That which we have heard and known…

My church has a Thursday evening liturgy and meal, called Sandbox Worship.

We’ve done various things with the Sandbox, liturgically, over the years. About five weeks ago, we started doing a basic, simple Evening Prayer with Vespers pattern.

We chant an ancient hymn to Christ our Light, and light some candles. We use short versions of the Psalm and a reading from the Daily Office lectionary. We sing some things and speak some things, and pass around being the lead voice. It takes about twenty minutes.

Then we spend about half an hour in some kind of shared reflection or activity; then we eat dinner together.

As far as I know, there hasn’t been any regular practice of Evening Prayer at St. Dunstan’s for at least a decade. One hope I had was that a short, participatory, repetitive rite, using the same prayers and canticles for a season, would plant them in the minds and hearts of the adults and kids (always at least four) who come to Sandbox regularly.

I used the BCP and the St. Helena Breviary as primary sources. For the past five weeks, we’ve been using a canticle based on Jeremiah 31:10–13, spoken back and forth between leader and group.

Last night, my 8-year-old daughter and I were exchanging bedtime prayers. She prayed a prayer we often use: “May God be the gardener of your body, mind, and spirit…” and then she said, “Their lives will be like a lush garden, and they will grieve no more. I Myself will comfort them.”

Straight out of Jeremiah 31. So — I guess it’s working.

In many ways this anecdote sounds like a dozen articles I’ve read about how we should just be doubling down on our received rites and texts, instead of asking for something more or something different. And it’s clear that that’s working well in some settings — where by “working well,” I mean: drawing worshippers closer to God and one another, and forming us as the people of God, including children and those new to our way of faith.

However, the experience of my daughter and the other Sandbox kids is significantly different from the experience they would have if we were doing BCP Evening Prayer.

We improvise our chants, instead of finding the S section in the Hymnal. We wonder out loud what the Scriptures mean. We ask for readers as we go along and welcome every voice, instead of having a rota of qualified volunteers.

Some of us prefer to sit on the floor. Notably, none of us are coloring — which tells me that what we are doing is short enough and engaging enough that the most boredom-prone among us (not only those aged ten and under) are able to stay present for the whole liturgy.

I’m not writing about this to say, Everyone should try what we’re doing! I believe liturgy is deeply contextual. All I can say is that this is working well for us, right now (where by “working well” I mean, etc.).

I’m writing about this because in many ways, my daughter internalizing that Jeremiah text from our Sandbox Vespers is an icon of what I hope for, from liturgical renewal.

The things we are saying and singing are not new: the Phos hilaron, Psalms and canticles from Scripture and ancient Christian writings, the Lord’s Prayer, the Suffrages, the Nunc Dimittis. But we are making them available in a new way, opening the door into receiving the blessing of these texts and prayers and songs for people — kids and adults — who did not know them before.

Our Sandbox Vespers would not pass muster with many clergy I know. But if you say, “Let not the needy, O God, be forgotten,” to my second grader, she knows that the answer is, “Nor the hope of the poor be taken away.”

That which we have heard and known, we will not hide from our children. (Psalm 78)

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