Versicles

The Priest then sings the versicle; "O Lord, open Thou our lips," and the choir responds: "And our mouth shall shew forth Thy praise." This versicle has been used from an early period in Church history at the beginning of one of the morning Services, though not in the Mass. Its underlying idea is that it is only by the help of the divine power in ourselves that we can hope to praise or worship at all worthily. When we speak of the help of the Lord we should try to understand that we can draw upon the divine power without—upon what is commonly called the Power of God—only because we ourselves are God also, because we are fundamentally part of Him.

The intention of this versicle is that the Divine within man may aroused to come into harmony with the Divine without, while the response tells us that after our lips are unsealed, the first use we should make of speech is to offer praise unto the Lord. It is important to notice that not prayer for benefits, but praise, is the first thing we should offer. The celebrant then sings: "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?" meaning by this: Who can usefully and suitably ascent the steps leading to the Altar? Immediately the answer comes: "Even he that hath clean hands and a pure heart." Now, with this conviction firmly implanted within himself, the celebrant turns to the people and for the first time in the Service gives the Minor Benediction.

Dominus Vobiscum

Anyone who watches attentively the Roman Service of the Mass can hardly fail to notice the frequency with which the celebrant turns round to the congregation and utters the words:
Dominus vobiscum ("The Lord be with you.")

The people reply:
Et com spiritu tuo ("And with thy spirit,")
a sentence which seems to need revision, since the Spirit is the sole possessor, and can never by any possibility be the thing possessed. A more accurate expression would be : "And with thee as a spirit," The early Church, however, did not speak with such careful precision, but adopted rather the phrasing of the Hebrew Psalmist, who not infrequently adjures his soul to bless the Lord, apparently identifying himself with his body.

St. Paul was better instructed, for he writes of body, soul and spirit as the threefold division of man, though even he still puts them as possessions of the man.

A more scientific statement is that the Spirit (sometimes called the Monad) is the divine Spark in each of us which is the cause of all the rest, and consequently the true man; that this Spirit puts down into levels lower than his own a partial manifestation of himself which we call the soul or the ego; that this soul unfolds its latent divine qualities by many successive lives in still lower world, in the course of which it clothes itself in vehicles suitable to that world, to which we give the name of body. So at any given moment of physical life man, the Spirit possesses a soul and body—indeed, several bodies, for St. Paul furthers explains: "There is a natural body and there is a spiritual body." These words are not well translated; but the context makes it clear that by the "natural body" he means this garment of flesh with which we are all well acquainted, and that by the term "spiritual body"—divided by later investigators into the astral and the mental vehicles.

However much the idea may have been obscured in the course of the ages, it is certain that the Service of the Holy Eucharist is intended to be a coherent ceremony, moving steadily onward to a climax, and skillfully calculated to produce certain magnificent effects. Regarding the ritual scientifically from that point of view, one might perhaps wonder a little at the frequent repetition of a remark which, though beautiful in itself, seems at first sight to have no obvious connection with the splendid purpose of the great spiritual act of which it forms a part.

The phrase occurs no less than nine (in the shorter form, three) times in the course of the Liturgy, with a slight but important addition in one case—the salutation of peace—to which I shall refer when we come to it. The Service as a whole centres round the tremendous outpouring of power which comes at the Consecration. All that is said and done before that moment is intended in various ways to lead up to it. and all that happens afterwards is concerned with the conservation of distribution of the power. the idea of preparing the Priest to perform the great act is undoubtedly present, but also, and more prominently that of preparing the congregation to receive it and to profit by it. This preparation of the people is achieved largely by drawing them more and more closely into magnetic harmony with the Priest—by bringing them mentally and emotionally into sympathy with him in the mighty work which he is doing. To assist in the steady augmentation of power all the time, and to promote the ever-increasing harmony of vibration between Priest and people, are the objects of this constantly repeated Minor Benediction.

