Winter Issue 10

Shekinah glory doesn’t just shine anywhere. Rachel Hart

Making Friends With a Hymnal

In which the author attempts to normalize her great love for religious poetry, history, collections of hymns, &c., and argue for their character as the perfect confluence of church history and making friends through books—while social distancing.

By Abigail Stocker

All the friends I’ve made in church history, I made through my hymnal.

That’s an overstatement, of course—but it isn’t overstatement to say my church history courses at Regent brought my hymnal to life. I was raised on the green Lutheran Book of Worship, and I still think of its hymns and liturgies as my native worship language. My long friendship with my hymnal has revealed church history’s deep and lively relevance for my own life and faith.

I’m not here to talk about the so-called worship wars or to shame non-liturgical traditions. (We should all learn from each other and can enjoy multiple styles of worship music.) I’m actually here to make a case not just for hymns, but hymnals—for learning to read a hymnal to find and befriend our historical brothers and sisters in Christ.

Lots of hymnals—the more recent ones, at least—include hymns from a diversity of times and places. Because of this, my hymnal has given me a place to locate people in church history besides church history class. Instead, I can see them as fellow worshippers of God. When I learned about Saint Francis of Assisi in History 501, he was not primarily some pious medieval guy, but the author of “All Creatures of Our God and King.” Every time I sing that hymn now, I’m worshipping alongside Francis. I love knowing his story as I sing, but I also love that we had something in common before I had to memorize facts about his life.

My hymnal has also helped me think through and experience theology with more nuance. For instance, just recently in Women’s Theological Writing, we read hymns by Anne Steele. I had never noticed her hymns before, but her “Father of Mercies, in Your Word” is included in my hymnal. It’s in the section on “The Word,” and while Scripture is a key theme of the hymn, knowing her story gives me insight into how suffering and personal frailty might overlap with meditating on Scripture as a gift from God.

By experiencing these authors through their sung poetry, I have realized points where my life and theirs overlap as I worship alongside believers throughout history, using their words and songs. (Some, ahem, are not to my musical liking. Some tunes? Downright strange. What can I say? Be patient with others and yourself—there is diversity in the body of Christ.)

So I’d argue that we should all make friends with a hymnal. There’s a selection in the library, and often a few are on the used book sale shelf. Until such time as we can return to the library, Hymnary.org has more digitized hymnals than you’ll likely need in a single lifetime.

But what if you didn’t grow up with a hymnal? Can you really develop as good a friendship?

Maybe, maybe not, but all the same I’d encourage you to see hymnals as your friends. Here are some ideas to help you get acquainted:

Start by finding a hymnal from your church tradition/denomination. Get to know your tradition’s favorite hymns and liturgies. If you branch out to hymnals from other traditions, you’ll learn to recognize the various emphases they all have—as well as their glaring omissions. (I kid you not, I first heard Charles Wesley’s “And Can It Be” in undergrad.)
Locate your own favorite Scripture passages or themes. Many hymnals are organized by theme and note the Scripture that inspired each hymn (or have an index of the references). If you’re pondering a particular idea or Bible verse, look it up in your hymnal to see how historical Christians have interacted with that idea or verse in song.
When you learn about new historical figures or theological ideas, look them up in your hymnal. Note if the hymn was translated and the date and source of the tune. Try playing it, if you’re musical—or look it up online (many have been set to fresh tunes). Read and pray the words.

Over time, you might be surprised to find the hymnal change from a musty tome to one filled with friends. Hymnals bring us the voices of the church throughout history, in our own language, without textual notes or papers to be written afterward. They encourage us to slow down and dwell with the historical church, even if only for a few minutes while singing. Yet even in that act, we participate in the activity that we all have in common across history: worshipping God.

This week, “This Is My Father’s World” has been speaking to me through the ups and downs: “But though the wrong / be oft so strong / God is the ruler yet.” As has Anne Steele: “No, still the ear of sovereign grace / attends the mourner’s prayer; / Oh, may I ever find access, / to breathe my sorrows there.” As we are all separated from our church communities, families, and friends in this strange season where loving each other means not gathering for worship, I suggest that we make friends with Christians throughout history who have shared similar struggles and joys—and that a hymnal, collecting their voices, is a good companion in itself.

La Corona (II)

By John Donne (1572-1631)

This sequence of seven sonnets by John Donne on the life of Christ was sent to Mrs. Magdalen Herbert (the mother of poet-priest George Herbert) in July 1607. Each sonnet is linked by their first and last lines, and the last line of the last sonnet brings us back to the first line of the first sonnet, creating an unbroken circular pattern. ‘Corona’ in Latin means ‘crown’ or ‘wreath’. See Winter Issue 9 for the first two sonnets.

