And while we’re on the topic of winged creatures, allow me to introduce the Liturgical Grouse. I confess to some considerable ambivalence in allowing the Liturgical Grouse to make an appearance on these pages. I find liturgical grousing to be an easy and oddly satisfying diversion. But it’s also a pastime where I’m far too likely to catch myself displaying a distinct lack of charity. And so, in this venue, liturgical grousing always will be accompanied by an image of a Spruce Grouse. Why? Because the Spruce Grouse also is called the Fool Hen because it is so easily caught.
And so, without further ado, today’s Liturgical Grouse: When I arrived to prepare for this morning’s Eucharist, the paschal candle stood beside the high altar. This struck me as odd, as Pentecost was observed last Sunday. I expected the candle to be beside the baptismal font or even stored away in its sacristy closet. I checked with the Celebrant (one of our elder retirees). He seemed quite surprised that I should ask and informed me firmly that the Pascal Candle should remain in place beside the altar throughout the season of Pentecost. “Lit?” I asked, struggling to come to terms with this idea. Yes. Lit. So I did. And then I sat, as the entering congregants looked sharply at the paschal candle and cast meaningful looks in my direction. At the end of the service, I extinguished the altar and paschal candles. But before I could even complete my reverence, I was assailed by two annoyed elderly female voices tripping over each other in their urgency to correct my error in having allowed the paschal candle to linger. I shrugged helplessly. Not my decision. I’m just the altar guild-acolyte-postulant around here. Father Celebrant wanted it. Ah! Well, why hadn’t I said so earlier? Of course the paschal candle should stay! One of the women quickly began spinning an explanation. The Octave of Pentecost. That was it. In the old days, the 1928 Prayer Book days, the Rite I days, the paschal candle always remained beside the high altar for the eight days of Pentecost. This creative account was brought to an abrupt halt by a snort from Priest Two (another of our retirees; we have several). Nonsense! Despite having trained at the Anglo-Catholic High-Church Seminary (where I, too, am a Daughter of the House), he’d never encountered such a custom. It was time, Priest Two declared, for the paschal candle to be removed…and he delivered an impromptu lecture on the history and uses of the paschal candle so delightfully authoritative that it swept aside all further grousing.
The "Liturgical Grouse"!!!!! I love it!!!!
ReplyDeleteAs you know, that is one of my weaknesses, too.
And that is a good story about the bird (err... bat). The parish I once served in the Caribbean had open windows (i.e., no glass. They had hurricane shutters, huge wooden things, but for routine weather, everything was fully open to the great outdoors.) The doors were normally left propped open, too, and we occasionally had chickens and dogs wandering through during services. A side altar was at the foot of a large statue of Our Lady, and birds regularly nested there; the crook of her arm was a favored spot. I frequently thought of Psalm 84 when I saw them.
O my goodness...someone, quick, call the Liturgical Police!! It concerns me, then makes me smile, that the two lovely women care so deeply about these details as to pounce upon you that fast. Ah yes, the Liturgical Grouse. It dwells within many of us. Mea culpa. Perhaps God sent the bird (bat) to call to mind Ps. 84. Did it have special significance for you yesterday, I wonder, well after the morning candles had been extinguished?
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