Archbishop-elect Provence

I've been told that Bishop Provence was elected to be the next Archbishop of the APCK.

An APCK Diocese Afoot?

It's been a very long time since I've published anything here. I'd already planned to write a few things today if I could afford the time, but after reading an email last night I decided to write first and tend the day's chores later. What was in this email that so convicted me?

According to an article by David Virtue, Bishop Florenza of the APCK's Diocese of the Eastern States has declared his Diocese to be in "a state of genuine unity and full communion" with the ACA.

I'd like to know what "a state of genuine unity and full communion" means. How does "genuine unity" differ from organic unity? If it does not (and that would be my understanding of the plain English), "full communion" is implicit. If they are the same, has Bishop Florenza already effectively declared his Diocese's move to the ACA? Can a Diocese exist in two jurisdictions?

I realize these are questions for Bishop Florenza, but I cannot help but think aloud. The sordid history of continuing Anglicanism and its continued disunity are shameful. I hope and pray this latest event is different, but if this is indeed a "unilateral" action as some have suggested, I fear it will only worsen "the brokenness of our witness for Christ as traditional Anglicans" that Bishop Florenza reportedly criticizes.

As I mentioned in a comment on the Continuum, I'm all for decreasing the number of petty kingdoms that exist in continuing Anglicanism. But I don't see how this action will change that number unless it results in the APCK in its entirety moving toward organic unity with the ACA. And, if the APCK were willing to make such a move, would the ACA be the best destination? I think the ACC or the UECNA, both having a much clearer tie to St. Louis and Denver, would be better destinations for such a move.

June 29th was a big day already, but it'll be even more interesting to learn what happens in Oakland now.

A week of Interviews

I think I've had an interview every day this week so far. They've all been informal interviews with other groups at Microsoft. I'm trying to find my long-term gig there; I hope to find something that'll let me be as active at the parish as I'd like. I have a second interview on Friday for a gig I would really enjoy.

I also have an interview with Bishop Provence (about my aspiration to the diaconate) Saturday. I'm really looking forward to meeting and talking with the Bishop.

I should mention that I learned last week I won't be going to synod this year to be interviewed by the Standing Committee. Aspirants are required to have been members of a parish for one year before consideration for postulancy (which is quite reasonable). As I'm being received into the Anglican Province of Christ the King and into the parish this weekend, I'll have to wait until next year's synod.

Some folks have asked me if this delay disappoints me. My answer is, not at all. If I'm not willing to do things on God's time-table, I shouldn't have this aspiration to start with. Anyway, I knew that changing jurisdictions would cause another delay. God knows, and does, what's best.

The Sarum Missal, Online

After doing some (unfortunately) brief research in the Sarum Missal, I thought it would be nice to share some links to online editions of the missal for those few folks who read this 'blog. Here they are:

• The Ancient Liturgy of the Church of England, Maskell



• The Liturgy of the Church of Sarum, Walker



• Ordinary and Canon of the Mass, According to the Use of the Church of Sarum, Dodd



• The Ordinary of the Mass (Latin)



• The Canon of the Mass (Latin)



• The Sarum Missal in English

First Sunday after Easter

This morning's celebration of Holy Communion began with my favorite hymn: number 87 ("Welcome, happy morning!"). It was sung often at the parish of my youth and it's still a joy to sing. I love its melody, its energy, and that it's full of doctrinal goodness. There were many voices behind me (I sat in the front pew) and J. played it perfectly; it was a real treat.

Twenty minutes earlier, I wouldn't have bet that there would be so many voices. As we drove into the parking lot, we saw only a few cars; I mentioned to Deirdre that today is also called Low Sunday, and that the turnout might match that name. I guess folks just arrived a bit later than usual, because by the time Fr. McGrath and the acolytes processed into the sanctuary, the nave was nicely full.

(Incidentally, I was taught that few scholars actually believe the "Low" of "Low Sunday" has anything to with attendance, but that it's more likely derived from the old sequentia of the day, which started with "laudes". Wikipedia mentions this as well.)

We sang two other powerful Easter hymns today also: number 99 ("O sons and daughters, let us sing!") and number 89 ("At the Lamb's high feast we sing"). Good stuff.

After Holy Communion and an hour or so of socializing downstairs, the ACW met. As when they last met, I was left to watch some of the younger children, including Prudence, Newton, L. and D. They were well-behaved and I enjoyed my time with them.

