Christ Church

Tuesday, March 26th, Annunciation (transf.)
6:00pm ‘Prayers & Praises’ – Haliburton Place
7:00pm Holy Communion & Lenten Programme: Thinking Sacramentally III

Thursday, March 28th
6:30-7:30pm Sparks – Parish Hall

Friday, March 29th
6:00-9:00pm Pathfinders & Rangers – Parish Hall

Sunday, March 31st, Fourth Sunday in Lent
8:00am Holy Communion
10:30am Holy Communion (followed by Simnel Cake in the Hall)
4:00pm Evening Prayer

The collect for today, the Third Sunday in Lent, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962):

WE beseech thee, Almighty God, look upon the hearty desires of thy humble servants and stretch forth the right hand of thy Majesty to be our defence against all our enemies; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Epistle: Ephesians 5:1-14
The Gospel: St Luke 11:14-26

Artwork: James Tissot, Jesus Heals a Mute Possessed Man, 1886-94. Opaque watercolor over graphite on gray wove paper, Brooklyn Museum.

Commemoration of Benedict & Cranmer: King’s College, Halifax, March 21st, 2019

Truth, Lord, yet the little dogs eat of the crumbs
which fall from their masters’ table.

Little dogs. “Dogs bear  the burden of revelation”, Colin Dayan notes (With Dogs on the Edge of Life). They are the bridge between man and nature, between man and God yet dogs are not much mentioned in the Scriptures and hardly ever in a positive light. We hear of sinners being like dogs returning to their vomit and that dogs licked the blood of Jezebel. Hardly attractive images. To call someone a dog in the Jewish Scriptures is to say they are worthless; in short, an insult. And in the New Testament, such as in Revelation and Philippians we are told to “beware of the dogs… the evil doers”. Dogs, it seems, are evil.

Isaiah speaks of “dumb dogs [that] cannot bark” (Is. 56.10) to criticize the watchmen of Israel, the leaders who do not protect and care for their people. A thousand years later, Gregory the Great would turn that phrase completely on its head to speak of dogs that bark against “the foxes and the wolves”, the heretics, in order to protect “the sheep”, the faithful. Preaching as barking! Now there’s a thought!

Several centuries later after him, it became an image for the Ordo Praedicatorum, St. Dominic’s Order of Preachers, later known as Dominicans. And no, the term Dominicans cannot be punned or played with as the Domini Canes, the dogs of the Lord; that is just bad Latin and not historical, just another one of those latter day myths.

There is, however, nothing mythical about the dog with the flaming torch as the symbol for the Order of St. Dominic. And scripturally, at least in terms of one of “the other Books (as Hierome saith) [which] the Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners” but not “to establish any doctrine”, as Cranmer put it in the sixth of the Anglican Thirty-nine Articles, there is the Old Testament Apocryphal or Deuterocanonical Book of Tobias or Tobit, which mentions in a kindly fashion, Tobias’ dog. This provides the sole biblical instance of the long-standing view of dogs as faithful and loyal companions much like Odysseus’s dog, Argos, in the Odyssey. He alone recognises his master, though disguised as a beggar in his return to reclaim Ithaca, and then dies but without betraying him. Seeing Argos brings tears to Odysseus’ eyes. As Homer beautifully puts it,“Argos passed into the darkness of death, now that he had fulfilled his destiny of faith and seen his master once more after twenty years”.

In the New Testament, there are the dogs that are the companions of Lazarus who lies at the gate of Dives, the rich man, “full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table”. It is the dogs who “came and licked his sores”. That, too, is a touching image of compassion and care, of fidelity and fellowship, and as such something which belongs to the formative nature of Benedictine monasticism which shaped Europe and beyond. And then there is this gospel story, a most powerful and yet disturbing story in which rejection, and silence, and even insult give place, finally and heartbreakingly, to mercy and grace. The breakthrough moment is this remarkable women’s last statement to Jesus: “Truth, Lord, yet the little dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table”. Little dogs.

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The collect for today, the Feast of Saint Benedict of Nursia (c. 480-550), Abbot of Monte Cassino, Father of Western Monasticism (source):

O eternal God,
who made Benedict a wise master
in the school of thy service,
and a guide to many called into the common life
to follow the rule of Christ:
grant that we may put thy love above all things,
and seek with joy the way of thy commandments;
through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord,
who liveth and reigneth with thee,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Lesson: Proverbs 2:1-9
The Gospel: St. Luke 14:27-33

Artwork: Nardo di Cione, Saint Benedict, 1355-60. Fresco, Santa Maria Novella, Florence.