To one possessing clairvoyant vision its value is clearly apparent, for when the celebrant turns to the people and sings or speaks the prescribed words, a powerful current of force rushes down over the congregation and then a moment later surges back towards the Altar, greatly increased in volume, because it sweeps up and bears with it all the little jets of force which individual worshippers have generated, which would otherwise float upward and be dissipated. It all converges upon the Priest with the words: "And with thy spirit": and the rush is sometimes so strong that, if he be at all sensitive, he is almost staggered by it, but his duty is to receive it into himself and hold it for the use of the Angel whom he is about to invoke.

This interaction is most effective in welding celebrant, assistants and congregation into one harmonious whole—a veritable living instrument to be used in the magic of the Eucharist. These words are repeated throughout the Service whenever the Priest has performed some act or uttered some prayer which will exalt his emotions or fill him with some particular force, the idea being that he is able through the Minor Benediction to share this exaltation or force with the people, and thereby lift them nearer to God. In this case it is the idea and realization of purity and concentration which is to be shared: the comprehension of the necessity of those virtues, and the determination to attain them.

Note The celebrant begins by blowing the asperges bubble, and the psalm which is meanwhile being sung, and the versicles following it, establish a rapport between him and the congregation. This condition is used to enable the celebrant, at the Minor Benediction which immediately follows, to throw out a net over his people, which he can hold them as a driver holds his horses with the reins. This net is of very great use in the Service, and it is along its lines of communication that the celebrant sends out the power at every subsequent repetition of this sentence—"The Lord be with you""—which is so effective in preserving the harmony between himself and his congregation, and, at the same time in keeping the pressures of force, at the Altar and in the body of the church, more or less equalized. This net is constantly being revivified, and is made to glow strongly by each repetition of the Dominus Vobiscum, until the Offertorium, when it is no longer needed. When a Bishop says Mass, he seems to include the people on a higher level with his net than a Priest does. And when a Bishop is present at a Priest's Mass, he is not altogether included—as it were, not quite submerged—by this outpouring. From this, his more lofty vantage-ground, he is able to do much to help. In the shorter form of the asperges, the sentence "Brethren, let us now lay the foundation of our temple" makes this net.

The Angel Of The Eucharist

The Priest now turns to another part of the reparation and says:

Collect

The phrase "Let us pray" is a signal given by the celebrant to the people when he is about to say a prayer, and it is therefore time for them to kneel. Such a sign was even more necessary in the primitive Church when the people were not supplied with copies of the liturgy (nor, in most cases, able to read them if thy had had them), and were therefore obliged to rely entirely upon the Priest for directions as to the position which they should assume. Indeed for a considerable time there was no written liturgy, and each celebrant filled in extemporaneously the outline of the ceremony as given by the Christ.

That Christ did give such an outline is certain from clairvoyant investigation. The account of the institution of this Sacrament given in the various gospels is probably substantially accurate, though we must remember that the writers were compiling a wonderful and beautiful mystery-drama, in which they were far more concerned to convey successfully the mighty truths which lay behind their symbolism than to observe exactly the unities of the story-form in which they had decided to cast their narrative. But the words spoken at that first Eucharist on the evening of Maundy Thursday (or as seems more probable, immediately after midnight, and so very early on Good Friday morning¹) were merely the formal institution of the great ceremony.

The Jews began their day at sunset, so in either case it would already be Friday according to their reckoning.

Detailed information as to its method and intention were given by the Lord after His resurrection among the many things "pertaining to the Kingdom of God" which He then taught to His disciples. But while it is certain that He gave them clear directions as to the main points of the eucharistic Service, and explained what effect each was meant to produce, it is also clear that He left this framework of the ceremony to be filled in by His apostles as they found it convenient under the constantly varying conditions of their early evangelistic work. The follows of each apostle would naturally try to remember and to reproduce his improvizations; and so a number of rituals would grow up, all built upon the same skeleton, but clothing it differently. It was only as centuries rolled on that the Church evolved by experience and by compilation the various liturgies which we now possess; though again we must not forget that He Himself stood ever behind her efforts, always ready to inspire and direct those of her leaders who laid themselves open to spiritual influence.

