Since 1979 and the "new" BCP we have been living together with Sunday celebrations of Holy Eucharist as our anchoring worship. More recently we've joined with several other denominations and have relied on the Revised Common Lectionary to inform our preaching in the context of regular Sunday table fellowship.
The RCL nearly matches the schedule in the back of our prayer books. Differing most remarkably by providing two options for the set of readings that accompany the gospel: Track 1 and Track 2.
Our General Convention 2006 started our transition to its use through periods of experimental, to provisional and now authorized practices. Our bulletin inserts have almost seamlessly led us into this current usage of Track 1 of the RCL. Raise your hand if you haven't noticed.
The RCL nearly matches the schedule in the back of our prayer books. Differing most remarkably by providing two options for the set of readings that accompany the gospel: Track 1 and Track 2.
Our General Convention 2006 started our transition to its use through periods of experimental, to provisional and now authorized practices. Our bulletin inserts have almost seamlessly led us into this current usage of Track 1 of the RCL. Raise your hand if you haven't noticed.
These schedules are not frivolous inventions of some ivory tower elite or some obscure saint. For Sundays, both our BCP lectionary and the RCL are the results of a prayerfully shared labor of hundreds of scholars working over several decades.
Two overarching concerns have informed their work: effectively staging the drama and message focused in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth AND equipping worshippers to live in the world from a commitment begun in Holy Baptism and renewed in regular celebrations of Holy Eucharist.
The curtain on Luke's account is about to close but not until we recognize an ironic triumph. Christ the King, as the last Sunday of the liturgical year is known, has as it's informing text the moment just before Jesus dies on Calvary's cross between the two thieves. The sign over his cross says King of the Jews and from that cross he grants passage into paradise for one of the thieves.
That's how this life, death, resurrection drama works. We tell the story from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, from glorified manger to empty tomb, beloved Son to Lord sitting at God's right hand. We tell it regularly in the context of a meal shared through broken bread and common cup. It's what it means when he said -- and we recall his saying every week -- "do this in remembrance of me."
These next few Sundays take us into a glory like no other. I call these few weeks "All Saints'-tide." It's not official in any way. Instead it is a mnemonic device to help me look as these last days of the year as rising and fulfilling, as completing and proclaiming, as a crescendo just before the curtain drops and reopens right next to where we started last year and the the year before that and the year before that and . . .
Thanks to Luke for telling this year's story like only a Luke could. Matthew? We'll see you in a month.
Two overarching concerns have informed their work: effectively staging the drama and message focused in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth AND equipping worshippers to live in the world from a commitment begun in Holy Baptism and renewed in regular celebrations of Holy Eucharist.
The curtain on Luke's account is about to close but not until we recognize an ironic triumph. Christ the King, as the last Sunday of the liturgical year is known, has as it's informing text the moment just before Jesus dies on Calvary's cross between the two thieves. The sign over his cross says King of the Jews and from that cross he grants passage into paradise for one of the thieves.
That's how this life, death, resurrection drama works. We tell the story from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, from glorified manger to empty tomb, beloved Son to Lord sitting at God's right hand. We tell it regularly in the context of a meal shared through broken bread and common cup. It's what it means when he said -- and we recall his saying every week -- "do this in remembrance of me."
These next few Sundays take us into a glory like no other. I call these few weeks "All Saints'-tide." It's not official in any way. Instead it is a mnemonic device to help me look as these last days of the year as rising and fulfilling, as completing and proclaiming, as a crescendo just before the curtain drops and reopens right next to where we started last year and the the year before that and the year before that and . . .
Thanks to Luke for telling this year's story like only a Luke could. Matthew? We'll see you in a month.
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