‘I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come?’ (Psalm 121: 1) … snow on the Pyrenees (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
In the Calendar of the Church, we are in Ordinary Time, but today the church celebrates the Feast of the Birth of John the Baptist. Today also marks the anniversary of my ordination as priest 21 years ago on 24 June 2001 by Archbishop Walton Empey in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin.
Before today begins, I am taking some time this morning to continue my reflections drawing on the Psalms.
In my blog, I am reflecting each morning in this Prayer Diary in these ways:
1, Short reflections on a psalm or psalms;
2, reading the psalm or psalms;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
Psalm 121:
Psalm 121 is the second of a series of 15 short psalms (Psalm 120-134) known as the ‘Songs of Ascents.’ These psalms begin with the Hebrew words שיר המעלות (Shir Hama’a lot). In the slightly different numbering system in the Greek Septuagint and the Latin Vulgate, this is counted as Psalm 120. It is sometimes known by its Latin opening words, Levavi oculus.
Many scholars say these psalms were sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to attend the three pilgrim festivals. Others say they were sung by the Levite singers as they ascended the 15 steps to minister at the Temple in Jerusalem.
The Mishnah notes the correspondence between the 15 songs and the 15 steps between the men’s court and the women’s courtyards in the Temple. A Talmudic legend says King David composed or sang the 15 songs to calm the rising waters at the foundation of the Temple.
One view says the Levites first sang the Songs of Ascent at the dedication of Solomon’s Temple during the night of 15 Tishri 959 BCE. Another study suggests they were composed for a celebration after Nehemiah’s rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem in 445 BCE. Others suggest they may originally have been songs sung by the exiles returning from Babylon ascending to Jerusalem, or individual poems later collected together and given the title linking them to pilgrimage after the Babylonian captivity.
These psalms are cheerful and hopeful, and they place an emphasis on Zion. They were suited for being sung because of their poetic style and the sentiments they express. They are brief, almost like epigrams, and they are marked by the use of a keyword or repeated phrase that serves as a rung on which the poem ascends to its final theme.
Psalm 121 is one of the great expressions of trust in God’s protection, often recited in times of trouble. The Hebrew word sh-m-r, ‘guard, protect,’ appears six times in this short psalm.
I try to imagine the writer of Psalm 121 setting out as a pilgrim on a journey or pilgrimage to the hill country, perhaps to Mount Zion and the Temple in Jerusalem, perhaps to hill country where earlier people imagined pagan gods were dwelling.
As he looks up to the hills, he asks himself, perhaps rhetorically, ‘from where is my help to come?’
He then answers his own question: his help comes from God, the creator.
He then hears another voice, perhaps a priest in the Temple, tell him of God’s protection of his people: God is always vigilant in protecting the pilgrims’ path, protecting them along the way against the sun and inclement weather, by day and by night, protecting them against all evil, not only through their own lives, but ‘from this time forth for evermore.’
Yosef Karduner sings his classic song ‘Shir Lamaalot’ (Psalm 121), with Ari Goldwag at a benefit concert in 2018
Psalm 121 (NRSVA):
A Song of Ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and for evermore.
Inside the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield, last week … today is the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Today’s Prayer:
The theme this week in the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) is the Swarupantor programme in the Church of Bangladesh. This theme was introduced on Sunday.
Friday 24 June 2022 (The Birth of John the Baptist):
The USPG Prayer invites us to pray today in these words:
Today we remember the birth of John the Baptist. Let us give thanks for his preaching and witness.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
24 June 2022
21 years in priestly
ministry and my scenic
route to ordination
Patrick Comerford
I was ordained priest 21 years ago tomorrow, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 22 years ago on 25 June 2000.
The Birth of Saint John Baptist (24 June) is one of the few birthdays of a saint commemorated in the Book of Common Prayer (see pp 20-21).
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry almost three months ago (31 March 2022), and I am in process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO), I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflect this week on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recall too how my path to ordination began 51 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I returned to last week.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury and the Tamworth Herald. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand. I think it was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then then Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my spiritual home, and I returned to both again last week (16-17 June 2022).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, as I await PTO in a new diocese I am finding unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day tomorrow. This is trying at personal level, and so it was good to visit Lichfield last week and to be reminded that I remain a priest forever.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
The Collect (the Birth of Saint John the Baptist):
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour,
by the preaching of repentance:
Lead us to repent according to his preaching,
and, after his example, constantly to speak the truth,
boldly to rebuke vice, and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
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