Mystic Sweet Communion by Jane Kirkpatrick

Author:Jane Kirkpatrick [Kirkpatrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2009-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

That evening, we chanted psalms chorales at the house. I’d newly organized the group of fifteen or so. I loved the blend of voice and Scripture that led us in worship. Tonight I needed it more than ever. The sounds brushed me with a strange kind of unity where one voice could cover for the breathing of another, so it always sounded as one. I had heard that monks and sisters chanted the psalms and had for generations, morning, noon, and night, a pause in each day, a worshipful moment. Sharing that with them gave me a sense of gathering, of joining in a strange and mystic way with people who had chosen differently than others, put their passion into service and to love not in the physical, but in a celibate way. The music told me their union was deeply meaningful and perhaps even stronger than those who chose the noncelibate life.

My decision, which had become our decision—Frank’s and mine—was unexplainable to others, I suppose, in many ways. Certainly to Pink. I loved Frank no less. In fact, as I looked and listened to the women speak of their husbands while at the women’s club or as I watched for evidence of tenderness between husbands and wives, I often felt dismayed, shocked by the lack of tenderness I saw there; and I was amazed at the abundance of what I felt existed within my own union. Children would not have added to that abundance, I didn’t think. And their presence would have made it difficult for me to reach out to so many others.

Sharing these chants proved an abundance beyond measure. The tones washed over me throughout the week when I walked, sewed, cooked, and yes, even when I continued to watch the children appear like stars in the night sky through the dark greenery surrounding my porch, continued to share Bible stories with them, watch them feed my soul while I hoped I nurtured theirs.

Frank’s favorite chant came from Psalm 91: “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” That was the first verse in a psalm that spoke of protection through knowledge and surrender.

I loved the twenty-third psalm, but as with many great prayers, blending it into a sung choral rendition was a challenge. As a chant, it filled my soul and I found myself rested with it that night, rested from the encounter with a birth that day, with Stretch’s accusations and sharing my shame with my sister. Had Pink described me best? Was I afraid to know the Seminole people better, expose myself to them? The Baptists were living among the Cow Creeks. Was I willing to do that? Or was I volunteering to share their burdens but only on my terms, under my control?

Pink was right about one thing: I felt exposed when I let others stand too close. I preferred to live unattached.

The words and chanting rhythms soothed me like a long-awaited prayer.

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