A few months ago I began helping in the church service as a lay reader. The Episcopalians being a bit on the high-church side, this calls for learning a lot of ritual. There's candle-lighting in a particular pattern and order to start with, then a procession (with hymn), with various people carrying various things in a particular order. Next there are readings by a couple of different laymen interspersed with the priest's parts in the Book of Common Prayer, now and then joined by the choir and the congregation, as we sing together the Gloria, the Sanctus, and the Lord's Prayer. Then the sermon, more speaking parts by laymen, a complicated hand-off of offering plates and the elements of the Eucharist among the ushers, the acolytes, the lay readers, and the priest. Then the serving of the wine and bread, which in itself is an intricate minuet involving three people (plus the communicants at the rail) and lots of spoken parts. Finally, announcements, special blessings for birthdays and anniversaries, extinguishing the candles in reverse order, and the recession (with hymn).
Today was complete discombobulation. Our rector had been called suddenly out of town and replaced by a sweet old visiting priest who does things rather differently--lots of things are optional--in addition to being just a bit forgetful today. He forgot the Gospel lesson altogether, together with perhaps half of the order of communion, and started the announcements early in the service when the ushers were standing near the front door, ready to bring up the elements and trade them for the offering plates. (An old hand suggested tactfully from his pew, "Maybe now would be a good time for the Offertory." The priest gratefully agreed.) Our young acolyte suffered a bout of stomach upset in the middle of the service and left the altar, returning quickly, but still distracted enough by her physical distress that she never quite got back into her groove.
I'm still new enough to have trouble remembering my lines and my paces at various points. Reading the lessons is easy, but there are stock phrases at the beginning and end that aren't on the hand-out, as well as times when I need to stand here and do this, or stand there and do that, which is particularly challenging when the visiting priest is used to something different--will he pour the wine or does he want us to?--and doesn't offer quite the cues I'm used to. In the end we all more or less flubbed everything, but the important thing is that communion got served and we all tried not do anything too distracting or irreverent, so I don't think anyone's worship was hampered. I try to concentrate on not fidgeting or drifting, and on thinking about what needs to happen next, in case somebody gets shot out of the saddle and another of us needs to pick up the slack seamlessly.
Our altar guild director has been urging me to read more slowly. Today my first lesson was quite long, the whole opening section of Genesis, all seven days of creation. I felt I'd be at the lectern reading all morning, but I concentrated on slowing down. After the service, a parishioner congratulated me on reading quickly. "It was such a long passage," she said, "we'd still be in there if you hadn't picked up the pace." "Cap'n," I wanted to say, "I canna rrread any more slowly than that!"
When I was participating as a member of the congregation, I scarcely noticed all the choreographed movement in the sanctuary. It's almost like putting on a short musical. I look forward to getting so comfortable with all the parts that the whole team can respond flexibly and serenely to the unexpected, whether that's a lay reader who forgets to show up or a blessing inserted into the "Prayers of the People" that includes a reference to a perfectly unpronounceable church and pastor in Myanmar (as happened this morning). Luckily, no one in the congregation knows how to pronounce Burmese, either. Just sound confident and move on.
Some years ago, when life seemed quite unbearable, I concluded that what I needed in my life was more music, more ritual, and more animals. It's been just what the doctor ordered.