Friends,

Several different minor things are happening right now that are occasionally affecting worship. You may not have even noticed, but just in case, this is why I have been straying off script.

In the Episcopal Church, we have two different rites in our worship. If you worship with us on Sunday, you are familiar with Rite II, which uses the modern language. Shortly after my ordination, I found myself surprised that I was falling in love with Rite I, which uses a largely made-up dialect that is meant to be poetic and vaguely English. There is this one prayer in the Rite I Eucharist called the prayer of humble access, and it goes like this:

“We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy. Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen.” BCP 337

This is my second favorite prayer, and it is only found in Rite I. The only service we offer at St. Luke’s that is Rite I is the noon healing service. We celebrate this service with the altar against the wall in the narthex with all of the stained glass; that way we all face the same direction, looking at the figure of Christ while we pray. I turn around to face the tiny congregation every Wednesday for the prayer of humble access, so I’ve had to memorize it.

This has inspired me to say more of the service on Sunday morning from memory. I find that when I do this, I feel the prayers more, and it feels right; however, some of that Rite I language starts to seep into my prayers. If you are carefully paying attention, you may hear me say Holy Ghost instead of Holy Spirit, or some other little slip-up. Sometimes a mistake is not really a mistake. The point of prayer is to commune with God earnestly, not to read off of a script perfectly. When I accidentally switch back and forth between these Rites, the meaning stays the same; it just manifests in a way that cuts into my soul a little bit more.

I have noticed something interesting with the prayer of humble access. While I am holding the blessed bread and wine facing Reisa, Mike, and Richard, sometimes I falter when I cannot hear their voices. This prayer is read in unison, and I cannot wing it, as I do at the larger services on Sunday, so it can feel a bit awkward when I slip up.

Religion is a weird thing. While we practice praying by ourselves on Sunday, our mistakes can lead us to discover language and other forms that speak to our soul. However, when we pray together, we need each other’s voices to keep us in sync and to remember the words that feed us week after week. In prayer, there is always a private and a public element, and in the midst of it is our desire to be near God. This desire needs the boldness to say our prayers with the risk of mistakes, while being supported by a chorus of voices to keep us on track.

Blessings,

Nick