Alternative Practice Of The Christian Year In Liturgical Churches

St. Gregory Nyssen Episcopal Church in San Francisco draws on ancient traditions of both the Eastern and Western church, as illuminated by modern scholarship, in its innovative practice of the Christian year. In contrast to many modern churches, St. Gregory's makes Holy Week and Easter, rather than Christmas, the high point of the year.

Working creatively with the Christian year requires grasping its fundamental spirit. Put simply, the Christian year is a lectionary—a plan for reading the Bible in church. It does not commemorate times when scriptural events actually happened (except for the Passion these are unknown) but instead schedules readings in thematic clusters, which we call "seasons." Though the lectionary grew by fits in overlapping segments, historical research finds that all parts center on the death and resurrection of Jesus. This point is plain in the Passion reading cycle, but the readings for the festal round commemorating his birth and ministry were also anciently chosen for Passion associations and synchronized with other Passion readings months away. By no accident, our calendar's primitive unity mirrors the gospels themselves, which constantly present Jesus' ministry and teaching in the light of his cross and his risen life with his church. An "Easter Church" and the Lenten Season St. Gregory Nyssen Episcopal Church in San Francisco shapes the year to promote this basic New Testament focus, drawing on ecumenical tradition and modern learning. Every Sunday service begins with the ancient universal greeting, "Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!" and, as in Eastern churches, Lent never suppresses Alleluias or other joyful Sunday chants. Above all, Holy Week (Passion Week) centers our community life. As one lay member puts it, "This is an Easter church; other churches I've known are Christmas churches." Another has observed, "There are two seasons at St. Gregory's—Easter and Easter's Coming." Soon after Epiphany, members organize to clean the church, write and rehearse music, plan worship, publicize, send invitations, cook, and create art work and vestments. A festive Mardi Gras supper-Eucharist, with a parish talent show and children's piñata party, starts Lent, followed by the traditional Ash Wednesday morning rites. Thereafter, clergy prepare candidates for baptism and—in years when the bishop will visit us— for confirmation at the Maundy service (see below). Creating a traditional and popular Holy Week today demands innovation. Ancient Holy Week services filled each day with scriptural devotions for people with leisure to follow them. Modern liturgists who crop and compress these, while keeping the familiar calendar, are still finding working people must skip important services. At St. Gregory's we instead reschedule these devotions so that busy people can take full part. A weekly Lenten series of scripture meditations, venerating the cross in Taizé format, concludes on the Friday evening before Holy Week with a Byzantine-style reading of all four Passion stories. Thus, traditional Good Friday devotions from East and West spread through Lent, preparing for our chief Passion commemoration. Palm Sunday Procession On Palm Sunday most Western liturgies re-enact Jesus' entering Jerusalem, and then read one of the synoptic Passions, doubling up from two ancient lectionaries to underscore the Passion focus of the week ahead. But modern scriptural criticism shows the entry story is itself a Passion meditation rather than a historical account. So without doubling up, we devote this and every Holy Week service to one Passion scripture. Our Palm Sunday opens the week with a congregational procession around the block, flourishing a forest of local palm fronds and singing psalm-refrain Hosannas to the rhythm of drums, sistrum rattles, noisy thuribles, and other instruments—all in Ethiopian and other African liturgical use today. Along the way, we gather neighbors and bystanders to join us for the sermon and Eucharist and for more services through the week. Maundy Tuesday Baptism On Maundy Tuesday evening (not the traditional Thursday), we read John's version of the Last Supper. G. Diekmann and others have argued that this timing, which suits John's passion story, is the likeliest actual date for the event, but we adopted it for pastoral reasons. Even after we scheduled all our services at convenient evening hours, our lay people found it hard to devote three nights in a row to church, and Good Friday attendance particularly suffered. Since Tuesday was already our regular night for parish suppers and meetings, we took Diekmann's suggestion, and attendance at all Holy Week services increased. The Last Supper service in Holy Week became to model for all our weekly Tuesday gatherings. Maundy Tuesday features another calendar innovation, again meeting a pastoral need in the light of research: it is our chief night of the year for baptism. Until recently, in concert with mainline liturgical renewal, we baptized at the Easter Vigil, dismissing the complaints of parents who found the late hour hard for children, and candidates who found the Easter congregation, thronged with strangers, a strange context for this intimate action. Increasingly our people opted for baptism at other times, when they could gather family and friends to meet St. Gregory's regular community. Then research by T. Talley and P. Bradshaw discovered that baptism was not anciently part of the Easter Vigil, but happened in more intimate