6 June, Reflections on the Mass II:‘Those Who Sing, Pray Twice’

This is the second of Canon Anthony Charlton’s reflections on the Eucharist. These pilgrims are singing and playing their instruments as they gather at the Abbey of St Maurice in Switzerland for the annual Pilgrimage for the Martyrs of Africa. St Maurice and his Companions were Egyptian Roman soldiers, martyred in what is now St Maurice, but the pilgrimage is timetabled to be near the feast of the Uganda Martyrs, 3rd June.

So here we are, the gathered people of God, and we have responded to the invitation of Jesus to come and celebrate. Jesus has invited us.

Note that the first instruction in the Roman Missal says that the Entrance chant begins as the priest enters with the servers. I know there are some who prefer a ‘quiet Mass’, because they are not keen on singing. The purpose of this chant is to open the celebration, foster unity of all who are gathered, introduce their thoughts to the liturgical season and accompany the procession. The entrance Antiphon can be sung by a choir; or often a hymn is sung, based on a psalm. If there is no singing, the congregation is encouraged to recite the antiphon together.

It is important that singing should be an essential part of each celebration. We use what talent we have to praise and give thanks to God. Singing creates unity, brings about unity. St Augustine said: ‘Those who sing, pray twice.’ The first prayer is the words we use. The second prayer is the extra we add to those words when we express them in song.

When the priest reaches the altar, as a sign of reverence he kisses it. The Altar, says the General instruction of the Roman missal, ‘should occupy a place where it is truly the centre toward which the attention of the whole congregation of the faithful naturally turns.’ These rules are repeated in the Order of Dedication of a Church and an Altar; this ensures that newly-dedicated altars are freestanding, so that the priest may face the congregation (IV:8). The altar is known as the altar of the sacrifice of the cross and the table of thanksgiving. In our church we have retained the old High Altar, because of its artistic merit.

As the priest goes to the chair we have the Penitential Rite, which needs to be simple and brief. It is time to acknowledge our sinfulness. During the pause, one writer suggests that ‘we reflect in silence on our human condition and implore the divine mercy.’ This is different from celebrating the sacrament of Reconciliation. The purpose of the Penitential Rite is to acknowledge our sins in order to enter the celebration with a humble spirit.

The blessing and sprinkling of water may replace the Penitential Act as a reminder of Baptism, and this is especially recommended for the Easter Season.

We then say, or sing, a song of praise that has been sung for over 1500 years: the Gloria. And after this ancient song of praise, the priest introduces the opening prayer, knows as The Collect. All of us, together with the priest, observe a brief silence so that we may be conscious of the fact that we are in God’s presence. The prayer expresses the character of the celebration. The text of the prayer is usually in four parts: an address to God by some title, an acknowledgement of God’s mighty deeds, a petition and a concluding formula.

In this third week of Easter, we pray:

“May your people exult for ever, O God, in renewed youthfulness of spirit, so that, rejoicing now in the restored glory of our adoption, we may look forward in confident hope to the rejoicing of the day of resurrection. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever.”

Canon Father AnthonyParish Priest

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5 June: Reflections on the Mass, I, Christ Truly Present

Canon Anthony Charlton recently wrote six reflections on the Mass which he published on the website of Saint Thomas’ Church, Canterbury. we are glad to take up his invitation to share them with you a little later than the Easter season he prepared them for. They are also relevant to the days leading to Corpus Christi.

Thank you, Father Anthony!

A new word came my way when I became deputy director of the Christian Education Centre in the late 1980’s. The word was ‘mystagogia’. It comes from the Greek word meaning ‘to lead through the mysteries’.

The Catechism describes mystagogy as a ‘liturgical catechesis that aims to initiate people into the mystery of Christ’ (CCC 1075). It is the time after Easter Sunday when those who have been baptised as adults reflect and review the mysteries they have experienced when they were baptised, confirmed and receive the Eucharist for the first time.

