Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834-1892) was known as the “Prince of preachers,” and remains influential to this day among Christians of many denominations. The following readings are from a collection of devotions entitled Morning and Evening, Daily Readings, and have been made into a set of public domain audio files by Librivox.
For those of you who come from traditions that permit the celebration of communion without a priest, we offer this virtual celebration of the Eucharist, or Holy Communion. All baptized Christians are welcome to share with us in this holy mystery. A companion video will be coming shortly. We recommend coming to the table after a time of preparation, such as by listening to one of our “celebration of the word” files, or otherwise engaging in Bible reading, prayer, and confession.
- Hymn: “Jesus Paid it All” featuring Greg Kunde, Dean Peterson vocalists and Diane Bish, organ, from a uprogram entitled “The Name of Jesus”, used in accordance with Creative Commons license.
- Welcome (Presbyterian): “This is the Lord’s table. Our Savior invites those who trust him to share the feast which he has prepared.”
- Sursum Corda: excerpted from a church service at St. Barnabas Anglican Church, Ottawa Canada, 2012, in Community Audio section of Internet Archives.
- Sanctus: Mass for 4 voices, by William Byrd, performed by Ensemble Morales, used in accordance with Creative Commons License. Text: “Holy holy holy Lord God of Hosts. Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.”
- Words of institution: From 1 Corinthians 11
- Eucharistic prayer: from Holy Communion Bromley Parish Church 18th March 2020, uploaded to YouTube by James Harratt, used in accordance with Creative Commons license.
- The Lord’s Prayer, from Matthew, King.
- Agnus Dei: Mass for 4 voices, by William Byrd, performed by Ensemble Morales, used in accordance with Creative Commons License. Text: “Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on us. Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on us. Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, grant us your peace.”
- Anthem: Ave verum corpus, by William Byrd. Performed by Ars Mvsica; public domain at Archive.org. English Translation: “Hail, true Body, born of the Virgin Mary, having truly suffered, sacrificed on the cross for mankind, from whose pierced side water and blood flowed: Be for us a foretaste [of the Heavenly banquet] in the trial of death! O sweet Jesus, O holy Jesus, O Jesus, son of Mary, have mercy on me. Amen”
- Post-communion prayer: From a Lenten service Feb 14, 2016 at Saint James Church, Warrenton, VA, on YouTube, used according to Creative Commons License
- Musical Postlude: Bach, “I am Standing with One Foot in the Grave” BWV 156; Anonymous performance, public domain.
In the mid 14th century a pandemic raged through Europe that makes COVID-19 pale in comparison. The pestilence reached England, starting around June 1348 at the seaport of Melcombe Regis (Weymouth) and decimated the population of western England as the year progressed. By December, it is estimated that more than 30 percent of the population of England had died (some estimates place the death toll as high as 60 percent). Clergy were at particular risk of exposure due to their role ministering to the sick and dying.
