Category Archives: Saints

Easter Sunday with the Spiritualists

Hubby and I attended church twice on Easter Sunday: in the morning with the pleasantly-Protestant Presbyterians and in the afternoon with the Church of Two Worlds (no website), a Spiritualist church in Georgetown.

Why the Spiritualists? Well, the church, though nearby, is an almost-unknown curiosity. Second, at one point, about half of the Universalist ministerial college believed in Spiritualism, so it would probably have some resonance. Third, we enjoyed our off-beat excursion to the Christian Scientists last Easter. Fourth, it’s been our experience, when seen honestly and fairly, that “oddball” churches usually don’t make wilder claims than mainline churches, just less familiar ones. After all, it’s not like I’m a Presbyerian either (though one of the ministers did wear bands.)

The congregation was about twenty, predominately African-American, but even at that size genuinely mixed and multi-national. This is how the service went:

  • Read in unison the nine Spiritualist principles (seen here, but Unitarian historians: note the principles for the UK Spiritualists’ National Union on the same page; look familar?) I abstained as a non-Spiritualist, but participated in all the rest of the service.
  • A guided meditation through the shakras, with deep breathing, for self-healing and the projection of healing energy to friends, family and enemies.
  • A lengthy lecture on a practical subject. Though it had many tangents, the sum was “to prepare for contact with the spirit world, you need to have a healthy physical body.” It was punctuated with four selections of popular, inspiring music, including Louis Armstong’s rendition of “What a Wonderful World”
  • We stretched, and an offering was collected
  • The two mediums received and shared messages. I got two.
    1. From St. Luke, offering support for “a medical issue”, counsel to heal myself, and advice to journal with plans to review my journal in a year’s time.
    2. From an unknown entity, who enjoined that I might find spiritual resources from the Hadisim, but perhaps not for many years.
  • After the messages, there was a simple, casual farewell.

I listened attentively and thanked them for their readings. And later realized these were among the most useful and memorable — certainly personal — take-aways I’ve gotten from any church in I can’t tell you how long. By contrast, I can’t tell you a single thing about the morning sermon.

There was a hymnal — more about that in a moment — but we didn’t sing from it. We did use it to find the affirmations and a concluding prayer after the chakra meditation, pasted in the inside covers. Each part of the service was well-described and directed. Though there was no printed order of service — I’m glad there wasn’t, or I might have left after the first hour — I was never lost and never unsure of how I was supposed to participate.

The small hymnal, had I not seen the cover, might have easily been either a Unitarian or Universalist hymnal from about a hundred years ago; certainly there were many of the same hymns, but also something of the same pluck and optimism. It makes me wonder if our real kin are in this direction, and not in the mainline, like the UCC. Or, perhaps had the Unitarians and Universalist not consolidated, one or both might have dwindled to a small (smaller? tiny?) denomination with an equally oddball reputation. (Did I say that out loud?) And while Spiritualist are pretty clear that they’re not Christians, they don’t suffer the same angst Unitarian Universalists do, which made it far more comfortable and welcoming then when UUs “do” Christianity on rotation.

In any case, I’m happy we went. Happy souls surrounded by happy souls, visible and invisible.

St. Nicholas was good

Ms. Theologian noted a story about an Oregon Washington man who put up a Santa crucifix in his yard, to protest the commercialization of Christmas. Great idea.

But rather than getting het up about Jesus getting left out, I feel for St. Nicholas, who has become a shill for shopping and saturated fat. The real man, a Christian bishop, is someone to celebrate and emulate. There was an op-ed in the New York Times on Christmas Day, from which comes:

And what of the throwing of the bags of gold down the chimney, where they landed in the stockings and little shoes that had been hung up to dry by the fireplace? Charming though it sounds, it reflected the deplorable custom, still prevalent in late Roman society when the Byzantine church was struggling to establish the supremacy of its values, of selling surplus daughters into bondage. This was a euphemism for sexual slavery — a trade that still blights our world.

Little wonder St. Nicholas is the patron of brides: a cloaked reference to women who escaped sex slavery. And there are other stories like this.

If you missed it, go back and read “St. Nick in the Big City” by John Anthony McGuckin.

I also wrote about St. Nicholas in 2005 and 2006.

Christmas commercialism early

I’m an odd one: when people mention St. Nicholas I first think of the defender of the faith with the feast on December 6.

