Ascension Day At St. Paul's

[Jesus said] "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. Acts 1:8-9

When my younger sister was here in London with me, we stumbled across an amazing surprise. Typically, St. Paul's offers a noon service without communion, but as we wandered through the church we knew something special was about to happen. Set up to the side was a huge bowl, which seemed like a punch-bowl sized thurible, and smoke was just starting to rise from it. Communion chalices were coming out as well, so we realized that perhaps we would be interested in this particular service.

Since we hadn't been following the liturgical calendar closely that week, we were surprised to learn that we had found ourselves in church on Ascension Day. So, before we climbed up to the very top of the dome in St. Paul's, we paused with a handful of other tourists to celebrate the mystery of Christ's ascension.

The service itself was lovely, with a special choral ensemble for the occasion and an encouraging sermon which did nothing to help understand the strangeness of the ascension itself but nonetheless assured us it was all a good thing. But most remarkable to me was the cloud of smoke that rose up to the very top of the church's iconic dome. Part-way through the service more incense was added, creating fresh clouds wafting up through the church. After the service, we climbed into the upper galleries where we could not only still smell it, but we could actually still see the smoke hanging in the air. The whole atmosphere of the church had been literally changed.

I wonder what it must have been like for the disciples on the day that they saw Jesus ascend into heaven. I can't even picture their level of surprise; it certainly doesn't even register on the same scale as my pleasant surprise at the noon worship. But their world was changed, too. I wonder how they felt Christ's presence around them, palpable and thick. Was it comforting to some, oppressive to others, and unsettling to still more? Did they wonder if the memories of their teacher would fade with time? Did it get harder to feel close to him the further their travels took them?

Most importantly, the atmosphere of their lives had been changed as well. While the smoke hanging in the church was temporal, the affect Christ had on their lives - and continues to have today - is not. His grace envelopes us completely and never washes off. Even though we cannot see him in the flesh today, his Spirit still remains with us, guiding and encouraging us at all time.

Most Powerful and Amazing God, with your Son's birth, life, death, resurrection and ascension, the world was completely and permanently changed. Give us the grace to daily live that change, serving you and our neighbor with complete dedication and joy. Send us your Spirit, that we can always be encouraged by your presence in our lives. We pray these things in the name of the Risen and Ascended Lord, Amen.

Anglican Evensong

I call upon you, O Lord; come quickly to me; give ear to my voice when I call to you. Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice. - Psalm 141:1-2

One of the great things to experience here in London, in the heart of the Anglican faith, is Evensong. Almost every church offers it, but it is especially amazing to experience at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral. Both churches have incredible male choirs complete with young boy choristers who are taught and trained in on-site schools. The hard work certainly pays off. As soon as they open their mouths, you realize what choirs of angels might actually sound like.

Not only am I raised in the Lutheran tradition, but I swear I learned how to read by following hymns and liturgies in the big, green Lutheran Book of Worship. Therefore, I learned my place in a service: respond in the bold type, sing every verse of a hymn, and even if you're not actively vocalizing you should at least follow along. This is not the case in Evensong. In fact, the point of the service seems almost to be complete exclusion of the congregation. There are scripture readings and a sermon, and there's usually at least one hymn that the congregation joins in on, but otherwise the service is performed almost completely by the choir. Sometimes, it almost feels like a concert and not a service.

However, this does not necessarily bother me. Sometimes, I need to simply sit back and allow myself to be filled. Instead of worrying if I've found the right page or am pronouncing words correctly of even if I'm supposed to be speaking at all, I can revel in the gorgeous surroundings and resonant music. It gives worshipers space to pray, meditate, and be inspired to start another week fresh. The inspiration may come from the choir, but the prayers are nonetheless my own.

Even if you don't have access to a historic Anglican worshiping community, you can allow yourself time and space to open up and put everything before God. Too often, our days fly by so quickly that instead of lifting our hands in prayer and sacrifice, we let our heads hit the pillow heavy with worries and frustrations. Perhaps we would all do better if we took a step back, found music or a devotional that inspired us without demanding too much for us, and created a space to allow the Spirit to ease our burdens.

God of mercy, come to us in the evening and grant us rest. We offer you all we have, and ask that you take from us our fears and our frustrations in return. We can give you only our love and devotion, and in return you give us your everlasting grace. Grant that we might be still in your presence and turn to you faithfully in prayer. In Christ's name, Amen.

Penetecost Sunday At St. Paul's Cathedral

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. - Acts 2:1-4

What a fantastic and mysterious experience is Pentecost! Even as a child, I can remember being entranced by the event. Tongues of fire? Instantaneous linguists? Even the derisive on-lookers later in the story that determine all the disciples were drunk simply add to the allure of the story. Later in my life, preachers made me smile by focusing on the female aspects brought to the Trinity by the language used surrounding the Holy Spirit and her action through the Scriptures. Today, my Pentecost Sundays are filled with my prayers for the same to happen to me - especially if it means I could speak better Italian.

I knew I would want to experience this great event in a great place, and since I had a visitor in town, we went to St. Paul's Cathedral in London. This is an impressive space, rebuilt after the Great Fire of 1666 and iconic to the London skyline especially as it stood firm among the rubble during World War II. With its renowned choir and illustrious staff, I was sure we'd be in for a treat. I especially held out hope that I would be treated to a sermon that gave me a new perspective on an event that holds great importance not only for me, but for Christianity world-wide.