So dire did the situation become by January, that Ralph of Shrewsbury, the Bishop of Bath and Wells wrote an extraordinary letter:
“The contagious nature of the present pestilence, which is ever spreading itself far and wide, has left many parish churches and other cures, and consequently the people of our diocese, destitute of curates and priests. And inasmuch as priests cannot be found who are willing out of zeal, devotion, or for a stipend to undertake the care of the foresaid places, and to visit the sick and administer to them the Sacraments of the Church (perchance for dread of the infection and contagion), many, as we understand, are dying without the Sacrament of Penance. These, too, are ignorant of what ought to be done in such necessity, and believe that no confession of their sins, even in a case of such need, is useful or meritorious, unless made to a priest having the keys of the Church. Therefore, desiring, as we are bound to do, the salvation of souls, and ever watching to bring back the wandering from the crooked paths of error, we, on the obedience you have sworn to us, urgently enjoin upon you and command you—rectors, vicars, and parish priests—in all your churches, and you deans, in such places of your deaneries as are destitute of the consolation of priests, that you at once and publicly instruct and induce, yourselves or by some other, all who are sick of the present malady, or who shall happen to be taken ill, that in articulo mortis, if they are not able to obtain any priest, they should make confession of their sins (according to the teaching of the apostle) even to a layman, and, if a man is not at hand, then to a woman. We exhort you, by the present letters, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, to do this, and to proclaim publicly in the aforesaid places that such confession made to a layman in the presumed case can be most salutary and profitable to them for the remission of their sins, according to the teaching and the sacred canons of the Church. And for fear any, imagining that these lay confessors may make known confessions so made to them, shall hesitate thus to confess in case of necessity, we make known to all in general, and to those in particular who have already heard these confessions, or who may in future hear them, that they are bound by the precepts of the Church to conceal and keep them secret; and that, by a decree of the sacred canons, they are forbidden to betray such confession by word, sign, and by any other means whatever, unless those confessing so desire. And (further) should they do otherwise, let such betrayers know that they sin most gravely, and incur the indignation of Almighty God and of the whole Church.” And further to stir up the zeal of both clergy and laity to this work the Bishop grants ample indulgences to such as follow the advice here given them.
“And since late repentance (when, for example, sickness compels and the fear of punishment terrifies) often deceives many, we grant to all our subjects, who in the time of the pestilence shall come to confession to priests having the keys of the Church and power to bind and to loose, before they are taken sick, and who do not delay till the day of necessity, forty days of indulgence. To every priest also who shall induce people to do this, and hear the confessions of those thus brought to confess whilst in health, we grant the same by the mercy of God Almighty, and trusting to the merits and prayers of his glorious Mother, of the Blessed Peter, Paul, and Andrew the Apostles, our patrons, and of all the Saints.”
“You shall further declare, to all thus confessing to lay people in case of necessity, that if they recover they are bound to confess the same sins again to their own parish priest. The Sacrament of the Eucharist, when no priest can be obtained, may be administered by a deacon. If, however, there be no priest to administer the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, faith must, as in other matters, suffice for the Sacrament.”
Francis Gasquet, from whose book this letter was taken, adds the following comment:
“These large derogations from the usual ecclesiastical practice, though consonant alike with Christian charity and the teaching of the Church, are resorted to only in cases of the direst need, and the circular letter of the Bishop of Bath and Wells witnesses to the extreme gravity of the situation throughout the diocese, as early as the month of January, 1349.”
Gasquet, Francis Aiden, The Great Pestilence (A.D. 1348-9), Now Commonly Known as the Black Death. London: Simpkin Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd, 1893.
The entire book is available for free at Project Gutenberg: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/45815/45815-h/45815-h.htm
“I feel like I shouldn’t have given up anything for Lent”, a patient said to me the other day. In the midst of a global pandemic, Lent seems to have taken on a new life. As state and local bodies take drastic actions to curb the transmission of COVID-19, we all suddenly find ourselves in a state of government enforced deprivation and fasting.
Many of us are all but confined to our homes. Travel is restricted, and spring vacations canceled. Schools are closed. Churches are closed. Restaurants, theaters, bowling alleys, and museums are all closed. In grocery stores, masked customers flit about nervously looking for supplies that have sold out, such as eggs or toilet paper. Some people are lucky enough to have work that is deemed “essential”, while others are furloughed and applying for unemployment. The social fabric seems to be ripping apart. Accustomed to a land of plenty, we Americans now find ourselves struggling with privations that are alien to us.
Meanwhile, by coincidence, a large segment of faithful Christians are observing Lent. Lent was conceived as a season of fasting, discipline, and self-sacrifice leading up to Christianity’s holiest and most joyful commemoration, namely Easter. The point of the fasting is to get past ourselves and our own desires, and to intensify our realization of our need for God and his work in our lives.