It seems, his hometown has gone Coca-Commercial, and has moved their main square “religious” statue in lieu of one more fitting for a greeting card. The Germans like it; the Russians are horrified.

I’m with the Russians on this one.

“Turkish Town Exchanges St. Nick for Santa” Washington Post 23 March 2005

St. Patrick’s Breastplate

You can keep your corned beef (even though I had a Reuben for lunch) and your beer (who are we kidding?) but for St. Patrick’s Day, I’ll call up the St. Patrick’s Breastplate or Lorica, which “invokes God’s protection on a journey (either literal or the metaphorical ‘journey of life’) against all manner of evils, including ‘the spells of women and smiths and druids.’ It dates from the 8th century and is traditionally but incorrectly attributed to St. Patrick.” (Wikisource)

This translation is by Cecil Frances Humphreys Alexander from 1889, and is the form usually sung in churches. Read Irish? Wikisource has it.

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this today to me forever
By power of faith, Christ’s incarnation;
His baptism in Jordan river,
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spiced tomb,
His riding up the heavenly way,
His coming at the day of doom
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of cherubim;
The sweet ‘Well done’ in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors’ faith, Apostles’ word,
The Patriarchs’ prayers, the prophets’ scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the star lit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward;
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
By Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

(You knew I was a Trinitarian, right?)

Need more, or something more historical? How about the Confession of St. Patrick?

A spiritual home for the lamb

PeaceBang told a little story of a little lamb (“A lamb of the stage“) that swaps its future as dinner for the easy life on a farm. (Not that I’m opposed to eating a little lamb at Easter. Or a little goat. Both are delicious, and sometimes hard to tell apart.)

But when I read the sheeplet’s new name — Little Compton — I mistook the coastal retreat for the famous religious community, and now sometime spiritual retreat, Little Gidding. Founded by Nicholas Ferrar in 16 and lasting until the Commonwealth, it was a community of prayer and service to children. A prototypical Protestant “family monastery” it seems. Even after the community was broken up (courtesy the Puritans) the church it met in remained and still has worship a few times a year.

Alas, the parish website was taken over by a less than ecclesiastic entity, but it was made famous by a poem, excerpted below. Is part of it familiar?

Quick now, here, now, always–
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of things shall be well

From T.S. Eliot’s “Little Gidding” in the Four Quatrains.

Forget not the monuments . . .

The front page letter at Anglicans Online this week reminds us western Christians of our all-too-often unawareness of the dead who dwell in Light Eternal as the Church Triumphant.

We forget their presence in heaven, because we miss them on earth. How often do we regard the graves of the dead, even the dead we admire – hope to emulate – are bound as one in faith?

It makes me think about the fate of Universalist persons. A few of us have kept up with buildings (or building sites) that were once Universalist churches. Most are gone, and are devoid of a Universalist congregation. A few at least still have churches. (See here, and here, and here.)

But they are gone, with no need to lament, or at least no use. But I would like to be able to visit something that keeps us in touch with our past. You would think that with the current and past obsession about our terribly important forebears, we would make a habit of visiting their graves.

As it happens, I know of were very few notable Universalists are buried. Henry Noble Couden, “the blind chaplain” of the U.S. House, is buried in Arlington National Cemetary. Elhanan Winchester is buried somewhere in Hartford, Connecticut. John Murray and Hosea Ballou are at Auburn Cemetary near Boston. Judith Murray’s Mississippi burial-place is notewothy by its remoteness. I know of two Universalist graveyards in South Carolina, and one each in Georgia and Mississippi.

But what of the rest? Where are they? Leave a comment, please, and if you have a photograph, that would be nice, too.

Online article about Elhanan Winchester

I’m taking as much time as I can afford and going back to the roots. In the process, I found a good article about Elhanan Winchester, one of the more underappreciated ancestors of faith. What I like particularly is that the writer integrates the former’s American and London ministries.

Do note that a typo or other gremlin crept in: the South Carolina river mentioned in is “Pee Dee” not “Pec Dec”. (I believe the latter is some kind of exercise equipment.) Now if someone (not me) can integrate Winchester’s South Carolina ministry (some work has been done among Brethren historians) we would have a brief current working picture of Elhanan Winchester.

At the Meadville-Lombard Theological School website:

Elhanan Winchester, Junior: Fire for the Gospel, by David Johnson.