The collect for today, the commemoration of Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556), Archbishop of Canterbury, Reformation Martyr (source):

Father of all mercies,
who through the work of thy servant Thomas Cranmer
didst renew the worship of thy Church
and through his death
didst reveal thy strength in human weakness:
strengthen us by thy grace so to worship thee in spirit and in truth
that we may come to the joys of thine everlasting kingdom;
through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Advocate,
who liveth and reigneth with thee,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Epistle: 1 Corinthians 3:9-14
The Gospel: St. John 15:20-16:1

Artwork: Thomas Cranmer, stained glass, Hensley Memorial Chapel, King’s-Edgehill School, Windsor, N.S.

The collect for today, the Feast of Saint Cuthbert (c. 634-87), Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary (source):

Almighty God,
who didst call thy servant Cuthbert from following the flock
to follow thy Son and to be a shepherd of thy people:
in thy mercy, grant that we may so follow his example
that we may bring those who are lost home to thy fold;
through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord,
who liveth and reigneth with thee,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Epistle: 2 Corinthians 6:1-10
The Gospel: St. Matthew 6:24-33

Artwork: St. Cuthbert, stained glass, St. Hilda’s Church, Ashford, England.

“And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me”

“This he said”, John tells, “to show by what death he was to die”; in other words, it is an allusion to the Cross. In saying this Jesus is looking back and echoing a remarkable passage from The Book of Numbers. As such it contributes to our Lenten programme about thinking sacramentally in terms of the images of the Christian sacraments in the Old Testament. The shadows of the Cross reach backwards and extend forwards, we are illumined paradoxically by its shadows.

Sin and grace are inextricably part and parcel of our sacramental thinking. The sacraments only make sense in relation to the forms of human sin and the overcoming of sin by grace conveyed sacramentally. Just consider for a moment the scene in the Book of Numbers. The people of Israel are in the wilderness journey of the Exodus. It is a journey of learning, of discipline and devotion. They are learning just what it means to be the people of Israel, the people of the Law, those who “live by the every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the Lord”, and not by “the devices and desires of our own hearts”, of our inclinations and appetites. Such learning, as with the ancient Greeks, for instance, in Homer’s Odyssey, is learning through suffering which will contribute to a further intensification of that theme in its Christian context as learning through sacrifice.

The idea of learning through sacrifice belongs to the sacraments. Something invisible is made visible, made known to us. Like the Canaanite woman, we perceive the invisible in and through the visible. The things of the world are made the vehicles of our spiritual understanding and life, the means by which we participate in them. These words by Christ echoing Moses belong to our participation in Christ’s sacrifice. That is the whole point of the sacraments. Through the sacraments we participate in Christ’s sacrifice. It means thinking sacramentally. We are not simply passive in relation to God. His grace is given to set us in motion.

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The collect for today, the commemoration of Thomas Ken (1637-1711), Bishop of Bath and Wells, Non-Juror, Hymn Writer (source):

O God, from whom all blessings flow,
by whose providence we are kept
and by whose grace we are directed:
assist us, through the example of thy servant Thomas Ken,
faithfully to keep thy word,
humbly to accept adversity
and steadfastly to worship thee;
through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord,
who liveth and reigneth with thee,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

With the Epistle and Gospel for a Bishop, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962)
The Epistle: 1 Timothy 6:11-16
The Gospel: St. Luke 12:37-44

Ordained an Anglican priest in 1662, Thomas Ken served as rector in several parishes before becoming chaplain to members of the royal family and, in 1685, Bishop of Bath and Wells. A man of principle and strong conviction, he was one of seven bishops imprisoned for refusing to sign King James II’s “Declaration of Indulgence”, the purpose of which was to allow Catholics to resume positions of political power in England. After strong expressions of popular support by the people of London, Bishop Ken was quickly tried and acquitted.

King James II was forced to flee the country when King William and Queen Mary were invited to become co-monarchs of England. William and Mary demanded oaths of allegiance from all persons holding public positions, including the bishops. Thomas Ken and others (known as the Non-Jurors; the older meaning of “juror” is “one who takes an oath”, hence “perjurer” as “one who swears falsely”) refused to take the oath on the grounds that they had sworn allegiance to James and could not during his lifetime swear allegiance to another monarch without making such oaths a mockery. Bishop Ken took this stand as a matter of principle despite his strong disagreement with much that James had done. In 1690, he and the other surviving non-jurors were deposed.

