Now the silence, now the peace

 
Sitting here looking out at the gorgeous fall sunshine after the Mexican Hurricane rain yesterday. 

I'm in the middle of a day off, taken because we had a large party last night for our motorcycle meetup group and some people stayed over.  They are en route to a weekend rally in Sparks, Oklahoma (I am not going to that).  It was nice to get up leisurely this morning, prepare coffee and breakfast tacos, and hang out with friends.  Josie and Boudreaux adored having all the company and attention, and two of our friends brought their two Yorkies, and all the dogs got along together...a first!!!

Now they've headed up the road and day's before me to arrange as I wish.  Now the silence, now the peace...I have some cleanup to do, and a lot of work I brought home with me...but also a great sense of well-being and comfort.  I don't host easily.  I find it stressful to prepare for.  But once I do it, it's very enjoyable and satisfying. 

I'm especially grateful for this little respite in what has been, and will continue to be, an incredibly busy fall. 

This hymn comes to my mind, surprising me, as I have felt very spiritually sterile for several weeks:

Now the silence, now the peace,
Now the empty hands uplifted;
Now the kneeling, now the plea,
Now the Father’s arms in welcome;
Now the hearing, now the power,
Now the vessel brimmed for pouring;
Now the body, now the blood,
Now the joyful celebration;
Now the wedding, now the songs,
Now the heart forgiven, leaping;
Now the Spirit’s visitation,
Now the Son’s epiphany;
Now the Father’s blessing,
Now, now, now.

You can hear a midi of it here.  The text is by Jar­o­slav J. Vaj­da, and he says this about it: 

The hymn text orig­in­at­ed while I was shav­ing one morn­ing (a time when I get a lot of orig­in­al ideas). I was ed­it­or of This Day mag­a­zine at the time. Since my teen­age years I have been writ­ing and trans­lat­ing po­e­try, so ma­ny po­e­tic phras­es run through my mind, some of them end­ing up on pa­per. Some­where in the back of my mind, dur­ing my pre­vi­ous eight­een years in the full-time par­ish min­is­try, I was ac­cum­u­lat­ing rea­sons and ben­e­fits in wor­ship. I have felt that we oft­en get so lit­tle out of wor­ship be­cause we an­ti­ci­pate so lit­tle, and we sel­dom come with a buck­et large enough to catch all the show­er of grace that comes to us in that set­ting. Sud­den­ly the hymn be­gan to form in my mind as a list of awe­some and ex­ci­ting things that one should ex­pect in wor­ship, cul­min­at­ing in the Eu­cha­rist and ben­e­dic­tion. The in­troit or en­trance hymn re­sult­ed.

Subconsciously I was pro­duc­ing a hymn with­out rhyme or with­out worn cli­chés, de­pend­ing en­tir­ely on rhy­thm and re­pe­ti­tion to make it sing­a­ble. The re­vers­al of the Trin­i­tar­i­an or­der in the ben­e­dict­ion was made not on­ly to make the con­clu­sion mem­or­a­ble, but to in­di­cate the or­der in which the Trin­i­ty ap­proach­es us in wor­ship: The Spir­it brings us the Gos­pel, by which God’s bless­ing is re­leased in our lives.

I pray today for an alive, worshipful, aware experience...no matter what I end up doing.  AndI pray that for you who read, as well.