Mid-winter Musings

Fairfield County is now firmly in the grips of winter.  The truck thermometer read 22 degrees Fahrenheit when I did my chores this morning at the barn.  A light dusting of snow covers the ground, and the horses are very glad to be out of their stalls now that the ground is frozen (they tear up too much pasture when things are muddy and therefore have to stay in the barn until the ground is frozen.)  Just last weekend, Tristan, Chuck, Leo the fat Labrador and I were shooting pheasants in fifty degree weather at Federal Valley.  We bagged six birds, missed two embarrassingly easy shots, and watched one beautiful cock bird glide into the treeline when Leo got excited and galumphed out of range.  It was a good day with lunch at the local ma and pop restaurant, Cardhu, and Dominicanas.  The slower pace of mid-winter life in the countryside always calls me to consider those things that are truly important, and this year is no departure from that rule.

Monday night, Kathy Heim (our organist) conspired with me to offer evensong at the church.  It is a fitting service for the countryside in mid-winter.  After the sentences and confession, we proceeded directly to Phos hilaron by Robert Bridges and Louis Bourgeois, The lessons from the Feast of the Circumcision were answered by Crotch's Mag and Whitneys's paraphrase of the Nunc set to Orlando Gibbons' Song 1.  There was enough plainsong, simplified Anglican chant, and incense for even me, but the most amazing thing about this lovely service was its spontaneity.  I was in the throes of laryngitis, and so was unable to sing or read my accustomed parts.  Kathy chanted, Ivan led the canticles, Frankie and Ann read the lessons, Ivan and Kathy offered thoughts on the lessons, Paul led the state and church prayers,  Ivan offered those prayers requested by members of our congregation, and I merely received the gift of worship from my friends.  I was helpless in a sense, but through my friends, I met God.  The liturgy was truly the work of the people here at Saint John's, and the experience got me thinking about what might be.

Imagine a place where the Holy Communion was the basis of our life together.  What would it be like for the ancient devotional societies of the church to cooperate in prayer with the more functional modern mission agencies which labour in our parish?  Could it be possible that evangelical commitment to study God's Word might be blended with the devotional practices of the church catholic such as confession and stations?  Could the personal devotional practices of the modern west be coupled with fasting and the disciplines of another age and another part of the world?  And could God, would God, work through such a mix to send his people out in the power of the Holy Spirit to 'preach good tidings unto the meek, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.' (Isaiah lxi. I)? 

These are the sorts of things I think about in mid-winter.  Perhaps in the days to come, God will unite our hearts to see such a miraculous fulfillment of the prophesies of Isaiah.