to such metaphors? We are justified in becoming "like little children" at this point. With Job, I am willing to "lay my hand upon my mouth" in humility, and confess the Creeds wholeheartedly with the simplest souls among us! But in Bible studies, and in preaching in the presence of others with sturdy faith and searching intellect, we might want to say more, as above. Our celebration of the day will again feature those signs of joy, victory, accomplishment, and completion that are invariably used among us on such occasions: white vestments, paraments and banners; special music; resplendence (rather than austerity) in visual and sensory stimuli; dynamic preaching. As on all "white" days (and most "red" days) the Confession is omitted; a procession of choir (and children?) and worship leaders is in order at the entrance hymn. Easter 7: Christs to One-Another This day occupies a kind of liturgical vacuum. It belongs rightly to the joy of Easter's "week of weeks," but the Ascension is behind us, and Pentecost is still ahead. The Gospel, in all three years of our Cycle, quotes, quite appropriately, from Jesus' "high priestly prayer," which is itself dense with meaning and yields its treasures only with diligent study. In these lections the theme of unity is paramount: the unity of Christ with God, of the disciples with Christ, and of the disciples--followers of Christ--with one another. Where is Christ present now among us? The answer can only be in us: in our assemblies, in our weekly Word and Sacrament, in our body. We--Christian people!--are the Holy Communion. In our Baptism, we share with Christ his authority and responsibility to "messiah" our world, to be "christs to one- another," as Luther put it. All the signs of joy and celebration that pertain to Easter's joy are present in our worship today as well. Pentecost Vigil: Celebrating the Vigil of Pentecost Have any parishes heeded this observance since it was introduced among us almost twenty years ago? It would be refreshing to see congregations begin to observe the Vigil of Pentecost (LBW/MDE, page 157), introduced in LBW experimentally as a ritual parallel to the much-beloved "vigil" of Christmas (Christmas Eve) and the much more venerable Vigil of Easter, but I suspect that the Vigil of Pentecost has been largely ignored. Perhaps the observance might gain attractiveness if, in its form and practice, it were presented as a clear alternative to the Christmas and Easter eve observances: namely, as a once-a-year opportunity for a real around-the-clock vigil. This was the original intention in any "vigil:" a keeping-watch through the hours of the night, in prayer and scripture reading and meditation. I can imagine such an around-the-clock Vigil of Pentecost attractive to many, especially the congregation's youth. Trying that on Christmas or Easter is big trouble since you provoke the wrath of parents, whose kids are wiped out, for lack of sleep, during the biggest "family days" of the year. But Pentecost? An all-night vigil before this Feast might actually catch on. Hence, a proposal: How about an all-night Vigil of Pentecost, with youth (and adults) pre- registering for half-hour intervals, "keeping watch" in the candle-lit worship space, with the aid of prescribed prayers and scripture readings--and perhaps sleeping bags in the Sunday school rooms, and a festive breakfast after the parish's Pentecost Holy Communion? The colour of this vigil is the red of fire and blood. Elaborations in Pentecost decoration (see below, this section, Day of Pentecost, page 51) would have to be in place before the Vigil begins. Pentecost: Celebrating the Day of Pentecost On this day, once again, the church "pulls out all the stops" (a metaphor borrowed from church organists!). Flowers and greens are massed in the worship space, but of course do not impede the ritual movement of worship leaders or worshippers. The peony flower is especially welcome: it is the "Pentecost rose" in some cultures. The colour red, suggesting fire and blood, predominates. Can worshippers be encouraged, the week before, to come to worship this day dressed in red? It makes a striking picture! As on all festive days, there is no Confession (see above, section 4, Christmas Day, page 15). A procession is appropriate at the entrance, with at least choir and worship leaders, and perhaps also children. After the reading of the Gospel in English, recent and not-so-recent immigrant members of the parish rise one by one to read at least a single verse in the language of "the old country," from a treasured "old country" copy of the Bible: a "speaking in tongues." The brighter chants and canticles serve the community today.