Kyrie guest blogger

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus wrote that no one can step into the same river twice as a metaphor for continuous change in our lives.  In the same way, despite repeating the lyrics and often the tunes of the liturgy each Sunday, the meaning can still be different for each of us and can change dramatically from week to week.

A few weeks ago, my undergraduate college advisor passed away.  He was a philosopher and a wonderful teacher, who inspired a group of students on our journey through the Western Canon in St. Olaf's Great Conversation program.  His final weeks inspired a poem on his Caringbridge website, and more than anything else I could say here it is a tribute to him and to the power of the simple words of the liturgy to carry immense meaning for our daily lives:

From the land of the living

From the bedside of hospice

From the foot of the cross

...every moment precious...

Lord have mercy

Christ have mercy

Lord have mercy

Library Lady - Kyrie

I'm back for Kyrie week!  This time I want to talk about a book for the kids and for the adults.  For the kids, I suggest the title "Mama, Do You Love Me?" by Barbara M. Joose.  It's a beautifully illustrated story about an Inuit mother and daughter.  The story is specific to the arctic, with descriptions of mukluks and puffins, so it's an opportunity to talk about Inuit culture and the geography of Alaska and Canada.

The story also relates perfectly to the theme of mercy.  The little girl begins the story by asking her mother "Do you love me?"  The mother replies with strong metaphors about the vast extent of her love.  The girl proceeds to suggest all kinds of hypothetical situations where she makes mistakes or something bad happens.  In response to each, the mother affirms her love.  Even when she is angry, she tells her daughter, she still loves her.

It's important to notice that we need mercy most when we have erred.  Mercy doesn't spring from a Zen-like calm; it isn't simply a synonym for gentleness or kindness.  Instead, mercy is most vital when there has been offense and anger.  Like children who have made a mess, we sin, and even in frustration and anger, God forgives us.

Portia makes that same point eloquently in Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice."  (That's a picture of Maggie Smith playing the role; she's one of my favortie actresses!)  When she rescues Antonio in court in Act IV, Portia notes that mercy cannot be compelled in one of the most famous passages ever written:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.  It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

The value of mercy is precisely that it is a voluntary gift that lies outside the law.  What a perfect metaphor for God's forgiveness of our sins!  I hope the stories help you understand and contemplate the meaning of Kyrie, and I'll be back next week.

Prayers of the church

Yesterday, I wrote about the Litany of Peace that begins our Kyrie.  Today, I want to mention the remaining two lines of the text.  The Kyrie turns its attention to the church and its members.  First, we sing "For this holy house, and for all who offer here their worship and praise, let us pray to the Lord."  I'm likely over-reading the text, but I've always been a fan of the word "all" in this text.  It does not say that we pray solely for members of the church or anything of the sort.  We pray for all who offer worship and praise, visitors and long time members, clergy and staff.  I'm convinced that churches need to be inviting places of peace, mercy, and inclusiveness to thrive; just as Jesus dined with tax collectors and people from all walks of life, so should we welcome all into the embrace of God's mercy.

The final line of the Kyrie is a request: "Help, save, comfort, and defend us, gracious Lord."  Since this text comes near the beginning of the service, I think of it as asking for His presence throughout the rest of the service and the week ahead.

Kyrie

Tonight we begin the new weekly theme of Kyrie.  This is the first portion of the Ordinary of the liturgy.  It is called the Ordinary because it is comprised of the texts that are repeated every week.  This distinguishes it from the Proper, which changes every week.  Lutheran churches have moved away from most of the sung portion of the Proper, but it includes such things as the Introit, Gradual, and Collect.  We do retain it in some places, such as the communion blessing before the Sanctus, which changes depending on the season or festival.

But back to the Kyrie.  The text could not be simpler: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.  It translates simply as Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy; Lord, have mercy.  Thus, it follows naturally from the Confession.  Mercy is entertwined with forgiveness.

The phrase can be found in scattered passages throughout the Old and New Testaments.  For example, Psalm 4: "Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness: Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer" and in the sotry of Jesus healing two blind men (Matthew 9), they first get his attention by calling out "Have mercy on us, Son of David."

The ELCA liturgy follows the Great Litany of Peace, in which the first three petitions concern peace.  "In peace, let us pray to the Lord."  Followed by "For the peace from above and for our salvation, let us pray to the Lord" and "For the peace of the whole world, for the well being of the church of God and for the unity of all, let us pray to the Lord."  The text is a dramatic prayer for peace, mercy, and forgiveness.  We will sing it tonight as part of our Lenten devotion, and may it set our minds at peace as we pray for that peace to extend out to encompass the world.