Praying Shapes Believing
FROM THE RECTOR
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure…
O God, you declare your power chiefly in showing mercy and pity…
Almighty and everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear that we to pray, and to give more that we either desire or deserve…
Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us…
Including this coming Sunday, those are the opening lines of the Collects of the Day for the last four weeks. We pray the collect near the beginning of worship each Sunday, and I do not blame you if you have missed it. At that point in the liturgy, it feels like we are still warming up—tuning our ears and hearts and minds to receive what God might be saying to us that day. Immediately after the collect are the lessons, which usually get more attention both from the congregation and the preacher. Lately, though, the collects have left a spiritual imprint on my soul, and I want to invite you to hear them more deeply.
Each liturgical occasion, including every Sunday, every major feast like Christmas and Epiphany, and every minor feast like St. Philip, the deacon and evangelist whom we commemorated yesterday, has its own collect. There are also collects for special occasions like a church convention or a service for peace. Collects (pronounced “CAW-lect”) are a special form of prayer designed to collect (pronounced “co-LECT”) the individual prayers of the congregation and unite them in a shared articulation that the officiant or celebrant offers to God on behalf of the people.
Collects do more than bind together the prayers of a congregation, however. They also have the power to bind us in a shared faith. Often the collects we pray are powerful statements of theology, which, if we let them, shape our understanding of who God is and who we are in relation to God in remarkable ways.
Consider what we say about God in those prayers above. Without equivocation or explanation, we declare that God expresses divine power principally through acts of mercy. Think about that. The collect reminds us that our God, the all-powerful creator of heaven and earth, is the one who reveals true might in moments of tenderness and love. If we believe that about God, what are the implications for our lives? How does that shape the decisions we make? How does that influence the prayers we say and the hopes we maintain?
More than a reminder of our doctrine, these collects instill in us, through prayer, the tenets of our faith. How does the rest of worship feel when we start by acknowledging that God is always more ready to hear than we are to pray? What faithful expectation do we bring to the Prayers of the People when we have already stated that God is eager to give us more than we desire or deserve? When we go out into the world, are we emboldened because we know that God’s grace both precedes and follows us?
In addition to stating profound things about God, our collects often say something about human nature that the world seems reluctant to acknowledge. For example, what are the implications of saying that God gives us more than we deserve? What are we saying about ourselves and this world when we ask God to help us hold fast to things that shall endure even while we are surrounded by things that pass away? Celebrating weakness, vulnerability, impermanence, and imperfection are not culturally normative, yet the church embraces those truths and holds them up to God’s never-failing grace and love.
I wonder whether we get away with making these bite-sized proclamations of old-school theology because we usually skip past them without comment or reflection. I hardly ever preach on the Collect of the Day, but, more often than not, when I allow the fullness of a collect to linger in my consciousness for more than a fleeting moment, it begins to shape me. With those words, I feel bound in timeless ways to the proclamations of our spiritual ancestors and the eternal truths of God. I experience a hope that is both theologically contemporary and culturally anachronistic. Sometimes the melodious cadence itself is enough to transport my soul into the heavenly realm.
This Sunday, before you sit down in the pew and prepare to hear the lessons, give the collect some attention. As the presider speaks the appointed words, let your spirit proclaim them in your heart. Allow the fullness of what we pray to become a seed planted in your soul, and trust that the readings, the sermon, the hymns, the prayers, and the sacrament will water and nurture it until it sprouts in your life.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan D. Garner