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Morning Devotion for the Season after Pentecost
May 29, 2024
Feast Day of the First Book of Common Prayer
Reading: Book of Common Prayer, p. 469
I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For if we live, we live unto the Lord. and if we die, we die unto the Lord. Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.
Meditation - Peter Vanderveen
The BBC used to air a program called “Desert Island Discs,” in which select individuals would be asked what musical recordings they would choose to have with them if they were stranded, alone, on a remote island. They could only choose a few.
I have always thought that this question is fascinating. What music would stand the test of time? Even more, what recordings would continue to be interesting and inspiring after repeatedly being played? What wouldn’t quickly grow old? And what genre would prove to be more than a mere entertainment? What would feed one’s soul? I love jazz, but I imagine that I would find it both diminished and diminishing if I were abandoned to myself. I think of jazz as a very social form of music. Hearing it on a desert isle would exacerbate my sense of aloneness. I’d miss the food and drink that I associate with listening to it.
I know that I’d choose something of Brahms. He allowed music to be both playful and somber, both common and magisterial. I’d also be tempted to choose one of Bruckner’s symphonies. He dared, more than most, to try to express the triumph of the infinite.
As far as I know, the BBC never altered their question, asking instead, e.g., what texts one would choose. But I’ve thought of this as well. If you were limited to having available just 4-5 pages from all that has ever been written, what would you keep? This would be a more difficult task for me. But one answer would come to me instantly.
I would choose the first page of the Burial Service from the Book of Common Prayer. These sentences come close to saying all that ever needs to be said. They speak of promise. They speak of solace. They declare redemption. They reject every form of aloneness. They assure us of the constancy of God, for us, and with us, and always on our behalf. They pronounce the victory of life over death.
I’ve read these sentences more times than I can count. I’ve read them as God’s word to us when, in the reality of someone’s dying, we gather to grieve and to acknowledge that, more than sadness, hope endures. I don’t read these words off of a page. I recite them. They are the truth of our lives that prevent despair. As I state them, I look directly at the people before me. I look at their faces. I look into their eyes. No other words could have such import. And each time I do this, I am reminded that I have staked my life on these words.
I came to the Prayer Book a bit late. I was in graduate school when I first encountered the Episcopal Church. The Book of Common Prayer made an immediate impression. I think I can say that after nearly forty years with it, I am well practiced in almost all its pages. I can’t imagine being without it. This would be a most severe poverty. For I know the pages that give me breath, that frame all of life with meaning, and that offer some glimpse into the grandeur of God.
Prayer
O God,
it is good to be alive and numbered with those whom you have made,
I thank you for the gift of life.
O God,
it is good to count in word and deed for ends beyond our own;
I thank you for your use of me if I have been of any service to your purposes.
O God,
it is good to rejoice and to be glad,
I thank you for each person, for each experience of life,
that has brought me happiness.
Miles Lowell Yates: Give Us Grace
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