Update: Correction of readings for this Sunday – new version now uploaded

Friday 20 February 2009 — well, that wasn’t a great start! I’ve just noticed that the readings for this Sunday were incorrect in the original version. I’d mistakenly entered the readings for the Sunday of the “Week of Proper 7 (Sunday between 18 and 24 Feb)” when it should have been the readings for the Sunday before Lent. Apologies.

The uploaded version is now correct. Apologies for any incorrectly preached sermons this coming weekend!

Well, it’s only taken me about 3 months longer than I had meant it to — which funnily enough coincides with how old my twin sons are! — but I’ve finally completed the mammoth task of compiling the import files that will provide you with the saints days, festivals, Sundays and readings for daily eucharists and daily prayer within Microsoft Outlook (and your PDA if you sync it with Outlook).

Versions

Current version: 2008-2009 version 2
Released Friday 20 February 2009

As last year I’ve created three files:

1. Standard
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, but details of no readings (my usual file).
2. Sunday readings
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, and readings for only Sundays and Major Festivals.
3. Complete
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, and readings for all Sunday, Festival and Daily Eucharists, and Daily Prayer readings, as well as new for this year: which Daily Prayer set to use (e.g. Week A, Week B, Festivals, Incarnation, etc.).

Readings

In the “Complete” version, the readings for ordinary saints days and lesser festivals are simply those for that day of the week in relation to the previous Sunday rather than specifically for that minor saint/festival. For example, the readings given for Colman of Lindisfarne (Friday 18 February, today) are those for the Wednesday after Epiphany 6.

In other words, I’ve used only readings from The Lectionary and the Readings for Festivals, and not those from elsewhere or from the Readings for Special Occasions or Common Readings for Saints Days.

Download

Download your file of choice on the Saints and Festivals of the SEC in Microsoft Outlook page.

Report all errors

As always, if you spot an error please let me know so that I can fix the source file for other users. Thank you.

Every week I get an email newsletter from The Alban Institute. Each issue contains a leading article, usually about some area of church leadership, followed by a few book reviews and adverts about upcoming US-based seminars and workshops.

It’s really interesting if you’re into that sort of thing. I usually have a cursory read through the article and then delete the email. It’s usually about stuff that doesn’t really concern me now that I’m no longer in a position of parish leadership. But today’s email grabbed me; enough to blog about it.

It was entitled “Eucharist as a Way of Life“.

Eucharistic actions

If you’ve ever watched an Anglican or Roman Catholic priest setting up an altar before Eucharist (Mass) and clearing up afterwards you’ll know that he or she goes through a set routine involving a number of items:

• Chalice (cup)
• Paten (plate)
• Ciborium (container for bread)
• Corporal (like a cloth place mat)
• Purificator (napkin)
• Pall (card that sits over the chalice to protect anything from falling into the cup)

When setting up the altar the corporal is unfolded and lined up with the edge of the altar. Onto this is placed the chalice and ciborium (if used). At this point the paten, which is resting on top of the chalice is removed and placed on the corporal. The purificator is placed to the right side of the chalice on top of the purificator.

After the Eucharist everything is carefully cleared away. The remaining bread is consumed, crumbs are tapped into the chalice and any remaining wine is also consumed. Water is then poured (over the priests fingers to wash them) into the chalice (cup) and ciborium (bread container); some priests also pour water into the paten (plate) but I tend to just wipe it with the damp purificator after I’ve dried the chalice. That water is then also consumed and the vessels are dried with the purificator.

Then, without being too vulgar about it, the dishes are ‘stacked up’: the damp purificator is scrunched up and placed into the chalice, the paten is rested on top, then the pall and the corporal is folded up and placed on top of that. The lid is replaced on the ciborium and in modern ceremonies everything is then passed off the altar to a side table called a credence table.

Connections

Before I was ordained I always used to wonder what was going on here. The Eucharist is supposed to be about a meal, a family meal, with the family (the congregation) gathered around the table with Jesus. But this just seemed to be so removed from real life.

Until I visited Pluscarden Abbey in Moray, and then it all made perfect sense.

I had the priviledge (and being male certainly helped) of eating in the refrectory with the Benedictine Monks at Pluscarden during my pre-ordination retreat in 1999 and it was while watching them during the meal that made me understand for the first time that what we do at the altar as priests during the Eucharist made perfect sense.