Whether voluntary or involuntary, this time of deprivation can either be a miserable mess, or it can be something we can see through eyes of faith as a kind of blessing. The meaning of Lent, and of the tribulations brought on by the COVID-19 Pandemic, can best be summarized in a statement passed along to me by a friend: “When we come to the end of ourselves, we see the beginning of God’s faithfulness.”
You wake up, and find that you are sitting in a leather chair in a strange room that looks a bit like a physician’s office. A pleasant bespectacled man tells you that you have died, and are now beginning your afterlife. “Welcome to The Good Place,” he beams. You soon emerge into a sunny, pleasant “neighborhood” filled with saintly seeming people milling about and eating frozen yogurt. Yet not all is as it seems. For one thing, you clearly know that you don’t belong. You were a terrible person in life.
This is the opening premise of the entertaining and thought provoking show, “The Good Place”. Somehow I missed this on NBC and am now binge-watching reruns on a streaming service. I will confine my remarks to the first season, but will directly discuss the shocking twist of the season finale.
Eleanor, a self-absorbed, semi-alcoholic woman whose life’s work was selling a fake product, finds herself dead and consigned to “The Good Place”, but she knows that she doesn’t deserve to be there. A mistake has caused her to switch places with another who shared her name. She decides to try to earn her place anyway and begins ethics lessons with a former ethics professor named Chidi. Meanwhile she has a troubled and catty relationship with her neighbor, Tahani, a tall glamorous former philanthropist, who seems too good to be true, and has some subtle narcissistic traits. After doing the right thing in the midst of numerous ethical dilemmas, Eleanor finally realizes something shocking: “This is actually the Bad Place, isn’t it?”
The show has been compared with the play “No Exit” by existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre, and this is apt. The first season unfolds much like the famous scenario in Sartre’s book. “No Exit” describes a version of Hell. Sartre, who was famous for saying, “Hell is other people” drafted a play in which three main characters are trapped together in a pleasant room. They are dead, and have been consigned to Hell. They have been assigned to spend eternity together. It dawns on them that they are to be each other’s tormentors:
INEZ: Wait! You’ll see how simple it is. Childishly simple. Obviously there aren’t any physical torments—you agree, don’t you? And yet we’re in hell. And no one else will come here. We’ll stay in this room together, the three of us, for ever and ever. . . . In short, there’s someone absent here, the official tortur
GARCIN [sotto voce]: I’d noticed that.
INEZ: It’s obvious what they’re after—an economy of man power—or devil-power, if you prefer. The same idea as in the cafeteria, where customers serve themselves.
ESTELLE: What ever do you mean?
INEZ: I mean that each of us will act as torturer of the two others.
The three characters proceed to do just that, until finally Estelle cracks:
“Open the door! Open, blast you! I’ll endure anything, your red-hot tongs and molten lead, your racks and prongs and garrotes—all your fiendish gadgets, everything that burns and flays and tears—I’ll put up with any torture you impose. Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.”
These parables accord with a more modern version of Hell, in which psychology replaces fire and brimstone as a metaphor for its torments. I think of C.S. Lewis, who wrote “It’s not a question of God ‘sending’ us to Hell. In each of us there is something growing up which will of itself be Hell unless it is nipped in the bud.”
Some have objected to this idea, as it underplays the justice and retribution aspects of Divine punishment. In Lewis’ view, and that of “The Good Place”, Hell is as much a self-inflicted torment as it is divinely appointed punishment.
However, does it need to be “either / or”? Might it not rather be both?
Quite by chance today I heard an interesting juxtaposition of two beautiful pieces of music. One, the haunting “When David Heard” by Thomas Tompkins, recalls the moment when Israel’s King David learns of the death of his son Absalom, killed as he was leading a rebellion against his own father. David, though spared, nevertheless cries out in agony, “O Absalom, my son! Would God I had died for thee.”