(Most of the bishops of Scotland also refused the oath; William and Mary retaliated by disestablishing the Episcopal Church in Scotland and making the Presbyterian Kirk the established state church there instead.)

Bishop Ken was also a poet and hymn-writer. He wrote the text for the well-loved doxology “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow“, which is actually the last verse of his longer hymn, “Awake My Soul, and with the sun“.

A prayer of Thomas Ken:

God, our heavenly father, make, we pray, the door of this Cathedral Church wide enough to welcome all who need human love and fellowship and a Father’s care; but narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride, and lack of love. Here may the temped find help, the sorrowing receive comfort, the careless be awakened to repentance, and the penitent be assured of your mercy; and here may all your children renew their strength and go on their way in hope and joy; through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Artwork: Thomas Ken window, Wells Cathedral, installed in 1885 to celebrate the bicentenary of his consecration as Bishop of Bath and Wells.

The collect for today, the Feast of Saint Joseph of Nazareth, Guardian of Our Lord, Husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Patron Saint of Canada, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962):

O GOD Most High, who from the family of thy servant David didst raise up Joseph the carpenter to be protector of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of our Lord: Grant that we may so labour in our earthly vocations, that they may become labours of love and service offered unto thee, our Father; through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, who with thee and the Holy Spirit liveth and reigneth, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Epistle: Galatians 4:1-7
The Gospel: St. Matthew 1:18-25

Artwork: Ponziano Loverini, Saint Joseph and the Christ Child, 1902. Oil on canvas, Chiesa dei Santi Pietro e Paolo, Ponte San Pietro, Italy.

Truth, Lord, yet the little dogs eat of the crumbs
which fall from their masters’ table.

Little dogs. Dogs are not much mentioned in the Scriptures and rarely in a positive light. We hear of sinners being like dogs returning to their vomit and of dogs licking the blood of Jezebel, hardly attractive images. To call someone a dog in the Old Testament was to suggest that they were worthless; in short, an insult. In the New Testament such as in Revelation or as in Philippians we are told: “Look out for the dogs … for the evil-workers.” Dogs, it seems, are evil. Don’t ask about cats, let alone ‘snakes, shamrocks and shillelaghs’, not to mention green beer. St. Patrick? Well that is another matter, yet one which has to do with perseverance, attention, and insight as in this Gospel. And so with dogs, too, perhaps.

Isaiah speaks of “dumb dogs [that] cannot bark” (Is. 56.10), criticizing the watchmen, the leaders of Israel. Yet more than a thousand years later that phrase was turned about to become an image for dogs as preachers, meaning dogs that dobark and, indeed, bark incessantly against “foxes and wolves”, the heretics that threaten “the sheep”, the faithful, as Gregory the Great imagines. Preaching as barking! Just saying.

Several centuries later after him, it became an image for the Ordo Praedicatorum, St. Dominic’s Order of Preachers, later known as Dominicans. And no, the term Dominicans cannot be punned or played with as the Domini Canes, the dogs of the Lord; that is just bad Latin and not historical, just another one of those latter day myths. There is, however, nothing mythical about the dog with the flaming torch as the symbol of the Order of St. Dominic. And scripturally, at least in terms of one of “the other Books (as Hierome saith) [which] the Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners; but yet doth it not apply them to establish any doctrine”, as the sixth of the Anglican Thirty-nine Articles puts it, there is the Old Testament Apocryphal or Deuterocanonical Book of Tobias or Tobit, which mentions in a kindly fashion, Tobias’ dog. This provides the sole biblical instance of the long-standing view of dogs as faithful and loyal companions much like Odysseus’s dog, Argos, in the Odyssey. He alone recognises his master, though disguised as a beggar in his return to reclaim Ithaca, and then dies but without betraying him. Seeing Argos brings tears to Odysseus’ eyes. It is a touching scene. As Homer beautifully puts it, “Argos passed into the darkness of death, now that he had fulfilled his destiny of faith and seen his master once more after twenty years”.

In the New Testament, there are the dogs that are the companions of Lazarus who lies at the gate of Dives, the rich man, “full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table”. It is the dogs who “came and licked his sores”. That, too, is a touching image of compassion and care. No doubt, they, too, desired to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. And then there is this story, a most powerful and yet disturbing story in which rejection, and silence, and even insult give place, finally and heartbreakingly, to mercy and grace. The breakthrough moment is this remarkable women’s last statement to Jesus: “Truth, Lord, yet the little dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table”. Little dogs.

Read the rest of this entry »