I watched the monks receive their dishes at the table and unfolding their large napkins they placed it on the table, beneath their bowl, and the rest they tucked into their robe. It was similar to what I do with the corporal (the large, white ‘place mat’). Food was eaten, fingers washed into their bowls, the bowls were washed out with water and wiped dry with the napkin.

As I sat there I was able to finally make the connection between the Eucharist and an ordinary, everyday meal. Sure, most of us don’t eat our meals that way anymore, but many years ago we would have. We would have gone to church and watched the priest do what each of us would have done each and every day in preparing a meal which we all share in, except from one cup and plate rather than one each, and that would have shaped our view of meals and of our life.

Four gestures

In his article Paul Galbreath writes

The four basic gestures — taking, blessing, breaking, and giving — at the center of the eucharistic prayer provide a shape or outline for Christian life.

As we consider the pattern of prayer at Table, these gestures provide a basis for Christian action at the Lord’s Table and at the other tables around which we gather. The shape of the prayer at table builds on the shape of the gospel as it provides a pattern for our lives.

He concludes the article by saying “regularly gathering around the table to participate in communion provides a template for Christian virtues and practices: living with thankful hearts, forgiving our neighbours, depending on God’s provision, welcoming strangers, practicing hospitality, sharing our belongings, recognizing Christ’s presence, caring for all of God’s creation, and giving up power.” That sounds like a good pattern to live by.

You can read the full article: Eucharist as a Way of Life on The Alban Institute website.

Ordinarily today would be St Patrick’s Day, it being the seventeenth of March. However, as this is now Holy Week which kind of trumps all other lesser festivals, it isn’t.

The Roman Catholic Church moved his feast to Saturday 15 March this year, the Scottish Episcopal Church have moved celebration of his life and witness to the earliest opportunity following Holy Week and Easter Week, which is (I’m not kidding) Tuesday 1 April.

According to the Irish Independent newspaper:

In strict accordance with the rules, this year’s St Patrick’s Day should have been moved to the next available day in the Church calendar, Tuesday, April 1.

However, senior clerics were anxious to keep the date as close as possible to the international civic celebrations, which are often planned many years in advance.

After much deliberation, Rome gave Irish authorities the green light to shift the official religious celebrations two days back to March 15, which falls on a Saturday.

Categories

In the Scottish Episcopal Church calendar all festivals (also called “feast days”) are categorised with a number from 1 to 6, with 1 being highest.

Sundays in Advent are category 1, as is Christmas Day, The Epiphany, Sundays in Lent, every day in Holy Week, Easter Day and Pentecost.

Christmas Eve is a category 2, so are the Annunciation and Trinity Sunday. There don’t appear to be many category 2 festivals.

Most ordinary Sundays (i.e. those that are not major festivals) are given a category 3, and major saints a category 4, such as the Apostles, Mary the Mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and certain national saints (such as St Patrick).

Category 5 is reserved for the likes of Corpus Christi, the Birth of Mary, Mother of the Lord, Holy Cross Day and All Souls Day.

The rest of the saintly masses (lesser saints and commemorations) are bundled into category 6.

Transferred

So according to the notes to the “Guide to the use of the Calendar and Lectionary during 2007-08″:

Patrick, Bishop (17 March) and Joseph of Nazareth (19 March) falling in Holy Week are transferred respectively to the Tuesday and Wednesday after the Second Sunday of Easter (1 April and 2 April).

But why not transfer these festivals to the Monday and Tuesday? Because the Annunciation of the Lord (a category 2 feast) already falls on that day!

Simple, huh!

Anyway, Happy not-St Patrick’s Day.

Tomorrow, I’m preaching once again at St Mary’s, Newport-on-Tay so having had a full and busy week I’m sitting at my PC on Saturday morning/afternoon pouring over the gospel reading (John 4: 5-42) searching for inspiration.

I already have a sermon that I’ve preached on this Sunday in the lectionary (Year A, Lent 3) but I’m keen to write something else, something new. Despite feeling quite exhausted, dizzy and in need of a long and welcome sleep.

One of the threads that is woven throughout the opening chapters of the Gospel according to St John is that of transformation, starting with Jesus’s changing of water into wine. I could do with some transformation this afternoon, starting with the changing of my blank word processor document into a sermon!

