The Spirit did not disappoint. Were there observable tongues of fire or speaking in foreign languages? No, but our worship was particularly Spirit-filled, and whether plausibly-deniable things happen, or whether the Spirit is working more interiorly, how could we capture the experience in words, either way?
The choir chanted the Veni Sancte Spiritus sequence, and I was thankful to have spent time chewing on the Latin and getting the tune in my head so I could sing wholeheartedly and know what I was even saying. We collaborate with the Spirit when we follow due diligence in preparation.
And we finally nailed Regina Caeli; a unity of jubilant voices, clean entrances, and flute and violin to boot! Rejoicing with Mary at the resurrection of her son! Since when was I able to enter into a song of beauty and Joy?! Since Easter!
But Eucharist. I was taken up in God’s transcendence and imminence, perfection and mercy; the all-powerful, all-benevolent creator of the universe sent Eir Son to be murdered by wretched traitors, adulteresses. At Every Mass he offers us his Very Flesh and Blood. As I prayed, I would momentarily wonder if my posture was weird, but came each time to embrace it as an expression of my spirit: melting toward God, fingers pointing to heaven. I prayed to not fear what others think. To just yield to the Spirit, Fiat. In Jesus’ Presence, I worshipped with the stream of praise that behaves like others’ prayer languages, but in English, and then there rose up in me a new prayer: “Send me.” Hard stop. That was new.
And after the Agnus Dei, still standing, eyes closed, it felt like my head was floating off my body, taken over by an all-consuming bliss, heart burning, transverberation? I wondered, was I levitating? My eyelids fluttered like when Fr. Matthias prayed for me in the Vendor Hall at the Lansing Center, and if there weren’t more to sing, if someone had been there to catch me, I would’ve gone down again.
Instead we launched right into Like As The Hart at the beginning of distribution; I thought Yes. Sing this Before we receive. That song has those blessed sections where I’m not singing and can just dive in. We sang beautifully. At the end, I had to tear myself away from the reverberations to fly down the steps as reverently as possible to receive (fractionated <3) Christ directly from Father’s hand. I have taken to chewing the Host, in line with the “gnawing” of John 6 and as an incarnation of my desire. The sooner I can swallow, the sooner I can be transformed!
I (reverently) hustle back up to the loft, that landing halfway up still being a precious point of thanksgiving and intimacy, and melded right into the hymn, a mere line in. Given the intensity of previous singing and rapidity of ground covered, I miraculously sustained every full-throated phrase.
Of course we closed with “O God Beyond All Praising”. Have I ever sung that song without choking up?! The congregation applauded. That is indeed rare, and is a welcome response of worship, that we musicians can have a sense that the congregation was drawn up by our offering.
When I then sat down, sighed, and proceeded to drop sideways onto the pew, my skull resounding a solid clunk, I heard other choir members assenting their reaction. I rested a moment, and as I rose and looked at them, I saw them reflecting illumination.
This was only a shred of the first Pentecost, and in the same way, words are only a shadow.
Come, Holy Spirit!
The choir chanted the Veni Sancte Spiritus sequence, and I was thankful to have spent time chewing on the Latin and getting the tune in my head so I could sing wholeheartedly and know what I was even saying. We collaborate with the Spirit when we follow due diligence in preparation.
And we finally nailed Regina Caeli; a unity of jubilant voices, clean entrances, and flute and violin to boot! Rejoicing with Mary at the resurrection of her son! Since when was I able to enter into a song of beauty and Joy?! Since Easter!
But Eucharist. I was taken up in God’s transcendence and imminence, perfection and mercy; the all-powerful, all-benevolent creator of the universe sent Eir Son to be murdered by wretched traitors, adulteresses. At Every Mass he offers us his Very Flesh and Blood. As I prayed, I would momentarily wonder if my posture was weird, but came each time to embrace it as an expression of my spirit: melting toward God, fingers pointing to heaven. I prayed to not fear what others think. To just yield to the Spirit, Fiat. In Jesus’ Presence, I worshipped with the stream of praise that behaves like others’ prayer languages, but in English, and then there rose up in me a new prayer: “Send me.” Hard stop. That was new.
And after the Agnus Dei, still standing, eyes closed, it felt like my head was floating off my body, taken over by an all-consuming bliss, heart burning, transverberation? I wondered, was I levitating? My eyelids fluttered like when Fr. Matthias prayed for me in the Vendor Hall at the Lansing Center, and if there weren’t more to sing, if someone had been there to catch me, I would’ve gone down again.
Instead we launched right into Like As The Hart at the beginning of distribution; I thought Yes. Sing this Before we receive. That song has those blessed sections where I’m not singing and can just dive in. We sang beautifully. At the end, I had to tear myself away from the reverberations to fly down the steps as reverently as possible to receive (fractionated <3) Christ directly from Father’s hand. I have taken to chewing the Host, in line with the “gnawing” of John 6 and as an incarnation of my desire. The sooner I can swallow, the sooner I can be transformed!
I (reverently) hustle back up to the loft, that landing halfway up still being a precious point of thanksgiving and intimacy, and melded right into the hymn, a mere line in. Given the intensity of previous singing and rapidity of ground covered, I miraculously sustained every full-throated phrase.
Of course we closed with “O God Beyond All Praising”. Have I ever sung that song without choking up?! The congregation applauded. That is indeed rare, and is a welcome response of worship, that we musicians can have a sense that the congregation was drawn up by our offering.
When I then sat down, sighed, and proceeded to drop sideways onto the pew, my skull resounding a solid clunk, I heard other choir members assenting their reaction. I rested a moment, and as I rose and looked at them, I saw them reflecting illumination.
This was only a shred of the first Pentecost, and in the same way, words are only a shadow.
Come, Holy Spirit!
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