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Cynthia Bourgeault, music, praise, song, Stonington Maine, taize, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, worship
Sometimes virtual travel is almost as good as being there. So it was last evening when a large rowdy band of Christians walked up a hill in Stonington, Maine and was transported from St. Mary’s Church to the chapel at Taizé, France to worship God in song. Not unlike Stonington, Taizé is a tiny town with a stable population of just under 200 people. in the summer, however, over 100,000 people, most of them young pilgrims, descend on Taizé to sing and serve in what becomes for them a spiritual homecoming.
We were lots more than half a hundred, spilling out of pews and finding our places around the sanctuary to sing those same melodies with gusto and devotion – none more devoted and joyous than our “maestro,” Cynthia Bourgeault. It was a glorious session accompanied with piano, harp and base viol.
I thought of how music is often able touch us in places where nothing else can. Last evening was one of those times when community was clearly deepened among us. I was aware also, however, of our monthly gatherings at the Sophia Center in Binghamton, NY where we also pray in the manner of Taizé. We are sometimes only three or four souls singing to recorded music or even just with our own voices. While not as spectacular, we are certainly as fervent in our praise and live by the motto that “Those who sing, pray twice.” I recommend it highly – even if it is a solo song, a simple song, to God.
After reading a traditional translation of Psalm 122 in today’s lectionary, I came upon what the author called a “metaphoric” rendering wherein “one can experience the peace of the city of God and the kingdom of God as an interior reality…where the sacred geography of the Middle East becomes a reality in the heart.” Listen with your “inner ear” and see with your “inner eye” the vision presented, and then consider the author’s call to go deeper by reflecting upon “the inner geography of your own heart and being” and answer how you are that city, that temple, that kingdom.
This morning I am thinking of the notion of “Sabbath” and how the busyness of our lives has squeezed the practice that originated in the book of Genesis (God resting on “the seventh day” from all the work of creation) into a religious service that may last an hour at most. I speak of Catholic practice, which is what I know best, and am pushing aside any sense of commitment and feeling of the difference that accompanies this most important day of the week for many people, in order to shine a spotlight on how things “used to be.” I would wager that “no unnecessary servile work on Sunday” is a concept unknown to most Catholics under the age of 40 years.
There are days when, if I stop to think about it, the capacities of the internet for understanding what I’m looking for are quite astounding. I had little hope of finding the answer to the rightful name of my “prayer plant” when I went searching this morning, but there it was, almost immediately – the name with a picture so I would know it was the one I was looking for: Maranta leuconeura. There was even a short video to illustrate the miraculous nature and reason why this plant got its “nickname.” Every night while I’m sleeping my friend, Maranta, is deep in prayer. All her leaves are raised to a vertical position, just as some of us raise our arms to heaven in worship, singing. In the morning, if I rise before dawn, I catch her in her concluding prayer and am reminded that it is now my turn to lift my mind and heart to God during the day as she lowers her arms. (A caution: The video never captures the fullness of her stretch as I do.)
Psalm 67 may be considered, says one commentary, “an international hymn of praise because it calls all nations and peoples of the earth to enter into the worship of God…” In speaking of the Psalms as they appear in the Hebrew Scriptures, this commentary continues: “In many of the Psalms there is a ‘we’ versus ‘they’ mentality. This sentiment has been overcome in this Psalm, and thus speaks, perhaps, of an unusual development in the religious ideals of the Hebrew people. They have moved from a narrow conception of the divine to one that is shared by all peoples of the earth…Our task as contemporary creatures is not simply to pray for ourselves, or narrowly for those around us who are dear to us, but to give voice for the whole earth…Imagine yourself as creation’s voice, as an instrument through which those without a voice can enter with praise the presence of God…There is often a wide gap between the vision of beauty held out for the world and the experience of pain and ugliness we find in it. Those who pray hold these two regions together, and will not let them fall apart.”
It’s always difficult to explain what happens on a retreat. There are the facts, of course: the make-up of the group (here at Glastonbury Abbey in Hingham, Massachusetts from all across the USA, with one person from Canada and one from England), the texts or topics covered, the prayer and worship services…but it is the deepening interactions and the silence that are bring the fruit of the experience to those gathered.