The other piece of music was an organ work by Johann Sebastian Bach, his Passacaglia and Fugue In C minor. The passacaglia was a Spanish dance form elevated to major effect by the Baroque master. This particular piece consists of a theme and 20 variations (or 21 variations comprising 7 sets of three, per French organist Marie-Claire Alain; this is a point of debate). The theme and variations—the Passacaglia— are then followed by a fugue upon the opening theme.
Though wordless, it is thought that Bach was using musical symbolism to express his deep Christian faith. Disagreement exists on how exactly one should interpret the piece, but the cross of Jesus is generally seen in the pattens tumbling forth from the notes. For example, Australian organist David Rumsey noted the following regarding the dramatic “Neapolitan Sixth” that marks a major pause in the middle of the piece:
“By extension we may therefore deduce that the Neapolitan Sixth at the end of section four of the Passacaglia strongly suggests “crucifixion”. Applied specifically to the Passacaglia we see the relationship to the climax of the New Covenant: the sacrifice of the Messiah.” (David Rumsey, 1992. “THE SYMBOLS OF THE BACH PASSACAGLIA”. Accessed online at http://www.davidrumsey.ch/Passacaglia.pdf)
The meaning of the crucifixion for Christians is summarized by St. Paul: “For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.” (Romans 5:10)
The connection between these two stories that grabbed me was this. In the one instance the rebel died that the king may live. In the second instance, the King died that the rebel may live.
The power of God to make right what has been wrong is what we see, by faith, in the resurrection of Jesus Christ on the third day. Unless God is the one who raises the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist, there cannot be serious talk of forgiveness for the worst of the worst—the mass murderers, torturers, and serial killings—or even the least of the worst—the quotidian offenses against our common humanity that cause marriages to fail, friendships to end, enterprises to collapse, and silent misery to be the common lot of millions. “All for sin could not atone; thou must save, and thou alone.” This is what is happening on Golgotha.
(Fleming Rutlege, THE CRUCIFIXION: UNDERSTANDING THE DEATH OF JESUS CHRIST, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015)
I have been thinking about prayer lately. I know of a church that recently started a prayer group. This group gets together weekly to pray for the ministers and members of the congregation. The church is grateful to them.
Walk through one of our local hospitals and you’ll find ministers and laypeople of all varieties of Christian denominations, praying with and for the sick and dying. The recipients of such prayer are usually grateful.
But being prayed for is not always well received. In fact, in portions of the South the words “I’ll pray for you” (delivered with an air of condescension) can be a stinging insult—an odious assertion from one whose facade of perfection is intact, that yours is not.
Beyond this, though, some people are apparently triggered by well intended offerings of “thoughts and prayers” by ordinary people in the wake of tragedies, such as the depressingly frequent mass shootings that have taken place in schools and workplaces. A CNN article from 2018 describes How ‘thoughts and prayers’ went from common condolence to cynical meme”. Author A.J. Willingham tells us that “The phrase has gone from sincere to funny, but not in a ha-ha way.”
Today, in the wake of the tragic suicide of Jeremy Richman, father of Sandy Hook shooting victim Avielle Richman, an editorial in the Hartford Courant screams “Keep the thoughts and prayers and ban AR-15s instead”:
The mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons, wives, husbands and other family members whose lives have been broken by mass shootings don’t need thoughts and prayers. What they need — what we all need — is to get military-style assault weapons off our streets, out of our schools and out of our lives
Now, this is a disturbing sentiment, and I’ll explain my reaction to this momentarily. I’ll leave the gun control issue aside—You’ll find that Christians are on both sides of the gun control debate (I’m generally for stricter gun control laws).