It can also be an opportunity for all of us to deepen our understanding of what it means for us to be baptised, to celebrate the Eucharist and to receive the fullness of the Holy Spirit in Confirmation. This time between Easter and Pentecost is of great significance for all of us.

So this is an ideal time to reflect on one of the three sacraments, the Eucharist, which is ‘the source and summit of our Christian life’. I want therefore to reflect on the actions of parts of the Mass. The Jesuit, Gerald O’Mahoney, wrote a small book some years ago entitled: ‘The Mass from Start to Finish’. This is what I want to do in the next six weeks of the Easter season: to go from start to finish.

It begins even before we sing a single note or say a word. Our Mass begins with the Gathering of the people. The first liturgical act is when we assemble as Church. By coming together on a Saturday night or a Sunday at St Thomas, we are affirming our true identity as sons and daughters of God. We are not just being present at Mass, we are celebrating Mass. Celebrating is the action of the whole assembly. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal says:

‘In the celebration of Mass the faithful form a holy people, a people of God’s own possession and a royal priesthood, so that they give thanks to God and offer the unblemished sacrificial victim not only by means of the hands of the priest but also together with him and so they may learn to offer their very selves.’ (no: 95).

This is what we are doing; offering ‘the unblemished sacrificial victim’ with the priest — and we are offering ourselves to God. As you prepare your family or yourself to come to Mass, your celebration has already begun. The orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann says that ‘the Eucharist is not one of the sacraments or one of the services, but the very manifestation and fulfilment of the Church in all her power, sanctity and fullness’. Christ is really and truly present with a congregation of a few souls, or a congregation of hundreds of people. Every gathering is a manifestation of the Church and embodies the presence of Christ.

I like this sentence written by Jim McManus:

‘As we enter the sacred assembly the first person there to meet us is Jesus. When we start to assemble, we are not just waiting for the priest to come out and begin Mass. We are already gathered as the Church, with Christ in our midst. We are the Church because Jesus Christ is in our midst, uniting us as one body, his body.’

So when you next come to Mass, think about how you are actively present as a member of the Body of Christ, right from the time you enter the Church building, and prepare yourself accordingly for the gathering.

Door of Mercy, Zakopane, Poland,

Pentecost: This Gift of Love

Canterbury cathedral’s collected Paschal Candles: this year’s special Easter candles will be lit in churches today, the Church’s Birthday.

Reflections from Fr Anthony Charlton of St Thomas’, Canterbury.

In my previous parishes, on this feast of Pentecost the children released helium-filled red balloons, at the end of Mass, to celebrate the great feast. The feast is sometimes referred to as the birthday of the church, hence the balloons. Pentecost ushers in the age of the Church. Now Jesus lives and acts in, and with, the Church.

We are not merely remembering a past event, when those in the Upper Room were transformed and changed. For us, the Holy Spirit is not just a help for the mission of the church. He is salvation; he is life itself. We celebrate today that we are all filled with that Spirit — just as Mary, the women and the apostles were transformed.

Today we celebrate the gift that is given to all of us, this gift of love. We are all immersed in the ‘ocean of the Father’s love’, Cardinal Ranerio Cantalamassa wrote. ‘They discovered for the first time what the love of the Father was, this love that Jesus spoke to them about for so long and in vain. They discovered the tenderness that is in the name Abba which they had heard their Master share about many times.’

A great Pentecost hymn is Come down O Love divine, seek thou this soul of mine.

Because of the gift of speech, all were able to understand the apostles. It was the reversal of Babel. At the building of the tower of Babel, the people said, ‘Let us make a name for ourselves.’ Their focus was on themselves and not on God. At Pentecost, instead everyone understood each other, because they had forgotten about themselves. There was unity, harmony and communication. The apostles did not want to make a name for themselves, but for God. They were no longer discussing among themselves who was the greatest.

We need in our prayer to put the accent on praise. We no longer want to live for ourselves but for the Lord. ‘Praise is what best helps us to decentralise and to recentralise on God.’ We need to rediscover this living Christ, whom only the Spirit can stir up in us. Let us rediscover this personal experience of Jesus — who died and was raised for me.

