Explosive liturgy

[Merseysider]

Our Sunday Mass has had to be delayed by 30 mins from 11am to 11.30am this week.

A neighbouring block of flats is being blown-up at 11am so we won't be allowed into the church until the whole area is declared safe.

At the time we'd usually be singing our gathering song, we'll all be standing outside the church watching the explosion.

And I do feel we ought to sing something: I've thought of:
"Though the tower blocks may fall
and its bricks turn to dust
yet the love of the Lord will stand".

Any other suggestions?

[musicus]

How about:

Longing for shelter, many are homeless.
Longing for warmth, many are cold.
Make us your building, sheltering others,
walls made of living stones.

Musicus

[mcb]

All my hope on God is founded;
He doth still my trust renew,
Me through change and chance He guideth,
Only good and only true.
God unknown, He alone
Calls my heart to be His own.

Pride of man and earthly glory,
Sword and crown betray His trust;
What with care and toil He buildeth,
Tower and temple fall to dust.
But God’s power, hour by hour,
Is my temple and my tower.

(The rest here.)

M.

[Merseysider]

Or, as it's a Pentecost demolition, from "Come Down O Love Divine":

"O let it freely burn,
till earthly passions turn
to dust and ashes in its heat consuming"

[dunstan]

Or, contrasting with the permanence of the Church

"Who is she that stands triumphant"

particularly thinking of

"Empires rise and fall like billows, vanish and are seen no more..."

[musicus]

So, how did it go, Merseysider? And did you sing?

Musicus

[Merseysider]

It was wonderful, Musicus – an experience never to be forgotten.

We couldn't get near the church – there were thousands of people all over Everton Brow (the highest point on Merseyside). Can't tell you what it felt like when the warning hooter sounded and then, ten minutes later, this massive edifice just slid into the ground. It was like watching a giant elevator slipping into the basement. No, we didn't sing but the cheering and shouting was phenomenol.

Many past parishoners, and a couple of clergy, had turned up so there was a fantastic atmosphere of cameraderie. One lady smiled: "Ooh lovely – it's just like the war all over again." (You might know that Liverpool was practically flattened in dozens of air raids so I don't fully understand the nostalgia!)

Only problem was that the timings were all out. We should have started Mass by 11.30 but were even allowed into the church until then. And our PP – never one to rush things liturgical, usual quite the opposite – was becoming fractious as he had to be away by 12:15pm to get to baptisms at the other church.

But there was something special about seeing the church fill up with faces from the old days. And even though we had to cut from intro to Gospel, Mass seemed more special than ever. The sermon was simply: "Today, filled with the Holy Spirit, we should have a much bigger effect on the world than the explosives did on that tower block". Certainly the shortest (and passibly most effective) homily I have ever heard. Anyway, once we arrived at the procession of gifts he announced: Mass will now continue at the usual pace. And perhaps it was my imagination but it felt that the congregation sang the Holy better than ever before and the choir soared above them with a glorious descant.

Seeing the whole thing, added to a glorious funeral for a lifelong parishioner last Wednesday, reminded me so much that I'm not just musicking in a particular parish – I'm part of a living, breathing community.

Sorry, Musicus, a rather wordy reply.

[musicus]

Not at all - it was great to hear all about it. What a marvellous homily!

M