Furthermore, I’ll acknowledge some merit to the idea that prayers should be accompanied by deeds. Christians agree with this. Jesus taught this (for example, in the “Parable of the Good Samaritan”). James wrote that “faith without works is dead”. We don’t just sit around in meditation booths and marinate in our own thoughts—that’s dead faith. Pope Francis, who is spiritual leader over no small number of Christians, is quoted as saying “Prayer that doesn’t lead to concrete action toward our brothers is a fruitless and incomplete prayer” … “prayer and action must always be profoundly united.” (Catholic News Agency)
So why do I find myself disturbed by the editorial rather than shouting “amen”? Well, in one headline an editor has managed to crassly politicize a personal tragedy, and also to insult a host of ordinary people who would like to express empathy and kindness. Even looking at only the “thoughts” side of this maligned phrase, as Ben Rowan notes in The Atlantic:
For those that aren’t religious and do not pray, according to Ladd, the first half of “thoughts and prayers” offers a secularized alternative—much like “happy holidays” is to “merry Christmas.” It allows participation in the same communal ritual, which can compel a sense of social cohesion.
Essentially the sentiment “Keep your thoughts to yourself” comes across to me as “share my political beliefs or F*€k off.” Kindness itself is being assaulted here. Kindness which is offered to others indiscriminately allows for connection beyond the differences of religion and other barriers, and is a stitch in the fabric of society. Eliminate such small scale kindness and empathy and we move one step closer to disintegration.
On the topic of prayer, it should be recognized that this Hartford Courant editorial is not a Christian critique inviting Christians to reflect on the need to back prayer with action. This is rather a cynical and secular critique that sees prayer as inaction. The assumption appears to be that prayer is not needed because it is ineffective. It is a self gratifying form of meditation at best, a mere murmuring into the void, since no one is on the other end actually listening to prayers. To the hordes of people who believe in God and the power of prayer, this kind of message comes across as a slap, a repudiation of their beliefs; it sounds like, “if you are the sort who prays, then get lost; we don’t need your kind.”
However, Christians pray not out of timidity in the face of existential emptiness, nor out of guilt, nor as a weapon of oppression against nonbelievers. We pray because we are commanded to do so, by none other than Jesus himself. Not praying is not an option for us. We are furthermore told that despite all the mysteries surrounding prayer, it actually works. “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much” says James 5:16.
So to my fellow Christians I would say “pray on.” Do couple prayer with appropriate actions—God could do it all, but for reasons that are mysterious, God often chooses us to be the instruments of Divine mercy and aid. Even pray for those who see themselves as your enemy, for those who irrationally hate you for not being progressive enough, and who tell you to “keep your prayers”; for as Jesus said, in his famous Sermon on the Mount:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.(Matthew 5:43-44)
To those who receive these expressions of “thoughts and prayers” in the midst of tragedy, I would encourage you to try to accept the sentiment with some grace and forebearance, and try to love those whom you see as enemies. I would ask you to see these particular words as at the very least an expression of empathy and common humanity. At most, they are an earnest attempt by Christians to actually do something.
(Note: Scripture references are from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version).
I am still processing my emotions after binge-watching the Netflix series “The Haunting of Hill House.” As with most shows and movies produced lately, this tale is nearly devoid of any traces of Christianity, so I recommend it mainly as creepy fun for Halloween—the media equivalent of visiting a haunted house attraction. Yet I think it transcends the horror genre a bit more than most haunted house movies.
“The Haunting of Hill House” is as much a psychological tale of dysfunctional relationships as it is a supernatural tale of ghosts. It is also a good specimen of the classic gothic literary genre, like Edgar Allen Poe’s Fall of the House of Usher—classier and spookier than many of the more comically outrageous special effects-laden haunted house movies out there (in which I include the 1999 movie “The Haunting”, inspired by the same Shirley Jackson source novel)
I therefore have mostly praise for this series. Solid acting and writing effectively establish an atmosphere of sadness and foreboding, as the Crain family’s present day struggles are set against a tragic backstory that is slowly revealed. Along the way it achieves moments of creepiness that I have scarcely seen since “The Sixth Sense.” While not above an occasional jump scare, the show’s spookiness is mostly earned through more subtle storytelling.