Whose idea was it to have Lent so early this year?! Today I suspect that a lot of people will be giving up Lent for chocolate.

Lindt today, Lent tomorrow.

Happy St Valentine’s Day everyone. xxx

Reorientation

This morning I got up nice and early, around 07:00, because I really felt the need to get back into a regular rhythm.

I find the period between Advent 4 and Epiphany quite disorienting. For the other 50 weeks of the year Sunday is still my reference point from which the rest of my week’s activities are built. If I’m preaching, for example, that affects what I do during the week and when I do it.

But between Advent 4 and Epiphany the focus moves from Sundays to the feast days: Christmas Day, Boxing Day, Hogmanay, New Year’s Day, Epiphany, and I’m left wondering “what day is it today?”

Letting go

After morning prayer I read a chapter from Richard Rohr’s book Simplicity: The Freedom of Letting Go (Crossroad, 1991), in it he writes:

All spirituality is about letting go; how to let go of our security, our good reputation, our identity and our self-image. (p.107) …

You have to leave the world where you have everything under control, where everybody likes you, and head into a world where you are poor and powerless. And there you’ll be converted despite yourself. (p.113)

The irony didn’t escape me that while the spiritual path is about letting go, Christmas has become a time for acquiring more stuff.

So much of our identity and security is tied up in our things, our belongings. We often seem more comfortable defining ourselves by what we wear, where we live, what we own, what we do, than in simply who we are.

When meeting strangers the first question we often ask, after “what’s you name?” is “so … what do you do?” My former flatmate Jonny and I at parties in London instead used to ask people what their favourite cheese was.

Moving

We moved house twice last year (2006), three times if you include moving out of our holiday cottage Kadesh. I became the most pragmatic and utilitarian that I’ve ever been during that time and threw out or gave away a load of my stuff. Things that I’ve not used for years.

The reason that I know I did the right thing is that I now can’t remember what I got rid of. I didn’t need it.

Last year I also moved out of full-time parish ministry and into non-stipendiary ministry. A “minister without portfolio” one of my friends calls me. I moved out primarily because of my health (kidney disease) but also because I felt that God was calling me to let go of my familiar, relatively-safe position/role within the church. I needed to go out into the unknown and witness to the resurrected crucified Christ “out there”.

It’s exactly what Rohr was writing about:

You have to leave the world where you have everything under control, where everybody likes you, and head into a world where you are poor and powerless. And there you’ll be converted despite yourself. (Rohr, op. cit. p.113)

Afraid

I can’t tell you how afraid I was to let go of my life and work within the church structures. I cried about it, day after day, for months. “What if I can’t do anything else?” I used to ask Jane.

Jane believed in me, God believed in me, I didn’t.

It took me months to slowly build up the belief that I was able to do more than I was able to do in the parish, that my gifts and skills extended beyond presiding at liturgy, preaching and meeting people.

It was a long and dark path at times. But it was all about letting go. Letting go of my false self-images, letting go of my pride, my self-identity (as a full-time priest), letting go of the Church job that I both loved and at the same time found to be a terrific burden.

Two years later …

And now, almost two years after finally saying to God “Okay … I’ll do it, I’ll move out of full-time parish ministry, I’ll trust you…” I find myself in a position that I couldn’t have dreamed of being in.

Every day I wake up feeling blessed that God has brought us here, and each day I ask God to reveal where he wants to lead me next, to keep my eyes open to where he is already at work in the unexpected places.

I believe that religion is the safest place to avoid God, because God wants to lead us to self-surrender, and all too often religion teaches us only self-control. (Rohr, op. cit. p.122)

But then, I don’t believe that Christianity is meant to be a religion. But that’s for another post.

God our Father,
in this night you have made known to us again
the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ:
confirm our faith and fix our eyes on him
until the day dawns
and Christ the Morning Star rises in our hearts.
To him be glory both now and for ever.
Amen

Here’s the text of my homily from last night’s carol service at St Salvator’s Chapel, University of St Andrews.

It was a real privilege to preach at such an event, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I was nervous before hand. Really nervous; my mouth went dry, but such are depths of cassock pockets I had a 1 litre bottle of Volvic (which did contain only the purest H₂O) hidden in there from which I took a few swigs before climbing the steps to the pulpit, to deliver my homily, across from Dr Lang, the University’s Principal and Vice-Chancellor.