We need to have the same burning experience that Paul had on the road to Damascus, when he asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ (Acts 9:5). From that moment on, Paul considered everything as worthless, so that he might gain Christ.

At this time some of the people of the parish are joining with others, throughout the Diocese, participating in the Life in the Spirit seminars. It is a seven-week course of renewal, and yesterday they went to St George’s Cathedral, for a day when they asked for a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, sometimes referred to as ‘Baptism in the Holy Spirit’.

Let us all pray on this Pentecost Sunday:

Lord Jesus I open my heart to the Holy Spirit so that I may rediscover and proclaim you as Lord.

15 May: Mary Magdalene and the other Mary

A SONG FOR ALL MARIES

Our Master lies asleep and is at rest;
His Heart has ceased to bleed, His Eye to weep.
The sun ashamed has dropt down in the west;
Our Master lies asleep.

Now we are they who weep, and trembling keep
Vigil, with wrung heart in a sighing breast,
While slow time creeps, and slow the shadows creep.

Renew Thy youth, as eagle from the nest;
O Master, who hast sown, arise to reap:
No cock-crow yet, no flush on eastern crest;
Our Master lies asleep.

Christina Rossetti is an Easter person, as is Mary Magdalene and the Other Mary, Jesus’ mother. Together keeping vigil, the cock-crow they await brings not betrayal but renewal and rising.

14 May: Before the paling of the stars.

‘BEFORE THE PALING OF THE STARS’

Before the paling of the stars,
  Before the winter morn,
Before the earliest cockcrow
  Jesus Christ was born:
Born in a stable,
  Cradled in a manger,
In the world His hands had made
  Born a stranger.

Priest and king lay fast asleep
  In Jerusalem,
Young and old lay fast asleep
  In crowded Bethlehem:
Saint and Angel, ox and ass,
  Kept a watch together,
Before the Christmas daybreak
  In the winter weather.

Jesus on His Mother’s breast
  In the stable cold,
Spotless Lamb of God was He,
  Shepherd of the fold:
Let us kneel with Mary maid,
  With Joseph bent and hoary,
With Saint and Angel, ox and ass,
  To hail the King of Glory.

Mary cannot have known what the cockcrow would represent thirty years on from this morning. . . A few hours of half-sleeping, and now it is time to face the rest of her life. Before long she will be tossed about emotionally, Jesus’ glory hidden, Joseph urging all haste down to Egypt. The poem is by Christina Rossetti.

Photograph by Constantina.

13 May: Mary, whom his lips caress

Mary Mother from Hales Place Jesuit Chapel, Canterbury

A Carol by Christina Rossetti

Lo! newborn Jesus,
Soft and weak and small,
Wrapped in baby’s bands
By His Mother’s hands,
Lord God of all.

Lord God of Mary,
Whom His Lips caress
While He rocks to rest
On her milky breast
In helplessness.

Lord God of shepherds
Flocking through the cold,
Flocking through the dark
To the only Ark,
The only Fold.

Lord God of all things,
Be they near or far,
Be they high or low;
Lord of storm and snow,
Angel and star.

Lord God of all men,–
My Lord and my God!
Thou who lovest me,
Keep me close to Thee
By staff and rod.

Lo! newborn Jesus,
Loving great and small,
Love’s free Sacrifice,
Opening Arms and Eyes
To one and all.

It’s May but we have not celebrated Mary yet, except in the company of her husband, Joseph. We have also been neglecting poetry, so let’s turn to Christina Rossetti. Childless herself, she captures the sensuous intimacy of the helpless baby, caressing his mother with his kisses. As a baby he opens his eyes and hands to the one he can see clearly; As Saviour he will look with love on each of us; as Good Shepherd he will gather the lost sheep into his arms.

May we follow him, even through the valley of darkness, into the fold that he has made ready for us.