III. Nativity
Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-beloved imprisonment.
There he hath made himself to his intent
Weak enough, now into our world to come.
But O ! for thee, for Him, hath th' inn no room ?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from th' orient,
Stars, and wise men will travel to prevent
The effects of Herod's jealous general doom.
See'st thou, my soul, with thy faith's eye, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie ?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee ?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

IV. Temple
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe,
Joseph, turn back ; see where your child doth sit,
Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which Himself on the doctors did bestow.
The Word but lately could not speak, and lo !
It suddenly speaks wonders ; whence comes it,
That all which was, and all which should be writ,
A shallow seeming child should deeply know ?
His Godhead was not soul to His manhood,
Nor had time mellow'd Him to this ripeness ;
But as for one which hath a long task, 'tis good,
With the sun to begin His business,
He in His age's morning thus began,
By miracles exceeding power of man.

Hospitality in the Time of COVID-19

By Aubrianna Pennington

With all of the changes that came so suddenly upon the Regent community, it is tempting for me to look out into the world through my computer screen and see a strange alien vista. After days of seeking out normalcy and avoiding my fears, I found myself lying on the floor in the time-honored tradition of being overwhelmed. ‘People’ both in the abstract and in an I-want-my-mom kind of particularity felt so far away. In the last week, however, I have tried to wrangle myself into a posture of gratitude and hospitality. I want to believe that particular people and people in general are still close to me in some real way. Hospitality is many things, but it is primarily about making the stranger into a friend.

In past times of loneliness and panic in my life, I have been encouraged by contemplating unity within the body of Christ. Ignatius of Antioch once wrote, "Everyone must work together in unison at this training of ours; comrades in its wrestling and racing, comrades in its aches and pains, comrades in its resting and in its rising, like God’s good stewards and coadjutors and assistants." Despite social isolation, I have witnessed the Regent community work together in unison. We are comrades in resting and in rising, comrades in work and in play. Bruce Hindmarsh frequently remarks that studying is a spiritual discipline, and though we are not physically together, this is still a discipline that we practice in unison. As unmotivated as I have been, I am still part of a community that studies… and laughs and creates and prays together. Only now, I can sit in any of my classmates’ living rooms. I can meet their children, spouses, or pets, giggle at technical malfunctions, and pass secret notes while the teacher isn’t looking. This has been a unique time for me to truly orient myself to viewing the stranger as a friend.

It hurts for me to be apart from so many people when my natural inclination is to come near. There is an immediacy of being physically present with a person as you chat, smile, or hug as if to say, “You belong here with me.” This inclination affirms who are we are as image-bearers created by God. It affirms that society was meant to reflect the Triune community of love. Bonhoeffer made much of the idea that Christian community was a "spiritual and not a psychic reality.” As impossible as it might seem to practice hospitality at a distance, we are a part of a spiritual reality that turns a stranger into my friend. We are already doing more than we think.

For anyone else in search of distance-appropriate hospitality – please make sure to join a variety of Regent students in all manner of kitchens for Virtual Gathering Table! Look for details in your announcements email or on the student community Facebook page.

The Zoom ID for the recurring Virtual Gathering Table is here: 922 762 815

Field Trip

By Blythe Kingcroft

For D.H.

On Sundays, Dad made waffles.

Each one poured like a ribbon of Easter-yellow silk.

He grew up on a farm, took goats to fairs for prizes,

became an archaeologist who cooked dinner

for his daughter.

When his mother died on Canada Day

he was at a slo-pitch tournament in Nanaimo.

He lobbed the ball, his eleven-year-old watching

from the stands. Later on, perhaps to comfort her,

he told a room of grieving people

how he imagined his mom’s death:

Betty Hutchcroft rose from her body to mingle with the

fireworks, those flares of red-and-white-and-Grandma.

On Sundays, he served each waffle hot.

His daughter ate them quickly, no polite wait.

Just shoved a slice of butter in each square,

watched it drown in maple syrup—look! a capsized boat.

When she was born, he was the first to hold

her 8-lb. frame. She didn’t cry, so they didn’t

name her Aiden, which means fiery.

He has lived on Quadra Street for thirty-three years,

in the same blue-then-green house. Its walls a ribcage,

holding all his once-cooked meals: shake-n-bake chicken

with a side of broccoli steam, quiche crust cooling

beneath small, ceramic beads. He’ll never forgive

the decades for the way they forced themselves.

Now he is retired. Does Sudoku, sorts comic books.

