Upon hearing about my Compline via Google Hangouts
experiments, a seminary classmate drew my attention to a new book about
Compline, called Prayer as Night Falls: Experiencing Compline. The
author reflects on his participation with Compline at St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral in Seattle, Washington. Beginning in 1956, the weekly Sunday evening
service later grew in popularity when it was broadcast over a local FM station.
Currently, about 500 people attend the service, with thousands more listening
via radio or podcast. Wow!
In reading a bit more about the Compline service at St.
Mark’s, I was somewhat surprised by how the service works. There is a reader
and dedicated choir, which read and sing the entirety of the service. The
congregation – the one present at St. Mark’s, as well as the radio and podcast
audiences – simply listens. In an article in Diolog, quoting from his
book, Kenneth Peterson explains it this way “they have a need, unmet by other
religious experiences, for silence, for the absence of preaching, for no other
participation than a kind of ‘active listening.’ They have, quite simply, a
hunger for direct, unmediated experience of the Divine Presence” (10).
I’ve not experienced Compline anywhere other than at LTSG,
so I don’t know if the role of the congregation as attentive listener rather
than active participant is the model in other places. Our Compline services are
much more informal – we gather on stone benches around a
broken-fountain-turned-fire-pit near the campus residences. It’s late, and in
the fall, on the edges of winter, we’re bundled up in sweatpants and blankets –
our pajamas. There is a rotating leader who plans the service, and everyone
else brings a hymnal to sing and read along. A lone lamppost lights the quad
(Narnia?!) and I often have to sit at a very particular angle to catch the
light and read the small print of my tiny, worn hymnal, which opens right to
page 320, where the liturgy begins.
For me, singing and reading the service is relaxing. I
suppose I could just listen, and listening itself is an important spiritual
practice. But there’s something about singing a cappella, suppressing smiles
and a snicker when the group attempts to sing what is so obviously an
unfamiliar hymn, grinning in awe when someone breaks into harmony and the sound
is beautiful. There are times of just listening, as well – to the leader
reading a short passage from Scripture or praying; to the late-night cricket
sounds; to the occasional traffic on Rt. 116 (it’s never completely silent).
In many ways, Compline via Google Hangouts is a blend of
these two experiences. The intention is for each participant to, well,
participate. But, with the limitations of the technology and trying to work
around the lag in the audio (especially when we sing), we’ve had to make adjustments
to how the service works. For the time being, we’ve solved this by asking all
but the leader to mute their microphones. The participants can still sing
along, following the leader’s voice, heard only by whoever is home with them. Or,
they can sit back, close their eyes, and actively listen. Someone made the
suggestion to divide the leadership of the service, including individual verses
of hymns. Not everyone may be comfortable singing a solo, but this practice
would spread around the opportunity for each person to experience singing as
well as simply listening.
Like the service at St. Mark’s, I hope to continue this
practice and invite others to join me for Compline through Google Hangouts once
per week. This will be an especially meaningful practice for me on nights when
I’m home, and not able to participate in the service held at LTSG. I’ve
appreciated the opportunity to connect with former classmates, and with family
members who live far away. Whether we hear one another singing or not, being
able to see each person as well as share in this form of worship together has
been special. I am thankful for the willingness so many have had to try
something new and be together as community in a different way.
Almighty God,
grant us a quiet night, and peace at the last. Amen.
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