30 April: On an infant dying as soon as born

Charles Lamb never had children of his own, never married even, but he wrote this moving poem when a friend’s baby died at birth. Easter tells us that such ‘short visits’ into our lives do have meaning, though beyond our earthly perception. Lamb affirms this and explores the questioning, the pain, of bereaved parents, left with a lifeless beauty after months of anticipation.

I saw where in the shroud did lurk

A curious frame of Nature’s work.

A flow’ret crushed in the bud,

A nameless piece of Babyhood,

Was in a cradle-coffin lying;

Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying;

So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb

For darker closets of the tomb!

She did but ope an eye, and put

A clear beam forth, then strait up shut

For the long dark: ne’er more to see

Through glasses of mortality.

Riddle of destiny, who can show

What thy short visit meant, or know

What thy errand here below?

Shall we say, that Nature blind

Check’d her hand, and changed her mind,

Just when she had exactly wrought

A finish’d pattern without fault?

Could she flag, or could she tire,

Or lack’d she the Promethean fire

(With her nine moons’ long workings sicken’d)

That should thy little limbs have quicken’d?

Limbs so firm, they seem’d to assure

Life of health, and days mature:

Woman’s self in miniature!

Limbs so fair, they might supply

(Themselves now but cold imagery)

The sculptor to make Beauty by.

Or did the stern-eyed Fate descry,

That babe, or mother, one must die;

So in mercy left the stock,

And cut the branch; to save the shock

Of young years widow’d; and the pain,

When Single State comes back again

To the lone man who, ‘reft of wife,

Thenceforward drags a maimed life?

The economy of Heaven is dark;

And wisest clerks have miss’d the mark,

Why Human Buds, like this, should fall,

More brief than fly ephemeral,

That has his day; while shrivel’d crones

Stiffen with age to stocks and stones;

And crabbed use the conscience sears

In sinners of an hundred years.

Mother’s prattle, mother’s kiss,

Baby fond, thou ne’er wilt miss.

Rites, which custom does impose,

Silver bells and baby clothes;

Coral redder than those lips,

Which pale death did late eclipse;

Music framed for infants’ glee,

Whistle never tuned for thee;

Though thou want’st not, thou shalt have them,

Loving hearts were they which gave them.

Let not one be missing; nurse,

See them laid upon the hearse

Of infant slain by doom perverse.

Why should kings and nobles have

Pictured trophies to their grave;

And we, churls, to thee deny

Thy pretty toys with thee to lie,

A more harmless vanity?

Lamb asserts the equality of all in death and challenges our values as they are manifested in cemeteries and monuments. It indeed is churlish to deny relatives a few dolls and trinkets on an infant’s grave when wealthy families raise marble monuments to those who made them rich in the first place.

Kipling was right about this question, his War Graves Commission insisting that all ranks should be buried under white stones, identical except for the personal inscription and regimental badge; no overpowering monuments to admirals or generals.

30th April: On an Infant Dying as Soon as Born

Charles Lamb never had children of his own, never married even, but he wrote this moving poem when a friend’s baby died at birth. Easter tells us that such ‘short visits’ into our lives do have meaning, though beyond our earthly perception. Lamb affirms this and explores the questioning, the pain, of bereaved parents, left with a lifeless beauty after months of anticipation.