But once I got up there and began, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen”, I was fine. I was in my element, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Unlike the poor folks at the back of the chapel, for whom the PA system had, unknown to me, died during the second or third reading. Still, some folks back there said that they could hear me as I’d spoken loudly and clearly. Oh, my mother will be proud of me.

Anyway, here’s my homily / address / reflection:

“Christmas Lights”

The Child of Light

If the scriptures had said: “Today, light is born,”
man’s heart would not have leapt.
The idea would not have become a legend
and would not have conquered the world.
They would merely have described a normal physical phenomenon
and would not have fired our imagination-
I mean our soul.
But the light which is born in the dead of winter
has become a child
and the child has become God,
and for twenty centuries our soul has suckled it …
(Nikos Kazantzakis)

Grumpy old men

I must confess that for the last decade or so I’ve been rather “Bah! Humbug!” about Christmas lights.

Not the Christmas lights that you wrap around the tree that you’ve sawn down, dragged into the living room and jammed into a bucketful of stones.

Those lights are safe, as it were (if they’re not then you should have them checked out by a qualified electrician … as I keep reminding my Mum!)

No, what I mean is, I didn’t mind those lights. You could have them.

What I objected to mostly was the big – in inverted-commas – “American-style” lights: the lights that ordinarily, sane members of the public would drape liberally over their bungalow or detached villa, and so in one fell swoop, and enormous spike on the National Grid, transform their house from Dun Romin into something akin to Las Vegas.

Vs

The thing is, I really didn’t understand myself why I was so against them. Other than the obvious reason that I was just getting older and grumpier!

I suspect too that I dressed it up in some kind of pseudo-theological argument: that it detracts from the real meaning of Christmas, that it was too “commercial”.

All change!

However, you’ll be pleased to learn that I’m no longer the angry old man of 24 months ago. Something changed in me when I moved back to St Andrews.

When I moved back to Fife, presumably the planets realigned, I became a calmer and happier human being, and trivial matters such as Christmas lights and the subsequent effect that has on climate change just seemed to melt into insignificance.

Realisation

When I started to unpack this, what I realised is that for the last 12 years I’ve been living in cities (London, Edinburgh and Inverness).

I’ve been living in an environment where the night sky is always orange. There is no proper darkness. There is no real distinction between light and dark. It is always light.

And so these Christmas lights, whether they are hanging from Mr & Mrs Naughtie’s roof or slung across the street outside Marks & Spencer’s, they are just one more set of lights amongst many. In a sense, they’d lost their impact on me, lost their meaning, lost their significance.

Dark night of the soul

When the clocks went back this year I really struggled adjusting to the darkness. Because it really was dark driving back to Anstruther from St Andrews every evening, through the blackness.

It felt cold, and lonely, and dark, and hopeless, and I had no energy. It took me a good two months to even begin to get used to these early, dark evenings.

But then something incredible happened … at the end of our street.

Just as the nights were getting longer, the sun was disappearing over the horizon earlier and earlier, people started to decorate their houses with lights. And it really did lift my spirits.

Because there in the darkness was light. There in the darkness were signs of life, and hope and celebration.

And it suddenly made sense, in a way that simply reading about it in books didn’t, or thinking about the theological imagery on warm summer evenings at theological college.

It suddenly made sense – like an epiphany, but before Advent! – it made sense why this time of year was chosen to celebrate the birth of Jesus: around midwinter, the time of the winter solstice, when the day is short, and the night long. In the midst of this darkness comes light. Signs of life, and hope and celebration.

The Light of Christ

The prophet Isaiah wrote,

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9: 2 & 6, NRSV)

St John wrote in the opening to his account of the Gospel:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. (NRSV)

Everything was created through him; nothing – not one thing! – came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out. (The Message)

“What came into existence [in Jesus] was Life, and the Life was Light to live by.” Jesus has come to be the light of all people, God living amongst us to show us how to live, how to really live, to live our lives to their full potential. “… The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

The starlit darkness

When you hear the word “darkness” what does it conjure up in your mind?
What images do you recall?
What places do you remember?
What feelings does it evoke in you?