Having effected a preliminary purification, and so provided a field (inside the huge bubble blown by the Priest's effort) in which an Angel will feel it possible to work, the celebrant now invokes the aid of one of these beneficent helpers. There are many orders and races of these radiant non-human spirits, and most of them have at the present stage of human evolution but little connection with mankind. Certain types, however, are ever ready to take part in religious ceremonies, not only for the pleasure of doing a good action, but because such work offers them the best possible opportunity for progress.

Four times in the course of the eucharistic Service does the Priest call upon the holy Angels for their help, and we may be well assured that he never calls in vain, for a link with these celestial hosts is one of the advantages which are conferred upon him at his Ordination. On this occasion he invokes what is commonly called the Angel of the Eucharist, whose special work in connection with it is to assist in the building of the edifice of which I have already spoken. He determines the size of the form which can be erected upon any given occasion, taking into account the number of people present, the intensity of their devotion, the amount of their knowledge, their willingness to cooperate, and so on. A large congregation working intelligently can give much more material for the building of the form than a small congregation; again, far more material is available at a High Celebration than at a Low one.

It lies within the work of the Angel to see that our material is wisely used in the building of the edifice. If too large a pavement were built at the singing of the canticle, the eucharistic edifice, when complete might be so attenuated as scarcely to hold together. The form is moulded and directed by this Angel, although its outline can to a certain extent be changed by the will of the celebrant, if he knows of the existence of the form and the purpose for which it is being built. The first act of the Angel upon his arrival is to expand the bubble formed by the will of the Priest at the asperges. (Plate 4.) He pushes it beyond the Altar until it has cleared a space as far to the east of the Altar as the original had cleared to the west. To make this expansion possible without the bubble becoming too tenuous, the Priest, at the time when he asperses the Altar, should mentally picture the film of the bubble as being much thicker in the neighbourhood of the Altar and sanctuary than elsewhere.

 

It will be seen that the Roman form of the asperges prayer makes no direct reference to the Angel's work in the erection of the edifice, though it is by means of that construction that he guards, protects and defends the congregation to a large extent from the intrusion of evil or wandering thoughts, even while by his powerful yet most restful magnetism he truly visits and nourishes those who are willing to receive his influence. I do not mean that if a man allows his mind to be filled with private worries the Angel will specially interfere to drive them out; but he does exclude from his building the vast swarms of vague thought-forms which in ordinary life are constantly pressing upon us and drifting through our minds whenever for a moment we leave them blank. His very presence is a blessing, for a calming and uplifting radiance is ever streaming forth from him; so his visit clearly offers a valuable opportunity to those who are prepared to take advantage of it. In the shorter Service we compress the entire action of the asperges into one collect. Making the sign of the cross over himself with the aspergill, the Priest says:

May the Lord purify me that I may worthily perform his service.

He asperses the Altar and chancel.

In the strength of the Lord do I repel all evil from this His holy altar and sanctuary,

He asperses the people.

and from this House, wherein we worship Him;

He faces the Altar.

and I pray our heavenly Father that He will send His holy Angel to build for us a spiritual Temple through which His strength and blessing may be poured forth upon His people. Through Christ our Lord.

R.   Amen.

This is in every way as effective as the longer form, but it requires alert and concentrated thought on the part of the Priest. He will probably find it advisable to recite the collect somewhat slowly, throwing the whole strength of his will into each clause. The invocation which immediately follows the asperges in the longer form is in the shorter made to precede it, thus making the purification definitely part of the eucharistic Service instead of a preparation for it.

It has been our endeavour in the shortened form to suit the wording more exactly to the effect which is being produced, so that it may be easier for the congregation to follow the inner side of the Service. All the manual actions of the Priest are precisely the same; there is no perceptible difference between the edifices erected by the two forms, or in the amount of force outpoured. When the Epistle and gospel are not read, we lose the amount of useful material generated by the Gradual; and such members of the congregation as need a good deal of steady pressure to work up their enthusiasm have time to contribute somewhat more during the longer prayers. But in practice this slight lack is generally compensated by increased alertness and by the clearer comprehension of what is being done. In the shorter form the important actions of the ritual succeed one another more rapidly because all that is not actually necessary to the inner work has been eliminated. Many beautiful passages have to be omitted; but nevertheless the abbreviated form will be found convenient on many occasions when it would be impossible to perform the full ceremony.

