evening prayer

On Wednesday evening, an hour before choir pratice, a few of us gather in the church for weekly evening prayer, sung or spoken, Rite I or Rite II. We sit in the choir, with its black enamel painted pews. Earlier in the year at this time, the western sun poured through the large window at the other end of the church, and the gray walls between it and where we are were striped with the contrast between shadows and light. That final burst of light gave emphasis to the words of the liturgy. But now the setting sun is faint, and the shadows cover more space than that filled with light.

Oh gracious light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!
Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of Life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.

The Old Testament lesson is from Ezra, about the work at restoring the Temple in Jerusalem. The Daily Office passages are longer than the readings on Sunday, and unlike the Eucharist, where the gospel lesson lingers in my mind for a few days, at this service I hear the Ezra reading, but barely notice the gospel story.

We recite the Magnificat and the Nunc Dimittis, and think of past choral settings of these words, each one emphasizing a different phrase.

Silence. A hymn. Prayers. Thanksgiving.

For a moment, time remains outside. Cars drive past, busy, tired people leaving downtown for the northern suburbs. Inside, it is quiet and we move slowly before we realize it's time to get on to the next thing.