I saw where in the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature's work.
A flow'ret crushed in the bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
Was in a cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying;
So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb
For darker closets of the tomb!
She did but ope an eye, and put
A clear beam forth, then strait up shut
For the long dark: ne'er more to see
Through glasses of mortality.
Riddle of destiny, who can show
What thy short visit meant, or know
What thy errand here below?
Shall we say, that Nature blind
Check'd her hand, and changed her mind,
Just when she had exactly wrought
A finish'd pattern without fault?
Could she flag, or could she tire,
Or lack'd she the Promethean fire
(With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd)
That should thy little limbs have quicken'd?
Limbs so firm, they seem'd to assure
Life of health, and days mature:
Woman's self in miniature!
Limbs so fair, they might supply
(Themselves now but cold imagery)
The sculptor to make Beauty by.
Or did the stern-eyed Fate descry,
That babe, or mother, one must die;
So in mercy left the stock,
And cut the branch; to save the shock
Of young years widow'd; and the pain,
When Single State comes back again
To the lone man who, 'reft of wife,
Thenceforward drags a maimed life?
The economy of Heaven is dark;
And wisest clerks have miss'd the mark,
Why Human Buds, like this, should fall,
More brief than fly ephemeral,
That has his day; while shrivel'd crones
Stiffen with age to stocks and stones;
And crabbed use the conscience sears
In sinners of an hundred years.
Mother's prattle, mother's kiss,
Baby fond, thou ne'er wilt miss.
Rites, which custom does impose,
Silver bells and baby clothes;
Coral redder than those lips,
Which pale death did late eclipse;
Music framed for infants' glee,
Whistle never tuned for thee;
Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them,
Loving hearts were they which gave them.
Let not one be missing; nurse,
See them laid upon the hearse
Of infant slain by doom perverse.
Why should kings and nobles have
Pictured trophies to their grave;
And we, churls, to thee deny
Thy pretty toys with thee to lie,
A more harmless vanity?

Lamb asserts the equality of all in death and challenges our values as they are manifested in cemeteries and monuments. It indeed is churlish to deny relatives a few dolls and trinkets on an infant’s grave when wealthy families raise marble monuments to those who made them rich in the first place.

Kipling was right about this question, his War Graves Commission insisting that all ranks should be buried under white stones, identical except for the personal inscription and regimental badge; no overpowering monuments to admirals or generals.

29 April: The dirty clouds having washed their faces.

A few months after yesterday’s letter, Charles Lamb is once again writing to his friend Bernard Barton (B.B.), once again trying to persuade him to slow down. The Lambs are now based in Enfield, about nine miles, 14 km from Central London, not yet carved up for railways and suburbs. The stage coach would be the means to get out to Enfield; today the suburban train or the London omnibus, stopping every few hundred yards to let travellers on and off. And little sign of pleasant farms.

And now, dear B.B., the Sun shining out merrily, and the dirty clouds we had yesterday having washd their own faces clean with their own rain, tempts me to wander up Winchmore Hill, or into some of the delightful vicinages of Enfield, which I hope to show you at some time when you can get a few days up to the great Town. Believe me it would give both of us great pleasure to show you all three (we can lodge you) of our pleasant farms and villages.

— We both join in kindest loves to you and yours.—

CH. LAMB REDIVIVUS. Saturday.

From “The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 6 Letters 1821-1842

These afternoon clouds over London have yet to wash their faces, but Greenwich Park hill was worth wandering up, just to see the storm gathering! With perhaps six or seven miles of countryside in view between the top of Winchmore Hill and the great Town, the view would have been delightful, as Lamb claims.

Redivivus is a Latin word that means reborn, come back to life. Country life was a great pleasure for those with enough money not to worry . . . but . . . the best times never lasted long for Charles and Mary Lamb; indeed he heroically saw her through many harsh times due to what has now been diagnosed as bi-polar disorder. Charles nevertheless made time to spend with their friends.

It can feel heroic or burdensome to keep on visiting or contacting a particular person but doing so may be more of a lifeline than you will ever appreciate in this world. It would certainly have been difficult to visit the Lambs when Mary was undergoing one of her downs but friendships were maintained lifelong. Let’s ask the Lord to bless our friendships.

28 April: A true word spoken in jest.

Charles Lamb could spend hours just staring at the sea from a hollow in this cliff at Fairlight, Sussex. He wrote to his poet friend, Bernard Barton, in 1827:

“Would I could sell or give you some of my Leisure! Positively, the best thing a man can have to do is nothing, and next to that perhaps—good works.”

From “The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 6 Letters 1821-1842.

Leisure, prolonged days of leisure, came comparatively late to Charles Lamb, once he had his pension from the India Office where he worked for a living. Barton, a younger man, was also forced to work for a living; here Lamb is encouraging him to set back from the daily grind and do – nothing.

As another poet, W.H. Davies put it:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.