A Vigil for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost [or Proper 19]
"...let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up...."
The lections for today may be found here.
Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow him; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
Today is the Feast of the Holy Cross. While I had begun service in the Church as a monk and ordained deacon four years earlier, it was not until this day in 1986 that I was ordained to the priesthood.
By happy coincidence, a couple of weeks ago in my retirement church, where I abide not in the sedilia or pulpit but in a pew with the rest of the congregation, we sang Hymn #488 in the Episcopal Church hymnal. The tune is named Slane and is familiar to any routine church goer.
It was one of the hymns used at my ordination.
In fact, I have appointed it, assigned it, heard it, processed to it, and sung it so many times that I know the words by heart.
During the exchange of the Peace, the senior warden approached me and asked, “Excuse me, but are you a priest? I saw you singing without using the hymnal.”
When I replied in the affirmative, emphasizing my retired status, he asked, “Can we put you on our supply clergy list?”
Curses, foiled again.
But the exchange led me to wonder about the hymn tune itself, as I realized that for all of my familiarity, I didn’t know much about it. It turns out that the story is a real corker.
Slane is named for a hill outside of the town of Tara in County Meath, Ireland. It was there in circa 430 that St. Padraic [Patrick] committed to a confrontational act against the pagan King Logaire.
Logaire had ordered that no fires were to be lit before he lit the “new fire” on Slane Hill for the pagan spring festival. Before the king had a chance to do so, Padraic lit a Pascal candle on Easter Eve on the top of Slane to be seen throughout the countryside.
It is testimony to Padraic’s power and popularity that he wasn’t brutalized or serviced in some agricultural manner by the king’s henchmen. He added, through this witness, a few hundred more Christians to the greater church.
The tune is so ancient that it is anonymous. While historically nebulous, the words appear to be attributable to Dallan Forgail, a 6th or 7th century Irish poet [the name tipped you off, didn’t it?], himself canonized at some point by the Irish church. However, like many of the tales of the Celtic Church, this one is hard to verify or date with accuracy. Some musicologists simply shrug and attribute the words to Padraic.
Regardless, it is a good match of words and music and a fulsome hymn to sing and hear. I used to ask my music directors to place it before the sermon as it always gave me a spiritual lift before entering the pulpit.
Whether in a parish or through electronic pages, I can still answer this question from the ordination liturgy resolutely:
Will you persevere in prayer, both in public and in
private, asking God's grace, both for yourself and for
others, offering all your labors to God, through the
mediation of Jesus Christ, and in the sanctification
of the Holy Spirit? [Book of Common Prayer, page 532]
As I wanted to answer way back then: Hell, yeah.
Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known,
and from you no secrets are hid. Cleanse the thoughts of our
hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may
perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name;
through Christ our Lord. Amen.