Are there any areas of your life that feel are in darkness just now, that you wish could experience the light of Christ, bringing hope and new life?

Just for a moment:
Imagine you are in a house in the country;
all the lights are on, artificial light, electric light.
It’s time to leave;
You collect your coat and say your farewells and step outside.

It’s not like the city – there are no streetlights.
As you step into the darkness everything goes pitch black.
You are dizzy with darkness,
You can’t focus on anything.
You walk hesitantly down the path, feel for the gate and get through it.

Now you stand and wait and look around.

Gradually what seemed pitch black becomes less so.
Slowly, your eyes adjust — now you can make out the shapes of trees and houses, and hills on the horizon.
You feel the ground beneath your feet, solid and firm.
You look up.
Above you is the vast expanse of the heavens.
What at first seemed to be only darkness you now see is starlit and incredibly beautiful.
Galaxies, stars, planets, a crescent moon … this is the starlit darkness.
The breathtaking darkness of God.
The mystery of God.
God is a starlit darkness — breath-taking …
God is a starlit darkness.
(Alternative Worship, Jonny Baker et al)

I want to end with this short prayer from the 17th century saint St Dimitrii of Rostov:
Let us pray:

The Kindling

Come, my Light, and illumine my darkness.
Come, my Life, and revive me from death.
Come, my Physician, and heal my wounds.
Come, Flame of divine love, and burn up the thorns of my sins,
Kindling my heart with the flame of [your] love.
Come, my King, sit upon the throne of my heart and reign there.
For [you] alone [are] my King and my Lord.
Amen.

Preached at St Salvator’s Chapel, University of St Andrews on Tuesday, 18 December, 2007. Bible passages were: Isaiah 9: 2, 6-7; Luke 1: 26-38; Luke 2:1-7 and Luke 2: 8-20.

This evening I’m preaching at the Alumni Carol Service at St Salvator’s Chapel, University of St Andrews, starting at 18:30. So my clerical shirt and vestments are currently hanging up in the office.

I would have hung them all behind the door but unfortunately I’m too tall for the coat hook and my cassock was dragging on the floor. That’s what white boards are for, though, I guess.

This will be my second carol service this year. I conducted (most of) the carol service at St Mary’s, Newport-on-Tay on Sunday evening. I say “most of” because I had it in my diary as starting at 18:30, while the rest of the congregation had 18.00 in theirs. I missed only two carols and a couple of readings.

When I got home I checked my emails to see what time they’d given me. It turns out that was the problem: they hadn’t given me a time, just said “early evening” and I’d guessed 18:30 based on previous experience of early evening services.

This evening’s service is definitely starting at 18:30. Besides, it’s just across the quad from my office. Literally a hop, skip and a genuflect away.

Prayers please that my sermon goes well and that God speaks through me (but not in a weird, Hollywood style!).

Update: Oh for goodness sake! It turns out that the carol service begins at 19:00, not 18:30!! I was told 18:30 … can no one tell me the correct time that I’m supposed to turn up to these things?!

Current version: 1.0
Released Sunday 02 December 2007

Now updated for 2007-2008

Today is the First Sunday of Advent, which is the beginning of a new Church year.

So in preparation for this week I’ve been busy creating my annual CSV file that allows folks to import the dates for Saints’ days and Festivals of the Scottish Episcopal Church into Microsoft Outlook.

Versions

This year I’ve gone two steps further and created three files, instead of my usual (Standard) file:

1. Standard
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, but details of no readings (my usual file).
2. Sunday readings
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, and readings for only Sundays and Major Festivals.
3. Complete
   Contains details of all saints’ days and festivals, and readings for all Sunday, Festival and Daily Eucharists, and Daily Prayer readings.

Readings

In the “Complete” version, the readings for ordinary saints days and lesser festivals are simply those for that day of the week in relation to the previous Sunday rather than specifically for that minor saint/festival. For example, the readings given for Ambrose of Milan (Friday 07 December) are those for the Friday of Advent 1.

In other words, I’ve used only readings from The Lectionary and the Readings for Festivals, and not those from elsewhere or from the Readings for Special Occasions or Common Readings for Saints Days.

Download

Download your file of choice on the Saints and Festivals of the SEC in Microsoft Outlook page.

Report all errors

As always, if you spot an error please let me know so that I can fix the source file for other users. Thank you.