services before Easter, suggesting we seek a similar alternative. John's story of the Last Supper and the footwashing provided the answer. Footwashing, the one ritual action John describes Jesus performing that night, is John's closest connection of Jesus with baptism. After three years we have agreed, moreover, that the Easter Vigil flows smoother and swifter without the added baptismal rites. We fill our flexible worship space with dinner tables, under a tent/like array of African folk fabrics that soften the acoustics and lend an air of intimate splendor. On this night, as at all Tuesday suppers, we follow the second-century Didache rite, sharing the eucharistic bread and cup in the course of a meal. (Several usable versions of this supper rite are published; we call ours the "Feast of Friends," from its Jewish title, chaburah.) The congregation arrives bearing potluck dishes and sets them on sideboards. After lighting lamps, singing a Passion carol, and sharing hors d'oeuvres with a glass of wine, we bless the eucharistic loaf to start the meal and serve courses one by one. Readings from John's account of the Last Supper accompany each course, with silences and guided conversation at each table. All take turns serving each other, as John's gospel emphasizes. Hymns of the Last Supper and the Passion fill the evening. Supper concludes with John's story of the footwashing. At that point we baptize our candidates, the bishop confirms them, and the whole church sings a Russian chant assuring them they have put on Christ. Those baptized take candles specially decorated with their baptismal names and join the clergy carrying bowls of water to each table to start the footwashing there, where each washes the feet of another in turn. Such a mixture of baptism and footwashing occurred anciently at Milan, but here we enroll the whole congregation. At last we bless the eucharistic cup and share it to complete the meal. The service ends with the missa, and ancient blessing of intimate warmth and joy, rediscovered by A. Kavanagh. The congregation crowds around the bishop singing the traditional Russian chant "God grant him many years!" as the bishop lays hands on everyone in rapid succession, blessing us all. Good Friday Triumphal Vespers We keep Good Friday with a triumphal vesper service celebrating Christ's universal victory on the cross, and its promise of resurrection—the authentic biblical context for the Passion, particularly emphasized in Eastern church worship. Our worship space and ministers are decked in black and red cloths from folk weavers in the wide ecumenical world outside the Christian church. After lighting lamps and reading appointed lessons from the Old and New Testaments, we sing John's Passion to the remarkably modern-sounding medieval chant of Sarum. The congregation take the part of Christ, while choir and soloists sing the rest. This arrangement, invented by R. Carskadden, causes newcomers to tell us every year what an overwhelming experience they had singing Christ's part. Following the sermon, all process to the altar table in a simple dance-step, singing of the triumph of the cross. There the clergy cense the table and the people, and all place flowers in profusion around the icon of Jesus' burial, while chants and prayers from East and West recall the burial story and Jesus' presence today with all the departed awaiting resurrection. At last we hand out hot-cross buns to end the Good Friday fast, and leave the church quietly. It is a hushed and intimate conclusion to what many of our people find the most moving service of the year. Easter Vigil Early Christians kept Easter at night, like the Jewish Passover. Starting with a special form of the homely evening lamplighting, they read, sang, prayed, and feasted until dawn. Modern Christians keeping vigil on a smaller scale normally celebrate one of these moments of light and sleep through the other. We choose the lamplighting and begin Easter at nightfall when all ages can attend, for this is our one Easter service, bringing the whole congregation together. It is also our most ecumenical service, as clergy from other churches and parish alumni return year after year to celebrate with us, and newcomers swell our attendance to over two hundred worshipers. We deck the church with special artwork, vest all clergy and lay ministers in bright Indian and African folk fabrics, and load side tables with food for the feast. As darkness falls in the unlighted church, the choir chant and lead arriving worshipers in simple folk carols until the clergy enter to welcome the people and explain the service for first-timers, enrolling their full participation. As the choir begins a Bulgarian-Russian chant depicting angels hymning the Resurrection, the clergy leave to fetch the Paschal Candle. (This is not the cryptic vestigial symbol church suppliers sell, but a tall, stout, plain candle our people have gorgeously painted all over in colored waxes.) We light no magical "new fire" but carry in the Paschal Candle already lighted—the earlier and homlier custom—to the traditional Western Exsultet chant. Meanwhile the candlelight spreads to people's hand-candles throughout the church, and then a vigil of readings, silences, and hymns begins. In fiery semidarkness we read four Old Testament passages of promise and salvation, ending with the Creation story in Genesis 1 (one of the latest passages written in Hebrew scripture, and richly eschatological), a Pauline letter, and a sermon. Then all stand to hear the original conclusion to Mark's gospel, the