Matins: some Considerations

The Holy Eucharist, the principal act of Christian worship on the Lord’s Day and other major Feasts, and Daily Morning and Evening Prayer, as set forth in this Book, are the regular services appointed for public worship in this Church. (Book of Common Prayer p. 13, the first sentence of the Book after its contents, certificate, and preface)

Earlier this summer, I suspended the public weekday observance of Matins (Morning Prayer). There were reasons for this, and reasons why I thought the suspension would be permanent.

For our parish, the story began with Fr. Sanderson in the autumn of 2000 when he arrived as interim priest-in-charge. He was determined to pray Matins and Evensong every day in the parish church as is meet and right, and in obedience to his ordination vows in the Church of England. The Vestry opposed him on this, claiming (with some justification) that the establishment of times for worship was their prerogative. He ignored them, noting that he would open the doors and pray the Office whether they liked it or not and whether they listed the Offices on the calendar as public services or not.

Several parishioners joined Fr. Sanderson for the Daily Office, most of them from the Brotherhood of St. Andrew and Daughters of the King, with the best attendance at daily Evensong which at times ran to five or six persons. Matins settled into a regular gathering of three: Fr. Sanderson, Bill (a member of a neighboring parish who worked in our city at the university), and me.

When Fr. Sanderson departed, several of us took the responsibility of continuing the Office. Charles, Delbert, and Grace (may she rest in peace) led the daily Evensongs; I led Matins, excepting two Saturdays a month when the Brotherhood and DOK prayed the Office and had their meetings. After Bill’s retirement, he no longer came into town for Matins so it was just me, with occasional visitors. One of those was the diocesan Bishop. On Sundays, I am regularly joined by Fr. H., our distinguished retired priest and canon, with (again) occasional visitors.

Evensong has dwindled until the weekday version no longer happens. All that remains is Choral Evensong on the First Sundays of the month during the academic year. And Matins, until this summer.

I was to be out of town for several occasions in July and August, most notably the RSCM Course. Getting the Matins service on to the official printed church listing of events (and website) is complex, as is its removal, so it seemed best to remove it altogether rather than moving it on and off to fit my travels.

And I am tired.

Not of the Offices, mind you; I continued to pray them. But I was tired of doing them at a fixed hour, of being accountable for it no matter how I felt, no matter what else I had to do. I was tired of the responsibility of having the door open to all comers, most often street people who know that I am there at that hour (and no one else) and they can ask for money. Even though it was not every day that anyone showed up, or even every week, the prospect of it has worn me out.

But there are other considerations.

For one thing, those street people, just a few of them in truth. Two of them have been around enough so that they join in the prayers when they show up. Perhaps it makes a difference for them.

For another, this fall’s confirmation class is making a special emphasis on Morning and Evening Prayer. Many of these young people are in our Choir and I have known them since they were small children. How can we tell them “This is important,” but by example say “No, it’s not. We can’t be bothered to have this as a regular service of the church.” It was this consideration that carried the day for me; I cannot put into words how much I want for these young people that they establish the habit of daily prayer and attentive reading/hearing of the Psalms and Holy Scripture. If I can aid them even a little by example, that would be worthwhile.

This morning, I sent a Slack message to the secretary and sexton that we will be starting Matins next week. Three mornings a week, plus Sundays.

We shall see how long I can carry it forward. At most, I have but a few years remaining in this place. Perhaps someone else will pick it up in this parish. Or perhaps not.

But “the voice of prayer is never silent.” In one form or another, liturgical prayer has been offered to our Lord and God every morning and evening since He commanded his servant Moses that it be so, and more informally clear back to when He used to walk in the Garden “in the cool of the day” with Adam and Eve. It was the rupture of this fellowship which signaled that something had gone horribly wrong (Gen. 3:8-19), and it was only His grace that healed the breach.

It is given me to have a small part in this for a while. When I am gone, the prayer will continue. That much is certain.

[Update, Sept. 8: One of the aforementioned street people joined me for Matins this morning. He is struggling with addiction and doing well for now, trying to put his life back together. Among the things he is doing: turning himself in for a short jail sentence in lieu of a fine, which he is unable to pay. "I might as well take care of it," he told me, and came to Matins seeking strength to carry it through.

And here I am, barely willing even to open the door and offer this little service as a public liturgy. Kyrie eleison.]