There are few liturgical rites used in the global Anglican Communion that are more beautiful then the service known as “Compline,” “Vespers,” “Evensong” or simply “Evening Prayer.” Similar services are common in Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism.
The blending of music, prayers and biblical texts in the Compline rites at Magdalen College, Oxford, are world famous. The historic Trinity Episcopal Church on Wall Street offers a variety of Evening Prayer rites, including its well-known Sunday evening “Compline by Candlelight” service.
Worshipers who attend these rites are used to hearing texts such as this from Psalm 74: “Yours is the day, O God, yours also the night; you established the moon and the sun. You fixed all the boundaries of the
earth; you made both summer and winter.” Psalm 141 includes this poetic image: “Let my prayer be set forth in your sight as incense, the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice."
As believers move from the trials of daily life into the evening hours, these rites almost always include some kind of confession of sins, such as this “Book of Common Prayer” text:
“Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.”
According to a long, fascinating Associated Press report — which combines text and video — something rather different is taking place in an Episcopal sanctuary in Park Slope, one of New York City’s most trendy, oh-so hip neighborhoods.
Readers are given quite a bit of information about some of the contents of an evening prayer rite at this parish. At the same, readers learn next to nothing — other than a few strategic hints — about what has been edited out of this liturgy or added to it. Both halves of that equation could be news. Let’s start with the overture:
NEW YORK (AP) — Meditation and immersion in soothing sounds meet church liturgy at All Saints Episcopal Church in Brooklyn. The combination takes on stress — and self-examination. Welcome to sound bath Evensong.
The first time Alexis Dixon attended a sound bath Evensong at the church, she cried. “I was just sitting there and the light was coming through a stained glass window. Incense was burning, and it felt like, really moving. It was pretty unreal.”
In the Anglican tradition, Evensong is a liturgical service that combines music and scripture to mark the turn of day into night. What you see and hear varies depending on the city and the church. … Sound bath is a sonic meditative practice where participants are enveloped in a sea of sound.
So far, so good. Of course, worshipers would be “enveloped in a sea of sound” during most evening prayer or “Vespers” rites.
The question is: What sounds are we talking about? And what “scriptures” are included in this particular rite? Is this service drawn from the Episcopal “Book of Common Prayer”?
Let’s keep reading.
During sound bath Evensong, ethereal voices sing sacred texts as a musician pumps a Shruti box, creating a low, steady hum. A single pitch from a singing bowl dissolves into sonorous overtones from a large gong. It penetrates to the core. The sounds are primal and soothing. For those who sit in quiet contemplation in the pews, the unique acoustic experience offers a chance to clear the mind. …
At a neighborhood parish like All Saints, the forty-five-minute liturgy is smaller in scale, but not in purpose: the contemplative service uses music, candles and incense to create an oasis of calm so people can sit quietly in communion with others as the outside world rages on.
Once again: What “sacred texts” are included? Is the actual content of the service important?
The rector of this parish, the Rev. Steven Paulikas, explains that the purpose of the rite is to “help people take care of their own souls” during an age in which words and worship have, in some cases, been weaponized.
As the story continues, it’s clear that there are religious “sound baths” and nonreligious variations on this practice. This particular parish offers at least three kinds, cooperating with various artists and activists.
So what, precisely, is the difference between an Episcopal Evensong, a “liturgical” sound bath Evensong and a non-religious (or non-Christian) sound bath rite? Again, let’s keep reading:
Over a year ago, Paulikas decided to experiment with a new approach to Evensong — he invited a sound bath musician to join him on the altar as part of a monthly service. Sound baths, which are non-religious in practice, have grown in popularity in recent years and usually take place in yoga and meditation studios. Participants lie on their backs on mats as a facilitator creates a cocoon of ambient sound using Himalayan and crystal singing bowls, chimes, and tuning forks. There is often a gong and a Shruti box — a hand pumped instrument used to create a drone-like chord often heard in Indian classical music. Churches like All Saints also offer their space up for sound baths, but usually after hours when religious services are over.
For Paulikas, that’s where his idea began to take form, during a weekly, non-religious sound bath at his own church. Lying on the floor, staring up at the cavernous ceiling he thought, “I love this so much. It really feeds my soul,” he said. “I’m having feelings that are very similar to when I’m worshiping in church normally. And wouldn’t it be amazing if all these people who were here for the sound bath were able to experience the same richness of the church’s liturgy that I experience and love.”
Interesting. So a rite that includes elements of Yoga and Indian music can accurately be called “non-religious”?
But back the main question about the rite that is the hook for this story: What part of the Episcopal liturgy make it into the sound bath Evensong?
The story does an excellent job of describing the rite’s mood and even the instrumental music. But — here is my essential journalistic question — do readers ever find out what kinds of words these New Yorkers are singing and/or praying in what Paulikas calls the “continuing evolution of the church’s liturgy.”
Readers start to get some hints here:
Alexis Dixon has attended sound baths for two years, mostly in yoga studios. It helped her deal with the stress of her job as a teacher. “I was having a particularly difficult time at work and it felt like I needed to focus on really centering myself and being stable so that I can be present in the classroom,” she said. She finds sound baths make her more resilient and less triggered by the demands of her work. Though, when she was invited to attend a sound bath that was part of a formal church service, she hesitated. “I felt like I would get a message that I didn’t necessarily agree with and it would focus too much on the Bible,” she said.
Read this next part carefully:
Despite her reservations, she decided to go anyway and was surprised by what she found. “I get to meet people, talk to people who are very kind,” she said. “We have to honor the fact that there are different spiritual practices that resonate with different people for different reasons. Saying it’s okay that a certain practice doesn’t involve God, and we accept it is huge.”
Read that again. It’s impossible to know if the “certain practice” that “doesn’t involve God” is the sound bath trend in general or this specific Evensong rite. The story never makes that clear.
So is this a non-God rite, an interfaith rite including texts from a variety of world religions or an Episcopal rite that happens to have music from other meditation traditions?
Is the actual religious content of the rite important? If the answer is “no,” why is that?
P.S. Yes, I am asking this, in part, because of a personal experience in an alternative worship rite in an Episcopal context, back in 1993 (see my “Liturgical Dances with Wolves” essay). And remember the Pachamama bowl on the altar during a Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome? Readers may also recall news headlines about the “praying with/to plants” rite at Union Theological Seminary in New York City.
So, just asking. Why isn’t the content of the rite part of the story?