Dear Partner in Ministry,
On a Sunday in 2136, someone worshipping at GPC will ask, “why do we play the wind chimes before the worship service starts?” One of the longer time members, born in 2070, overhearing the question will answer: “it’s a sacred tradition that signifies the presence of the Holy Spirit as we begin our worship.” One of the members of the Heritage Committee will then go and look up this article and read this true story:
In October of 2018, Henrique Carvalho, newly hired as our baritone section leader, noticed a set of orchestral wind chimes sitting on the file cabinets at the entrance of the choir loft. He asked if he could play them before the service. I said “sure.” The next week, he asked again. The week after that, he simply did it, and something that had been an experiment became a ritual.
It’s probably how most of liturgy through time was born. We tend to receive our worship practices as if they arrived fully formed, handed down from some authoritative source, and in a sense they were. Trace any of those practices back far enough though, and you find a moment just like Henrique noticing the wind chimes. Someone tried something. It resonated. They tried it again. Over time, “we do this” became “we have always done this.”
The word “liturgy” comes from the Greek leitourgia, meaning: service for the people. It’s for us, but as of the Reformation, it’s also by us and we shape it by showing up and participating. A few Sundays after starting the pre-service chiming, Henrique came to me before he played. “Mark, what’s the vibe of today?” I don’t remember what I said that first time, but my weekly answers came to sound something like: “We just started Lent, which is a penitential season, but it’s a really beautiful, sunny morning and everyone is smiling, so let that balance the penitence.” His brow would furrow in thought as he considered my prompt. Then he’d nod, walk to the chimes, and play. I swear, most Sundays I could hear something of what I’d said in those chimes.
This summer, Henrique is moving away, and we will miss him. The tradition he started will continue, because you, the congregation, have already made it your own. There’s a calm, and readiness for worship that descends after the chimes are played. I can feel it in the room. Liturgy outlasts its originators.
Mark