Busies himself with email, re-runs of Buffy on PVR.

His puttering holds him like a shadow. His goodness is quiet,

like his TV in the morning, and he is sometimes happy.

Like when a city pool catches summer, and he remembers

swimming lessons with his sister, how he learned

to use his arms and legs in that glittering chlorine.

This poem is from Blythe Kingcroft's IPIAT chapbook, "Lapis Lazuli" (2020). Blythe's poems playfully explore the colour blue, Augustinian language theory, and sacramental theology.

covid / wk 1

Anonymous

The sun labors on

– an unwavering heat –

To bury this invisible

Burden

Like dirt over a coffin

Or better yet

The weight of the

Water

You swam in

– was it just last Wednesday? –

Before the Great Distance

Overwhelmed

Our Closeness.

You are the same

3,179 miles 47 hours away

That you were

Before

But what is distance

When the only direction

We’re told to go is

Down

Into the

Deepest creases

Of our faded

Beliefs –

Dear God

Are you buried too

Beneath the

Distance?

Why aren’t we dancing?

By Judith Gebbe

Why aren’t we dancing?

I ask you

and you look at me with wonder.

Can’t you see it?

The whole world is dancing

but we are standing still!

Branches of old cedar trees

waving to the rhythm of the wind.

Little pebbles

rolling up and down the beach;

Creating the sound of tripling toes

as the water comes and goes.

Rays of sunlight

hitting the surface of a wild river stream

leaving a thousand sparkling stars of sunshine

right at your feet.

I feel like dancing,

I tell you,

but you are standing still.

So, I spread my arms wide open

Like branches of an old cedar tree

and start spinning

Until I feel the wind surrounding me.

And I walk down to those little pebbles

Take my shoes off at the beach.

And start playing with the waves

As if there were a part of me.

And I look up to the sky

Let the sunlight touch my face

And think of all the thousand starts of sunshine

sparkling inside of me.

And then I dance.

I dance as if this was the only thing I know.

I dance to the song of creation.

Joining the movement of life with a heart full of joy

and a soul of thanksgiving

Do You believe in grace?

I look at you again.

And I see you standing there

in that open space

And I wonder,

Will you dance with me now?

Double Cross

By Embolus

Cryptic Clues

Across:

1. Lunch urchin consumed for assembly (6)

5. Excited naked Basque removed ban and made happy noise (8)

9. Scandinavian idiot embraced left (4)

10. Bin Laden at first Arabic reconstruction of different Semitic school (10)

11. I chat cool man right up in papal tradition (5,8)

13. Farewell to French deity (5)

14. Orchestration of note meant deep harmony (9)

16. Quiet folk strip past dressing up (9)

18 & 20 Sanctified facebook wall? (11)

21. Magic hex took Rodger straight to Athenians (5,8)

23. Ruffled shirts I can iron out for faithful (10)

24. Skied, but I lost place on table (4)

25. Any diary reserves an occasion to spoil oneself (5-3)

26. Great pace, but direst play (6)

Down:

2. Ten Commandments for those in the clergy? (4,6)

3. Eastern farmer ploughed surround again (7)

4. A chore for a poet (6)

5. By deputation U-boats try to contain a tuition fiasco (15)

6. I scorn United Nations gathering as a flight of fancy? (8)

7. Worship of ubiquitous deities in American I mismanaged (7)

8. Test yesterday morning? (4)

12. Country club suggested, but not recommended (10)

15. Ted cried uncontrollably when GPS tracker spoke (8)

17. Iranian Revolution is near perfect initially (7)

19. Cowherd deployed to make soup (7)

20. See 18A

22. Denomination of most 17s in lash I administered (4)

Non-Cryptic Clues:

Across:

1. Place of worship (6)

5. Made murine noises (8)

9. Norwegian name (4)

10. Jewish scholastic (10)

11. Vatican’s denomination (5,8)

13. French farewell (5)

14. Reconciliation (9)

16. Silent monks (9)

18 & 20 Ecclesiastical screen (11)

21. Constantinople’s denomination (5,8)

23. Followers of Jesus (10)

24. Writing table (4)

25. When Noah entered the ark? (5-3)

26. Walk with long steps (6)

Down:

2. Deacons, priests and bishops (4,6)

3. Put into context again (7)

4. Latin poet (6)

5. By replacement (15)

6. Flying horses (8)

7. Worship gods in everything (7)

8. Test (4)

12. Not recommended (10)

15. Told where to go (8)

17. Iranian (7)

19. Seafood soup (7)

20. See 18A

22. Muslim denomination (4)

RCSAMarch 31, 2020