From The Blog

I miss liturgy

I miss liturgy.

I miss the crunch of the gravel as I drive under the gates and onto campus.

I miss discovering that Joy or some other kind soul has laundered my alb.

I miss banter with devoted altar guild members and vergers.

I miss liturgy.

I miss watching new acolytes serving for the first time, and my befuddlement since they must have been in the nursery just last week.

I miss turning in my hymnal, not recognizing the number, but smiling when I hear the tune.

I miss proclaiming “Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”

I miss our lectors’ voices as they share God’s Word.

I miss liturgy.

I miss preaching and only worrying about the content of my text rather than my mask, the microphone, the other microphone, and the livestream.

I miss the Lay Worship Leader praying our prayers, remembering names we say every week, are new this week, and may not be on the list next week.

I miss making bad jokes during the announcements and my pride in the effective ministries of the congregation.

I miss liturgy.

I miss my vain flourish as I flip the chasuble over my head, and thinking of Isabel, who probably made it.

I miss assuming the orans.

I miss the sun streaming through the east windows and saying hello to the Holy Spirit, as well as to Henry and David and Sandy and so many others.

I miss liturgy.

I miss the choir’s exquisite anthems.

I miss placing the bread in people’s hands.

I miss smiling at a child – a child who doesn’t exactly know what is going on, but knows that it is something holy.

I miss liturgy.

I miss reminding folks that they are blessed to be the dwelling place of the Most High.

I miss ushers roaring “Thanks be to God!”

I miss hugs, fist bumps, news, and welcomes at the door.

I miss the liturgy, a Greek word meaning “work for the people.”

This pandemic will pass.  The sun will rise on a normal Sunday.  These remanicences and laments will fade into memory.

Until then, the sacrament is still shared, the Word is still proclaimed, and the work of the Church still continues.  But I still miss.  

And other liturgies have gained new meaning: baking bread, wearing a mask, time with family, firing up the Zoom machine for the umpteenth time.  And those liturgies are important.  

But I miss those Sunday works, those Sunday liturgies.  Those things that make us us, make the Chapel the Chapel, that make me me.

And until that glorious day, I wait and miss. 


NOTE: This post was inspired by a Facebook post by the Very. Rev. Stephen Kidd, Rector of St. Mark’s, Gulfport, and Dean of the Coast Convocation.