story of the empty tomb. Now, for the first of many times on this night, we sing the Easter Troparion from ancient Jerusalem: "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life." This first time we sing it in the original Greek, to a Greek tune; soon we will sing it in English to the tunes of many nations, while "tramping death" with dances, as Christians anciently did. But first the congregation process out to the courtyard, singing a litany that calls departed saints and heroes of every age to "Come rejoice with us!" Throughout Lent church members have nominated this list, and many of the names now draw delight and laughter from the crowd. There the preaching professor from our local Baptist seminary mightily delivers a joyous ancient Easter sermon, attributed both to Hippolytus of Rome and John Chrysostom, inviting everyone to feast at the Easter banquet whether they have fasted or not. Then all re-enter the church—now brightly lit—singing the troparion and moving in step around the altar table. Here for the next half hour the whole congregation of two hundred sing and dance classic Western and Eastern carols to the rhythm of drums and sistrums, and chant the Eastern troparion, now to Slavic, now to Arabic or early American melodies. Between hymns clergy of all denominations cense and greet the people—"Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!"—and blessing them, renew the dance. The kiss of peace concludes the dances, the bread and wine come to the table for the eucharistic thanksgiving and Communion. A final dance carol ends with the clergy blessing the people. Then tables of food and drink are carried in, and we feast past midnight. At last the worshipers team up to straighten the church, go home to sleep, and return for our Easter picnic at noon. Easter Season and Pentecost Easter continues in a festive spirit until Pentecost. Easter is the season of our annual stewardship pledge drive, a season we choose because the Resurrection inspires all Christian community living, planning and service. Moving the drive to this season even strengthened our pledges. At Pentecost we fill the church with tongues, first singing the Acts story in the original Greek, then in a rush of church members reading at once in all the languages they know—a surprising variety!—and finally in English before the sermon. All these celebrations, newly combining music and customs from many ages and churches, revive the popular spirit that once characterized traditional forms. After one Easter service, a Jesuit professor told his students, "You have just had the closest possible experience to worship in the fourth century." Christmas Innovations In Western churches the Advent/Christmas/Epiphany seasonal cycle has entered long-needed revision. Christmas and Epiphany, originally two dates for the same feast, later acquired distinctive readings from the Nativity cycle, rather accidentally following a season of eschatological readings labeled "Advent"—the name for the Roman imperial judgment review. Rationalizing this arrangement is difficult—and superfluous now—because the medieval Western four-week Advent and twelve-day Christmas has vanished in all but name. Popular custom and scholarly reform now extend both seasons months earlier into the year. Unlike Easter, Christmas has become a folk festival, which popular culture celebrates during the weeks before not after, December 25. Christian evangelistic priorities press official worship to follow suit, and our traditional church year's history gives no grounds to resist such a popular choice. Indeed, official reform has already set the new course. Virtually all revised lectionaries start the traditional Advent readings on justice and eschatological hope in October; and because the lectionary creates our "season," Advent now begins there. (Some Eastern lectionaries traditionally provide an earlier Advent; in the West, Church of England reformers have led in this direction with innovative reading schemes, such as the modular Lectionary 2.) Although colorful printed church calendars may still suggest the bygone seasonal schedule, parish worship planners now have every reason to embrace liturgical and evangelistic reality creatively. At St. Gregory's we have tried out various revised lectionaries during this season—most recently the English Lectionary 2, which offers innovations beyond calendar reform. Now and throughout the year our children follow the plan in a simpler way, with a simpler service, before joining the adults for Communion. Thus, parents and children can share the Bible readings together. We choose hymns and prayers to match the Scripture, and sing and dance Christmas carols through most of December along with popular culture. And as at Easter, we celebrate Christmas with a single evening Eucharist for the whole congregation at the lamplighting hour so children can take an active part. On this night we present the Nativity reading in the form of a folk play composed from several English medieval mystery plays, enrolling both adults and children, and enlivened with congregational carol-singing. Because Christmas is conventionally a family occasion (indeed, many of our single people are away visiting relatives) we conclude with a simple collation of eggnog and sweets before families and friends go home to exchange gifts together. Our last gathering of the year is a Feast of Friends on New Year's Eve, when our community shares naturally and informally throughout the eucharistic meal, and the final eucharistic cup leads into a night of charades.