It was the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Hispanic congregation was due to have an overflow crowd for their 4:00 service and again at 7:30.
They were preparing a beautiful light filled shrine for the statue of The Virgin and I wandered in to behold the wonder, when I realized that our 20 lovely Advent three-inch-candle-light-pillar-votives-in-their-sconces had melted and dripped from 7’ up during church that morning to create amazing mounds of wax on the floor, the splatter effect of which looked like someone had spilled uncooked grits everywhere!
We’ve been praying the light.
Prayer on the hoof and on the ladder and the stepstool, in the store and on the phone, and on our knees
with scrapers in hand. . . we pray the light, play with the light, worship the light. And love it.
With the wax cleaned up, it was back to the drawing board this week for the devoted altar guild enthusiasts, for a second round of scouring the town for just the right candles. Trips to the wholesale florist and various shops, and the test drive of new candles with glass sleeves. Nope: too big, too formal, too hard to light, too hard to snuff out, a hunt on-line and out again to Michael’s for small votives pre-poured in glass cups, very inexpensive, very lovely, very light giving, very easy to light and snuff, and NO DRIPS!
I’ve always felt a kindred spirit with church “Guilds” (Altar guild, flower guild, linen guild. . .any and all of the Guilds). I adore their passion for beauty, their desire for the Holy, their instinctive sense of awe, and the want to create holy space and holy experience for others, and but of course, their attention to detail!
My penchant for all these things means I tend to rope guilds into shenanigans. Always have. Always will. Even if it means Advent candlelight that creates a big fat mess! Because, oooh, isn’t it beautiful!
Suffice it to say, I am always gloriously beholden to the silent, behind the scenes, hard work of liturgists who do their unsung work as ‘guilds’, so that the rest of us can lift our voices in corporate praise and get caught up in the rapture of worship.
In this season of sitting in darkness,
waiting and watching for Messiah to be born to us,
In this season of nuanced flickering flame, holy shadow dance and increasing light,
In this season of trimming wicks and tending the fire,
Remember this important thing that Jesus said:
“You. . . are the light of the world.”
Mindful of light,
and ever vigilant,
Reverend Ruth Pattison
The Rev. Ruth Pattison was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the third of four children, to Bill and Lucille Lindberg. Although young Ruth was raised in the Baptist church, her father was an organist and choirmaster in the Episcopal Church, which is where she discovered her love for liturgy and music.