As has been the case more and more for me here, this was not exactly the case. Certainly, the service was amazing. After all, the space inside the cathedral soars and glows with mosaics, arches, domes and stained glass. The choir, complete with its boy's choir, simply danced through a series of classical and contemporary works that showcased their ability. The service itself was rich in Anglican pageantry, something I have come to truly appreciate. There was, however, an emptiness to the service in the spot I treasure most: the sermon.

After all, it is in the sermon that the preacher has the opportunity to take the scriptural stories and concepts and flesh them out. Not only does this aid comprehension, but it creates a space where each listener is invited in to the mystery and connect it to his or her own life and faith. Here, the Holy Spirit itself breaks in and opens hearts and minds. Granted, this can be done regardless of the quality of the sermon. Even if (God forbid!) we only ever preached boring, dry, rambling, expository sermons for the rest of the life of the church, somehow the Spirit would still break past our glazed-over eyes and yawning faces. However, if we take seriously the call to preach, we know that we are called to not just go through the motions but give everything we have.

The trend I seem to notice here, especially in churches that see mostly tourists for a congregation and draw crowds based primarily on their history, is that the style and structure of a sermon's delivery is more important than its content. This leads to a great deals of sermons written in perfect three-point style, carefully written to include an educated vocabulary, spoken with impeccable diction and clarity. After about three minutes, the sermon is completely dead - but at least it sounds nice. Unfortunately, this sermon was no different. I had to simply bide my time until the choir started singing again, since at least they brought passion to the Word.

I realize that preachers all have different gifts, and for everyone who is moved by a fervent, witty sermon there is someone who needs a deliberate, methodical sermon. I thank God that there is this variety in preachers, as we would otherwise be a very boring lot. But I do hope that the Holy Spirit would indeed fill each and every preacher with a palpable fire that not only gives them style but substance, not just form but function, not only clarity but conviction.

Triune God, as you came to the disciples in tongues of fire, light up our hearts today. Give our words and actions the fullness of your grace so that we can live with the fire of your love. May our words be full of not only wisdom but passion as we share your Word in this world. We pray these things in your holy name, Amen.

Wesley Day

When [Jesus] came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Luke 4:16-21

Living in London, at a different end of the Reformation from Rome, offers a different set of possibilities and options for a seminarian. One of these was Wesley Day, a day of celebration for the conversion of John Wesley. They do indeed use the word "conversion" in this strongly Anglican city, although Wesley always held that his beliefs were within the bounds of Anglican faith. Held by Wesley’s Chapel & Leysian Mission in John Wesley's chapel, the event was to celebrate the life and faith of an influential man and his family. The event was well-attended by representatives of many denominations across London, and all seemed to be

We began with a service of Eucharist at Wesley’s Chapel, which was wonderful in its own right. Especially delightful was the impromptu hymn-singing during distribution, where the organist simply picked up when the congregation started. The service was followed immediately by a procession to Susanna Wesley’s Grave in Bunhill Fields Cemetery for a wreath-laying. The cemetery is just across the street from the chapel and made a fitting tribute to a wonderful woman whose husband and sons played a very influential role in the development of the protestant belief system, not just in England but in the United States as well. I was honored to be a part of the ceremony.

However, seeing as I'm on a preaching fellowship, I was most particularly interested in hearing the sermon for this service. After all, Wesley was known for his preaching, a style and delivery that seemed to galvanize people. Part of me truly hoped that the preacher would even haul us outside Wesley-style to hear the Word in the open air. Indeed, the preacher did know quite a bit about John Wesley and his brother Charles, and spent a great deal of time outlining their lives. Unfortunately, that is the only thing he did. He took no time to bring us the Word, he simply paid tribute to an important family.

I have heard it said that you know you're headed the right direction in a sermon if Christ had to die for your words. To put it another way, when we preach, we do not deliver a eulogy. We don't talk in niceties or focus on earthly matters. We can use these things, but they are means to an end. When we preach, we preach Christ and him crucified. It may be a whole lot easier to talk about smart people or academic concepts, but these great things do not a sermon make. Wesley would likely be very frustrated if a service in his honor focused on him and not the Word of God.

In a way, Christ's sermon in Luke seems to defeat this logic. After all, he's just talking about himself - something novice preachers are warned to stay away from. However, this is the Son of God we're talking about. He is trying to reveal God's own presence and promise to those around him. No matter how revolutionary this message is, it is essential to the life of those listening. In these days, when Christ is no longer physically here to teach us directly, it is left to the preachers to bring the Word of God to worship. Even in an individual's daily life, we are called not just to be good people and to say nice things, but to actively proclaim Christ in our lives.

Our Gracious God, we are weak. Your Word is so great that sometimes we are unsure how to proclaim it. Forgive us for taking the easy way, for beating around the bush, for considering ourselves unworthy of Your Son's gift. Send your Holy Spirit to inspire us, so that our words might be your Words. Bless especially those who preach, that they might continue to have the courage to speak the truth in love. In Christ's name, Amen.