April 12th, 2012
by Mary Oliver
Last night
in the fields
I lay down in the darkness
to think about death,
but instead I fell asleep,
as if in a vast and sloping room
filled with those white flowers
that open all summer,
sticky and untidy,
in the warm fields.
When I woke
the morning light was just slipping
in front of the stars,
and I was covered
with blossoms.
I don’t know
how it happened—
I don’t know
if my body went diving down
under the sugary vines
in some sleep-sharpened affinity
with the depths, or whether
that green energy
rose like a wave
and curled over me, claiming me
in its husky arms.
I pushed them away, but I didn’t rise.
Never in my life had I felt so plush,
or so slippery,
or so resplendently empty.
Never in my life
had I felt myself so near
that porous line
where my own body was done with
and the roots and the stems and the flowers
began.
-Read at the Great Vigil of Easter on April 7. 2012 at St. Lydia’s
April 12th, 2012
V. What the Thunder Said
After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water
-Read on Good Friday, April 6, 2012 at St. Lydia’s
April 10th, 2012
Read Emily’s latest sermon, “Looking for Corpses,” on her blog, Sit and Eat. This sermon was preached on the Easter Vigil, 2012, as part of our exploration of the Gospel of John. The text is John 20:1-18.
April 5th, 2012
Squeezebox is a place for our Song Leaders, as well as congregants, to learn the songs we sing at St. Lydia’s.
During the season of Easter, Advent, and Christmas, we sing a special setting of our Eucharistic Prayer, with festive acclamations of “Glory to you forever and ever!” peppered throughout. The setting was written by Paul Vasile for our Easter Vigil in 2011. Click to listen to the Festive Table Acclamation.
April 5th, 2012
Squeezebox is a place for our Song Leaders, as well as congregants, to learn the songs we sing at St. Lydia’s.
We’ll be singing this Alleluia, drawn from the St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church hymnal, “Music For Liturgy,” and entitled Kovalyevsky Kiev Chant, during the season of Easter as our Gathering Song.
Click to listen to a recording of the Kiev Alleluia, and take a look at the sheet music here. We’ll sing the melody, found on the top line, but will be improvising the other harmony lines.
Please note that the pronunciation of the word “Alleluia” is a bit different in this Ukrainian song — A-le-lu-ee-a!
April 5th, 2012
Squeezebox is a place for our Song Leaders, as well as congregants, to learn the songs we sing at St. Lydia’s.
“Now the Green Blade Rises” will be our closing hymn during the first few weeks of Easter (the month of April.) I’m a fan of this pretty version on the guitar, but we’ll sing it a bit more briskly, like this, but with a little more dance to it! Click here to see the music.
April 5th, 2012
Squeezebox is a place for our Song Leaders, as well as congregants, to learn the songs we sing at St. Lydia’s.
“Christ is Alive” will be our closing hymn during the second half of the Easter Season, during the month of April. Click here to listen to the hymn, and here to see the music.
April 5th, 2012
by Richard Chess
Called into
the arms of history, arms
that embrace, arms that steady, arms
that secure and crush, called at night, called by
a reed but they were uncertain what the reed
was calling them to, called by blood and bone
of a lamb, but they were unsure of what the stain
of blood and weight of bone were calling them to.
The sea of history parted once for them to pass through.
The story of freedom cleared a path for them
and they walked it, they shuffled, limped, dragged
or skipped through it. Once they were invited
but they hesitated, some hesitated,
like you, my son, invited now
to come into the arms of your history, the long
page of which will be recited tonight, here
on the far shore of the sea of their crossing
into history, here where I invite you to be embraced
by the story, to be strengthened by it, to sing it
with your blood and strong bone.
–Read at St. Lydia’s on April 1, 2012
April 2nd, 2012
Read Emily’s latest sermon, “Ripeness and Rot,” on her blog, Sit and Eat. The text is John 12:20-25. This sermon was preached as part of St. Lydia’s exploration of the Gospel of John.
March 27th, 2012
Read Emily’s latest sermon, “Pruning,” on her blog, Sit and Eat. The text is John 15:1-9, “I am the true vine.”