I’ve seen mixed reviews of the final episode. Some praised it for wrapping up the story lines and revealing the mysteries in an emotionally satisfying way. Others raged that it offered a “cheap” happy ending, slapping on a saccharine finish that betrayed the dark depths to which the story had previously gone. (One contemplated version of the ending had the Crain family remaining trapped in Hill House forever). Much as I sometimes enjoy an art house movie with a grim ending, in this case I am glad they opted for the former. The father’s sacrifice to save his children was dark enough for me, and tugged at my own feelings as a parent who loves his children deeply. Few movies bring tears, but Hugh’s final scene pulled some out of me. I would have been disappointed if he had died in vain.
Reviewing this story from a theological perspective, of course, Hugh’s sacrifice has a lot of resonance. His character was certainly not a perfect Christ figure: Hugh was guilty of willful blindness early on, and he was emotionally unavailable to his children later. I’ve rarely seen a more muted and tortured character than the quiet mumbling man who showed up for Nell’s funeral. But at the end, he showed some redemptive mettle. He put his family first, to the point of being consumed by a sacrificial death that allowed them to live.
The seductive nature of evil is another theme, especially in the last episode. Evil offers a false echo of goodness that promises to assuage some deep hurt or satisfy a craving, but this proves illusory. The mirage dissolves, and evil instead devours its prey.
Finally, the way in which a life can be “haunted” by past mistakes was portrayed compellingly. “Guilt and fear are sisters,” Nell’s apparition tells her family near the end. The final sequences of dreams play on these powerful “demons” in the lives of Steve, Shirley, and Theo, and demonstrate how these forces have dragged down and “haunted” each of the characters, more so than the actual ghosts of Hill House.
See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction…Choose life!” (Deuteronomy 30).
Sometimes the worst thing that can happen to a human is to be given exactly what he or she wants. In fact, this may at the heart of what is meant by “Hell”. It is the curse of God turning away, and allowing the darkened soul to banish itself to a self-sought outer darkness.
An unencumbered pursuit of transient pleasures yields devastating and self destructive results. The risks taken become ever higher and the rewards ever more elusive. Relationships are destroyed, with bonds of friendship and familial affection severed, often to be replaced by the human equivalent of parasites, or else by abject loneliness.
This kind of curse is what happened to a West Virginia construction contractor named Jack Whittaker, who in 2002 had the misfortune to win the largest powerball payout to date. In the words of Misty, an employee of a strip club called “The Pink Pony”:
Over the months, the once-dapper Jack grew slovenly, Misty says: “He would come in a sloppy shirt, all wrinkled. His hat would be dirty. He’d be unshaven.” And he became demanding. “At first he was, like: ‘I’m Jack Whittaker. I won all this money, yay for me,'” Misty says. “Later it was, like: ‘I’m Jack Whittaker. You’ll do what I say . . . I have more money than God.’ Who talks like that?
“It was like the money was eating away at whatever was good in him,” Misty says. “It reminds me, like, ‘Lord of the Rings,’ how that little guy — what’s his name? Gollum? — was with his Precious. It just consumes you. You become the money. You are no longer a person.”
Jack had helped out a waitress named Brenda, whose life similarly unraveled when others discovered she had received some of the money:
Heartsick, Brenda sold the house that Jack bought and moved away. “I probably would have rejected the money in the first place if I’d known then what I know now,” she says. “It seems like money brings out the ugly in people.
The money also allowed Whittaker’s granddaughter and several young people in her orbit to spin out of control on drugs, resulting in petty crimes, and two tragic deaths from overdose. One member of this circle, Josh Smith, got spooked by what was going on, and pulled away, noting that the effect of money on friendship was “it turns it to hell”:
”I turned into a different person…I had so much money, it turned me cold-hearted.”
The entire heart-wrenching account seems like something out of a tawdry novel. You can read the fascinating tale at Washington Post.