Waves
It was back in April that I became an overseas member of the Prayer Book Society. I had considered becoming a member of the Prayer Book Society of Canada. Canada was cheaper, and I am Canadian. But England was the source of the Book of Common Prayer and seemed more safe.
Safe? Well, I like the old services. They are predictable. No danger of crazies. The Anglican Church where I live is great, love it, but I feel restless there. I have stopped driving to in-person communion services, and withdrawn from Zoom morning prayer services.
So I do doubt my faith on one hand. That the superficiality of the frosting on the cake is what I want. Not the cake itself. The cake itself is day to day life for me. Living from one day to the next. Surviving. Doing my best and so on.
The icing though is what I need to get through the days of bland cake. I love the intricate harmonies of anthems, the exquisite beauty of a well-played pipe organ, the blunt sincerity of the words of the older liturgies, the grand spaciousness of the huge churches. Even through videos I feel so transported, so calmed, so inspired. Safe too.
I can manage through the day with a verse of music running through my head, a crutch, a narcotic perhaps? Rather a lifeline to God, I think. Anyway, so it be. And, so be it, too.
At night I still read from St. John of the Cross, though I am nearly finished and his writing has become very difficult because he writes now about the unobtainable. The unobtainable for me. A life without attachments.
Today a bit of Faure’s Requiem Offertoire runs through my head. I could push it aside and struggle all day not to hear it. But instead I recall it when I am washing dishes, typing on the computer, out walking on the icy roads.
“O Domine, Jesu Christo Rex Domine”
The Offertoire is a prayer to Christ for the souls of the dead. I have become very attached to hearing it in my mind, in spite of St. John’s admonitions. I just can’t let it go. Too beautiful.