A parting conversation with Fr. McGrath reminded me that the synod is fast approaching. I'm due to be interviewed by the diocese's Standing Committee there as an aspirant to the diaconate. I don't know what preparation is required or expected, but whatever it is I need to get busy. Please pray that I discern and obey our Lord's will in this matter.

Lastly, I wrote back on Tuesday that I'd describe an interesting liturgical scenario that arose on Easter Monday. Last week was the end of a really tough, month-long push at work to wrap up a project, and I just haven't had much time or energy to sit down and write. I'll make the time and muster the energy tomorrow (I have to do so for the taxes, anyway).

Easter Tuesday

I missed Matins and Ante-Communion again today because I overslept. Domine mei miserere. And, sadly, I won't be able to attend Matins until Friday because I have an early meeting tomorrow and Thursday.

It was just me and Fr. McGrath again tonight at Evensong. G. was hosting an out-of-town visitor but Fr. McGrath expects he'll again be attending the evening service soon. It's so great that G. so regularly attends the Daily Office; Fr. McGrath deserves the company (and I just haven't been very consistent about attending).

Tonight's Evensong was remarkably short; in fact, Fr. McGrath remarked that it lasted only fifteen minutes (and that included singing the Phos Hilaron again, which I actually managed to sing worse than last night). The lessons were pretty short (the first, from Isaiah, particularly so) and we didn't waste words moving along the service (no "turn to page so-and-so" and "let us say this-and-that"). There wasn't a need with just us two.

An interesting liturgical question came up last and this night, but my battery is about to run out so I need to click "Publish" right now. I'll write about it tomorrow.

Easter Monday

I think today was the first time I've ever been to a service on Easter Monday. I don't even know what the importance of today is. A cursory search of the web didn't help much; I learned of numerous activities and traditions (my favorite was how, according to a Canadian site, men would mist their wives with perfumed water blessed on Easter Day and say, "May you never wither"), but I didn't really find anything of theological or doctrinal significance. As best I can tell, Easter Monday (a government holiday in many countries) became increasingly important as the start of the week-long festivities celebrating of our Lord's resurrection, particularly in European nations.

I didn't wake up in time for Matins (which is a shame, because Fr. McGrath sent an email last week saying there would be Ante-Communion), but I did get away from work in time for Evensong. I even found a new bus route to take from the Microsoft main campus: MT 232. I can leave the office at 4: 45 PM and still make the start of Evensong, which is great. I wish it ran that direction in the morning.

It was just the two of us tonight (it's odd not to see G. there; he's become like a fixture!). We sang the Phos Hilaron at the end, which was good (in that I love it and need the practice) and bad (in that I really struggled with it). Fr. McGrath was kind to ferry me back to work.

I came home to spaghetti with a tomato sauce, my favorite food! Thanks Deirdre, my love!

A Counterblaste to Tobacco

Should I ever doubt that we've long known tobacco was bad, I'll simply return to this book written by King James I in 1604, A Counterblaste to Tobacco.

The text exemplifies Jacobean writing so well, wherein King James describes smoking tobacco as a "custome lothsome to the eye, hatefull to the Nose, harmefull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, neerest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomelesse."

Good stuff.

Easter Day

I know that my redeemer liveth

What a glorious Pascha!

We started the day by waking at four o'clock so that we would arrive at the parish in time for the six o'clock "sunrise" celebration of Holy Communion. It was odd driving to Woodinville from Kent at that early hour. There were almost no other cars on the road, so we made the trek in remarkable time. The kids slept in the car (and in fact slept through all of Holy Communion).

Shortly after arriving, Bill and I "suited up" to serve at the Lord's Table. Bill served as crucifer and Epistler, and I as thurifer and lector (Fr. McGrath combined Matins and Holy Communion, as he often does for feasts). I read from Exodus xii, wherein Moses and Aaron instruct the Israelites regarding the Passover. It's good stuff, and although I wasn't prepared to read it (I had prepared instead to read the Eptistle), that portion of Holy Scripture is familiar enough to me that I limped by.

This morning was only the second time I've served as thurifer (the first being only a few days ago on Maundy Thursday), and I did about as well as you might expect. I love incense in spite of my "low church" rearing, so I look forward to growing comfortable with the thurible. Fortunately, I have some fairly detailed notes for thurifers from my days at the Scott School. I'll have to find them.

Unfortunately, there were very few people present to see my missteps. In fact, there were only three people in the nave (and one was Deirdre). Normally, when there are as many people in the sanctuary as in the nave, I'd say there's a problem. But, at a sunrise service, I guess it's to be expected.

