Sarx

We continue with the serialised posting of Rick Fabian’s Worship At St Gregory’s. These few remaining post-communion rites conclude the liturgy proper as well as the portion of the text dealing with the liturgy itself.

E Give in response to God’s gifts to us, and so take part in God’s generosity. Hence this moment is the classical, and classically Anglican, moment for collecting contributions, alms and food for the poor. The deacon announces, “Seeing how freely God loves us, let us share the good things we have received, so that all the world may know God’s love.” The congregation fill baskets with tinned food and clothes for the homeless, and money for the Church’s work, and place these gifts on the altar table with the remaining bread and wine.

Here is the reason we do not remove the eucharistic remains to the sacristy, as is the current fashion. By joining the people’s gifts with God’s gifts at this point, we make plain that all our gifts come from God — not that we receive the eucharistic gifts in return for our offerings, as a laypeople’s “offertory” procession unhappily implies. Recently some reformers have recanted their earlier sponsorship for the laypeople’s “offertory” procession, and argued for almsgiving after communion as the classic and best arrangement. (*) After an initial experiment with almsgathering at the very end of the service (newcomers were confused and did not contribute) we moved this action to the postcommunion, with more fruitful results.

Polychronia We sing Polychronia (”God grant them many years!”) on a famous Russian melody to people celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, to new members, newlyweds, newborns, newly baptized, or a guest preacher. (When the Bishop visits we sing this chant during the Missa instead: see below.)

Carol After giving quick instruction, the clergy and the cantor lead the congregation dancing around the altar table and all the gathered gifts, singing a hymn. Medieval carols originally were dances in which the dancers sang the music, as we do, and we call this event “the Carol.” Today medieval dance steps are too complex and athletic for our purpose. Instead we use one of five simple Greek steps—each suiting a different hymn rhythm— that are even more ancient (two appear in moisaics of Alexander the Great) and still live in Greek folk dance. These repeat a single figure over and over, so they are simple to learn and sing to; and they move steadily to one side, so the dancers can feel and see the whole group moving together. We accompany the dance with drums and sistrums, as Ethiopian Christians do, and we normally use the same Carol hymn two or three weeks running, so people can join in with easy familiarity.

Dancing has drawn even more enthusiasm than we hoped. Before founding St Gregory’s, we experimented with caroling at the Episcopal Church at Yale, where it became a popular Easter event. And after St Gregory’s first Easter our people insisted they wanted to dance at every liturgy. So we do, even on Good Friday. Indeed, counting the Tripudium procession to the altar, our congregation dance twice. Very occasionally a newcomer opts out, but by this point most have abandoned all hope for a normal church service, and will give another novelty a try. Those who do almost always say they enjoyed it.

Missa The Christian eucharist has known a huge variety of endings, from a simple exchange of the Peace to a long chain of hymns, prayers, and washing up. These endings have included prayers of thanksgiving after communion and farewell benedictions. Most popular was the Missa, in which the Bishop went to the center of the nave (”behind the Ambo”), extended his hands over the people in a final prayer, and the whole congregation came for him to lay hands on them in quick succession. This ritual was also called “coming to the bishop’s hand,” and in fourth century Jerusalem it concluded all services, eucharistic or not, even if the bishop had to be hauled into church at the final moment to perform it. (*)

When the Bishop is present at St Gregory’s (and we do have them, often), the Polychronia chant accompanies this exuberant, affectionate and tumultuous ritual. Singing the congregation rush forward around the Bishop, who lays hands speedily on everyone’s heads, praying blessings over and over. Already popular in fourth century Jerusalem, the Missa soon spread among all churches, because it allows everyone a chance to feel palpably the Bishop uniting us in prayer fellowship with Christians everywhere.

Our restored Missa has proved overwhelmingly popular — indeed, our Bishop loved it at once. In 1993 he led the Diocesan Convention in celebrating the liturgy as we do at St Gregory’s, and specifically asked for the Missa. After only a brief hesitation, three hundred delegates pressed forward eagerly for a blessing and touch from his hand, while all sang the Polychronion. The entire ceremony lasted less than three minutes.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta — the Roman Catholic Church’s first woman bishop since Teresa of Ávila — did this same heartwarming ceremony every time she entered a house of her nuns. The Missa has given us the word “Mass” (from the Roman deacon’s final plea: “Ite, missa est‚ — That was the Missa; now go home!”) and the western sacramental ritual of Confirmation, originally a bishop’s Missa after baptism.

Finishing the Feast At last the colorful altar cloths, alms and tinned food for the poor give place to coffee and cakes set out on the bare altar table; the doors re-open; and the congregation consume the remaining bread and wine along with the other food, lingering to greet each other as long as they wish—usually a good while. Thus the familiar parish coffee hour continues the eucharistic feast, still centered on Jesus’ table, and the liturgical gathering gradually returns to the place it began: the open doors through which the world enters the church and the church enters the world.

Editor’s Note: When last I was at SGN, in October of 2007, the coffee hour continued with a pot-luck (or, as we say in Dixie, a covered-dish) luncheon, held in the church around the altar. I was told this new tradition has been increasing in regularity.

This is an adaptation of a custom I’ve seen at many Orthodox parishes which offer lunch after liturgy. The usual claim is since Orthodox must fast for 12 hours before communion, it is important to break the fast. But in fact this meal, called in the Russian Orthodox tradition, “Trapeza”, is the continuation of the ancient Agape Feast. Trapeza means “Table” and it was intended as exactly that: another table, like the altar, around which the community gathers for fellowship. It was also a way to share food (”communion-like”) with those who were not prepared or otherwise denied communion. Since SGN does not deny communion, what we see - in the luncheon, as well as in the more anaemic, tradtional “coffee hour”, is the desire for and the manifestation of the earliest churchs’ constant living of community. - DHR

Tags: carol, fabian, liturgy, missa, offering, sgn, singing