God of the living word, give us the faith to receive your message, the wisdom to know what it means, and the courage to put it into practice. Amen.
Living Lord, call us together, call us to eat and drink with you. Grant that by your body and your blood we may be drawn to each other and to you. Amen.
So, why are we all here? What motivated us to depart from our homes and come to church, here, this morning? Surely, there are other things we could be doing on a Sunday--like watching political candidates being interviewed--just one more time.
As the worship service begins, we might sense that the liturgy, music and hangings are different. Even the priestly vestments are changed.
We might feel as the woman from Sychar as she goes about her usual day, expecting a routine walk to the local water well for fresh water. She discovers something new. A strange fellow is sitting there. She has never met him before. And the stranger, who does not even have a bucket, has the audacity to ask her for water.
We awake on Sunday mornings and move into the ritual of coming to church – hoping to be fed, nourished, and perhaps enlightened--and the church worship service surprises us.
“Give me a drink,” Jesus says to the woman.
The beginning of the worship service calls us to kneel – to confess our sins, to ask God for mercy. There are musical phrases sung by the choir—while we listen and meditate. This is all so strange.
Today is the third Sunday in Lent. Having heard from several voices and points of view in recent days --concerns about the “changes” in the worship services in recent weeks—I welcome the opportunity to offer some perspective and context for the changes in worship during this 40 day season of Lent. Using the Gospel image, we might say there is a stranger at the well.
The Gospel lessons of the past two weeks suggest a helpful starting place. Last week, a smart, self-assured Nicodemus had a quite difficult time understanding the message and direction coming from Jesus. The same confusion is true in today’s Gospel as an ordinary woman meets an extraordinary presence at the well.
“Born again” and “living waters” are entirely new images for Nicodemus and for the woman from Samaria. Mystery is a key aspect in both encounters—the nature of God is shrouded, tantalizing beyond our reach, we feel. Yet an understanding of that mystery is not out of reach if I open my heart, recall the challenges of Nicodemus and the woman at the well and imagine that the nature of God just might be right here in this place—at this time.
“Give me a drink,” Jesus says.
We could say there are two very good reasons for coming to any worship service (and not watching television pundits on Sunday morning) – two very good reasons to participate regularly in weekly liturgy. Surely I need support, nourishment and even consolation as I cope with personal challenges and the demands of an increasingly senseless world. And I am always seeking better guidance and more strength on the path of Christian ministry—ministry in my own family, neighborhood and employment as well as in the worlds beyond my immediate reach and understanding. I know that volunteering at the soup kitchen and at Loaves and Fishes or donating to disaster relief are heralded ministries. I also want to carry a quiet, daily ministry of God’s spirit into my personal role of spouse, parent, grandparent, caregiver, attorney or accountant, school teacher or administrator, businessperson, doctor or contractor.
After the first Sunday in Lent when we hear the story of Jesus going into a dark wilderness facing temptation, we return on the second and third Sunday and are immediately asked to kneel and recite the Ten Commandments, the foundational covenant between God and God’s people. Knowing how difficult it is to be compliant to God’s law, to be as Jesus, to be as God expects, we say together the ancient words of mercy – Lord have mercy upon us; Christ have mercy upon us; Lord have mercy upon us.
We then confess our sins, corporately and personally – we say we have not been obedient to the law and to the covenant. As a priestly agent of the Church, speaking for the body of Christ, the Church, I then stand and offer the words of absolution.
This beginning of our worship is quite different from other church seasons when we offer our confession later in the service as we corporately offer the Prayers of all God’s People.
We acknowledge this Lent by falling on our knees (if able…understandably, some knees are not as able as others), and we are reminded of the God’s law and covenant with us. We confess our sins.
Another change is found specifically in the 10:30 service. There is a “Gradual” after the Epistle, a “Tract” before the Gospel reading, an “Offertory Psalm” at the time of the offering, and a “Communion Psalm” sung as we celebrate the Eucharist.
These rituals are grounded in ancient liturgy, the worship services composed and developed in the 9th and 10th Centuries when monks chanted most of the liturgy. During special worship services of certain seasons, the “Propers” or psalms would be sung.
Instead of one long psalm, we have little fragments of psalms sung only by the choir at key points of the service.
Congregational reaction to music in our church services can be heart-felt and diverse. Some people might feel particularly engaged with a hymn and find it quite beautiful and moving, while others might be uncomfortable or even bored or put off by the difficulty of the piece.
Whatever the music, we are asked to participate – with open ears and heart, though my response may be different from yours. An organ voluntary is played, and we listen actively, knowing that, while I am not called upon to join in song at this point, I am part of the corporate body in quiet reflection.
Church or sacred music usually takes a scripture text and lifts it up for our understanding and benefit. The Propers, the fragments of psalms sung by the choir, lift up for us the glorious poetry of the Bible and make connections to the theme of the morning.
“Arise thou, O Lord, while mine enemies are driven back: they shall fall and perish at thy presence,” a Gradual sung after the Epistle.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hill; from whence cometh my help?” the Tract, preparing us for the Gospel.
“The statues of the Lord are right, and rejoice the heart.” The Offertory Psalm.
“Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will be always praising thee.” The Communion Psalm.
These “Propers” are used in worship during this one church season of Lent, serving as a bridge to the timeless mystery of God and God’s presence on our earthly pilgrimage.
“The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life,” Jesus says to the Samaritan woman. Her ears are open. Her heart is alive.
We come to Sunday worship services from all variety of mind and spirit: we are troubled, we are grateful, we are sorrowful, we are hopeful. Spiritually hungry and thirsty, perhaps spent from the past week, we may not have easily walked through these red doors, but we welcome a new day, greeting one another and praising God, pausing to “make offerings and come into His court.”
And then we leave Holy Comforter. Thanks given to God, we are sent out into the world to do ministry, empowered through the love of Christ and one another, nourished to live out and spread the Word.
The season is Lent. We know Holy Week, Palm Sunday and the Cross are not far off. We think of those things in our hearts and yearn for the sunrise and joy of Easter.
“Arise, Lord!”
The Samaritan woman speaks for us. “Give us this water, so that we may never be thirsty.”
“The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.”
Amen.
The Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter, a parish of The Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina
Copyright ©2007 The Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter. All rights reserved.