(Fr. McGrath told me at dinner that there were 80 people at the later celebration of Holy Communion, more than twenty of which were children. Praise God! I wish I'd been able to stay to see and hear the happy throng.)

After a beautiful and moving celebration of Holy Communion, during which Kathy played the harp and Fr. McGrath delivered a great sermon on what it means to be Resurrected, we gathered downstairs for breakfast. Fr. McGrath's wife and kids arrived just in time, which made Prudence very happy (once she finally awoke). We brought croissants (three dozen!) and others brought meat, cheese, boiled eggs, cream cheese, orange marmalade, yogurt, and juice. It was a wonderful time of fellowship, a meal shared with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I wish we could come to together to share a table in community like that every day.

We departed the parish for home after breakfast so that we could clean the house and prepare food in advance of the McGraths' and Deirdre's mother's arrival, who were visiting us for dinner later in the early afternoon. I prepared braised lamb chops, mashed potatoes, maple glazed carrots, roasted Brussels sprouts, and a whole wheat loaf. Deirdre contributed an apple pie. It was good, if by no other indication than the lack of leftovers afterwards. After dinner, Fr. McGrath and I spoke a bit about my aspiration to the diaconate, a bit about the parish, and a bit about ecclesia et via Anglicana. It was yet another magnificent time of fellowship spent with beloved friends and our family in Christ.

We then met the McGraths one last time, barely an hour after they left our house, at the parish for Evensong. Only our two families were present, but Fr. McGrath's wife played the organ anyway, and I'm glad she did. It was a wonderful way to finish the day.

I have hours of work I could (and probably should) do before tomorrow morning, but I'm not going to. This day has been as close to perfect as any in a very long time. We celebrated our risen Lord's triumph over death, we twice shared a table in fellowship with our Christian brethren, I had a great talk with a new friend, and I enjoyed more time with my wife and children than I've been able to in weeks.

O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is gracious

Easter Even

Today was a relaxed day compared to the previous six of Holy Week. I only travelled to church once, and I only worked for a couple of hours. In fact, today was too relaxed; I waited too long to leave for church this evening and, consequently, arrived a few minutes late for Evensong.

I think Fr. McGrath and Bill were ready to go on without me, but I vested anyway. Bill read the service and I read the lessons. Like all of the lessons during Holy Week, they were outstanding.

The first lesson was from Job xix, at the end of which Job expresses his faith in the bodily resurrection and of being in the physical presence of his Lord at the end of the world.

"For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." Job xix. 24-25.

The second lesson, from Romans vi, was St. Paul's wonderful explication of what it means to be baptized into our Lord, how it means we are also "baptized into his death" so that we are "freed from sin." The lesson builds to St. Paul's powerful, if not difficult, challenge:

"For in that he died, he died unto sin once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God. Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Romans vi. 10-11.

Sounds easy, until you really ponder its meaning. The first half of the next verse, I think, would have been a nice addition, and would have driven home the implication: "Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body."

After the conclusion of Evensong, I put the cassock and surplice up and returned to the pews for the remainder of the service: the Lighting of the New Fire, Ante-Communion, and renewal of our Baptismal vows. We actually gathered in the narthex, where I noticed that Fr. McGrath had change into his alb and cope, and Bill into his alb. (The change from cassock and surplice to alb seemed very appropriate, and brought to my mind the catechumens of old, dressed all in white on Holy Saturday, fasting and being exorcised, awaiting Baptism at at the break of dawn).

I've never actually attended an enkindling of the paschal candle; the church of my youth was quite "low." It was disucssed and demonstrated briefly at the Scott School, but only briefly. I must say that it was a new and wonderful experience. I particularly relished Fr. McGrath's singing of the Exultet. I just closed my eyes and drifted off, carried by the tune and the mighty words.

Another highlight of the evening was singing the Phos Hilaron. I say signing, but for me it was really more like baying. I sing poorly in general, but I especially struggle with the Phos Hilaron. It's sad, especially, because I enjoy it so much.

After Ante-Communion, we corporately renewed our Baptismal vows. I'm not sure where Fr. McGrath obtained this short liturgy (or whether he himself composed it), but it was basically the Apostles' Creed as challenges and responses. It was very nice, and was another liturgical "extra" I've not previously experienced.

As I left the parish, I heard the beautiful sounds of Kathy's harp and Fr. McGrath's tenor preparing for the morning Mass.

Alas! I just realized that I forgot to take my St. Augustine's prayer book with me tonight to read the Stations of the Cross. Ah well, it'll be a devotion for next Friday, I suppose.