Incorporating Individuals

Willette said to me on Thursday evening after prayer, "Thank you for this service. Now maybe I'll make it through the week." I must admit that I was a little surprised by the comment. Willette comes to EP rather often, so it is not as if she just happened by in a moment of spiritual necessity and found the requisite manna from heaven. She was thanking us for being present, for opening the church, and for leading the office. Her statement made me think, and still has me pondering. I wonder if it has not revealed some of my own myopia and even selfishness.

I wrote about presence in a post for the blog a long while ago. The essence of that piece was the importance of constancy and physical presence, day in, day out. But that piece also focused on how our presence for the office brought us in communion with the homeless, and how the constancy of that presence was the foundation for us all to be transformed through friendship with one another. In that vein I think we have come to stress the office in two main ways: (1) as a fundamental part of the day, as routine and necessary as brushing one's teeth, and (2) as a practice that, through its mere observance, will transform us in spite of ourselves as, for example, in bringing us in contact with the poor. These two emphases have, for me, become slightly pathological in that the emphasis seems to be on me. The office is something that I need to do, day in and day out (literally through MP and EP), and it is something that will transform me. What is lost in this pathology is the notion of liturgy as "work of the people" and the realization of the office as an extension of the Eucharist. It seems that I have found an encroachment of individualism even in the commitment to corporate worship.

Willette reminded me of this because I often lead the office with a rather perfunctory attitude (much as I might brush my teeth), sometimes even as a chore that needs be done. It's not a glorifying admission, but true. Willette comes, as I expect Shirley does too, in part to step into the Kingdom for a few minutes during the week and find refreshment. Willette has challenged me, albeit unintentionally, to see the office now also as part of the preparation of the altar for Sunday -- we are an altar guild of sorts. We gather morning and evening to bring the cares and anxieties of the world into the congregation, piling them upon the altar. On Sunday Christ's body will be broken, and with it the altar will be cleansed and renewed. We are, in a way, sanctifying this world by faithfully gathering its sins and bringing them to the altar. 

This is to say that while we are being transformed by stamping the time-card, by just being present, we are also making Christ's presence real during the week for all who need him -- not in the way that the priest makes Him present at Sunday mass, but as the priest has already made Him present and presented Him to us, forming us into the Body. The office is part of the preparation for Sunday, but equally it is part of Christ's presence to His people. It bears all the marks of the already and the not yet. 

It is worth bearing this in mind (even if this is mostly a self-referential meditation). When we gather during the week we are doing more than we know, making God present in the world. The presence we offer is not just to the guys but to Onye and Willette and Shirley and everyone else who is weary and heavy laden (myself included). We come to the office to be in the presence of God, to sit at the Trinitarian banquet, and so our participation in the office should bear all the care and attention with which we come to the Eucharist. For even as we seek sustenance, by doing so-- by seeking faithfully-- we also create a space in this world where the finding is possible for those around us. We say the office not just that we may find transformation but that we may offer it through our service, "always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies."

So, it should be no surprise to me that those who attend only episodically or even only once may be blessed by the office. The office is a liturgical reminder and enactment of Psalm 121, fulfilling the daily cycle: "The Lord shall watch over your going out and your coming in, from this time forth for evermore." The office is in part a sacramental sign of Christ's enduring faithfulness -- that He will be present and available bodily -- that "He who watches over you will not fall asleep."

Willette's statement should be no surprise, but I had lost sight of what we were doing.