A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go to the celebration of ministry for a friend of mine. A celebration of ministry is basically the official liturgical welcome of a new rector to the parish. My friend has been rector there quite a while, but as life often gets in the way, it took a while to get to the actual celebration. But no matter -- she deserves celebration every day, as she is an absolutely superior priest.
The first time I met her I was on a team for Cursillo, and she was one of the priests on board. I thought of her as a rather nice lady and enjoyed her personality and her reverence for saying mass. During a Cursillo team meeting, it almost always either ends or has a Eucharist at some point. As musician of the team, I stood next to her at one of them, and we always hold hands to say the Lord's prayer. So there I was holding her hand, and I felt this enormous umbrella (of sorts) come over me, and suddenly I was there, cradled in the arms of God. It was spine-tingling, and I'd never felt that close to God before.
Granted: her daughter is a Canon to the (my?) Diocesan Bishop and I'd been to many a Eucharist with daughter presiding. Daughter is also insanely amazing. But I didn't feel QUITE as much of an Umbrella as I did with K.
My term "God-Umbrella" comes from Evensong by Gail Godwin. In the book, a priest is discussing a widow's thoughts on God. The widow expresses her general apathy toward "God," but she did say the following about going to church with her husband:
"I liked spying on him when he was praying. He did seem to be in touch with something, and I felt I was included, too. I was covered under his God-umbrella, so to speak." (p. 125-6)
I'd never really noticed this phenomenon until I read about it, and then I started observing God-umbrellas. My mother's was thin and tentative even though she has one of the most intense faiths I've known. My father's was calm and beautiful, even though he didn't believe in organized religion. His came out only once in a while, and NEVER during Catholic Mass. (reminder: I was raised Roman Catholic.)
Anyway: all through that Cursillo weekend, while I had been freaking out about my musical duties (I'd never done it before and it was NUTS!), I had almost taken her God-Umbrella for granted. After the final Eucharist, I didn't want to go back home. It took quite a bit of tears and love to get me away. As when I made my Cursillo, I just didn't want to leave.
It had been well over a year -- probably closer to 2 -- since I'd heard her pray or preside over Eucharist. We had met for fun many a time, and had a blast. Including eating bagels next to a bagel shop at a cafe called A La Mode, which did not serve pie (we both thought this ridiculous).
And I went to her celebration of ministry, 1.5 hours away from home. Worth it.
There is one point in the celebration where the priest (K) kneels amidst the congregation and prays. She knelt in the aisle (tiled!) and said the following prayer:
O Lord my God, you have made me worthy, through the free gift of grace bestowed upon me at Baptism, to have you come under my roof, you have called your servant to stand in your house, and to serve at your altar. To you and to your service, I devote myself, body, soul, and spirit. Fill my memory with the record of your mighty works; enlighten my understanding with the light of your Holy Spirit; and may all the desires of my heart and will center in what you would have me do. Make me an instrument of your salvation for the people entrusted to my care, and may I be open to the ministries fof those who serve with me in this place. Grant that I may faithfully administer your holy sacraments and, by my life and teaching, set forth your turn and living word. Be always with me in carrying out the duties of your ministry. In prayer, quicken my devotion; in praises, heighten my love and gratitude; in preaching, give me readiness of thought and expression; and grant that, by the clearness and brightness of your holy word, all the world may be drawn into your blessed kingdom.
I cried. Couldn't help it. I had forgotten the sound of her voice and the expansiveness under her umbrella. I love knowing her and being her friend, but I had forgotten this gift of hers until I heard her "officially" pray again. But when my husband asked me what was wrong, I couldn't answer. I don't think I knew why at that point either. Even though I realized that I had missed the sound of her voice praying, I'm not sure that missing her voice was quite the precise reason why.
Once the celebration was over, I got to give her a huge hug, schmooze a little with her and people I know from her congregation, and then go home.
As beautiful as it had been, I felt like I was going out into the rain again. I think that's why I cried.
The first time I met her I was on a team for Cursillo, and she was one of the priests on board. I thought of her as a rather nice lady and enjoyed her personality and her reverence for saying mass. During a Cursillo team meeting, it almost always either ends or has a Eucharist at some point. As musician of the team, I stood next to her at one of them, and we always hold hands to say the Lord's prayer. So there I was holding her hand, and I felt this enormous umbrella (of sorts) come over me, and suddenly I was there, cradled in the arms of God. It was spine-tingling, and I'd never felt that close to God before.
Granted: her daughter is a Canon to the (my?) Diocesan Bishop and I'd been to many a Eucharist with daughter presiding. Daughter is also insanely amazing. But I didn't feel QUITE as much of an Umbrella as I did with K.
My term "God-Umbrella" comes from Evensong by Gail Godwin. In the book, a priest is discussing a widow's thoughts on God. The widow expresses her general apathy toward "God," but she did say the following about going to church with her husband:
"I liked spying on him when he was praying. He did seem to be in touch with something, and I felt I was included, too. I was covered under his God-umbrella, so to speak." (p. 125-6)
I'd never really noticed this phenomenon until I read about it, and then I started observing God-umbrellas. My mother's was thin and tentative even though she has one of the most intense faiths I've known. My father's was calm and beautiful, even though he didn't believe in organized religion. His came out only once in a while, and NEVER during Catholic Mass. (reminder: I was raised Roman Catholic.)
Anyway: all through that Cursillo weekend, while I had been freaking out about my musical duties (I'd never done it before and it was NUTS!), I had almost taken her God-Umbrella for granted. After the final Eucharist, I didn't want to go back home. It took quite a bit of tears and love to get me away. As when I made my Cursillo, I just didn't want to leave.
It had been well over a year -- probably closer to 2 -- since I'd heard her pray or preside over Eucharist. We had met for fun many a time, and had a blast. Including eating bagels next to a bagel shop at a cafe called A La Mode, which did not serve pie (we both thought this ridiculous).
And I went to her celebration of ministry, 1.5 hours away from home. Worth it.
There is one point in the celebration where the priest (K) kneels amidst the congregation and prays. She knelt in the aisle (tiled!) and said the following prayer:
O Lord my God, you have made me worthy, through the free gift of grace bestowed upon me at Baptism, to have you come under my roof, you have called your servant to stand in your house, and to serve at your altar. To you and to your service, I devote myself, body, soul, and spirit. Fill my memory with the record of your mighty works; enlighten my understanding with the light of your Holy Spirit; and may all the desires of my heart and will center in what you would have me do. Make me an instrument of your salvation for the people entrusted to my care, and may I be open to the ministries fof those who serve with me in this place. Grant that I may faithfully administer your holy sacraments and, by my life and teaching, set forth your turn and living word. Be always with me in carrying out the duties of your ministry. In prayer, quicken my devotion; in praises, heighten my love and gratitude; in preaching, give me readiness of thought and expression; and grant that, by the clearness and brightness of your holy word, all the world may be drawn into your blessed kingdom.
I cried. Couldn't help it. I had forgotten the sound of her voice and the expansiveness under her umbrella. I love knowing her and being her friend, but I had forgotten this gift of hers until I heard her "officially" pray again. But when my husband asked me what was wrong, I couldn't answer. I don't think I knew why at that point either. Even though I realized that I had missed the sound of her voice praying, I'm not sure that missing her voice was quite the precise reason why.
Once the celebration was over, I got to give her a huge hug, schmooze a little with her and people I know from her congregation, and then go home.
As beautiful as it had been, I felt like I was going out into the rain again. I think that's why I cried.