Note The celebrant now calls the Angel of the Eucharist, who is to build our form for us. One does not seen to see him approaching from afar off, but he is suddenly appears in such a manner as to suggest that there is a thick veil of mist at the back of the altar, and that, when called, he just steps forward through this and is with us. I do not know what is the cause of this effect; it may be due to the speed with which he travels, so that the moment at which he is seen in the distance is so nearly simultaneous with his arrival in the church that it seems to us to be actually so, and thus, by the time we have first seen him he has already arrived. A more likely explanation is that he comes to us on some high plane—possibly where space does not exist—and then materialized lower bodies for himself.

We noticed that in a few cases which we examined, where the celebrant was himself an evolved person—an Initiate of the Great White Lodge—the colours of the Angel corresponded with certain colours in the upper part of the officiant's aura. this suggests that, in cases where the Priest is sufficiently evolved for his character to have a definite effect on things, other considerations being equal, the Angel who comes to work with him is likely to be of the same type as himself. Of course, there are churches which have definite Angels attached to them who habitually patronize them but similarly there seem to be celebrants who have their own Angels, who have these colour similarities.

With regard to the position of the Angel during the various parts of the Service, I give the results of a number of observations in one particular church.

He seems to move about a good deal within a limited area round the Altar, but is mostly near the officiating Priest. When he first shows himself, he is in front of the celebrant, but rather to the Epistle side—among the candles on that side of the Altar. This is the more masculine side of the church, as the rays represented by the candles, the jewels and crosses on this side—the South—are more positive than those to the North. In this connection it is tempting to speculate as to possible reasons for this being found in the fact that certain great earth currents are received at the North Pole and given off at the South Pole. Be that as it may, the fact remains that the South of the church is more masculine, and as the ecclesiastical power is meant to flow through male channels, it is probably easier for the Angel to work on this side.

He remains here, almost in the centre, during the Canticle and Introit; except that during the latter, he stands a little further to the side of the Altar so as to handle the swirls of power going from the celebrant, deacon and subdeacon, up to the central line (made by the tabernacle, cross and picture) and back again. During the Kyrie, he is just over the head of the officiant; for the Gloria in Excelsis, he floats up somewhat higher and moves towards the people, so that he is over the sanctuary gates, gathering from and drawing strongly on the people for his building material.

During the Collects he is mostly in his original place, in line with the three officiants, and is there receiving the power sent up through this line. While the Epistle is being read, the Angel is near the centre of the Altar, so that, as well as the more mental power which he is pouring down through the celebrant and deacon into the subdeacon, he may be in a convenient position to draw from the candles on the North and also pour down emotionally uplifting power which stimulates and raises the level of the subdeacon's emotions, and consequently, of his thought as well. As the power flows out through him on to the people, it has the same effect on them. Except for a few moments when he comes out just to the left of the subdeacon—who is standing in the centre line of the Altar on the lowest step—and when he goes behind the Altar for a moment in connection with making the pillars and ornaments during the Gradual, the Angel keeps his central position till the end of the Gospel. He seems to be busy at this part of the Service in equilibrating and transmuting emotional and thought power, of which there is a swirl going round and round the church. The row of candles acts as a useful sieve for this purpose, and strains of much dirt, while greatly intensifying (and at the same time being intensified by ) the power from the people. This activity reacts on and further stimulates the people, and so the swirl is worked up.

During most of the Creed, the Angel is over the head of the celebrant, but towards the end, he floats high up above the Altar cross. After this, he is more at his leisure, and is receiving the reward for his work. Still, he continues to be very useful as a source of power, and busies himself in beautifying things. Although it is the directing Angel who is in charge when the whole edifice is enlarged at the Tersanctus, the building Angel is still very helpful even in this act, as he contributes so much power himself, which helps in swelling out the dome.

 

The Holy Eucharist—Preparation

Invocation

 

 

Now that the actual Service is about to begin the cope is removed from the shoulders of the celebrant and he is endued with the chasuble, the sacrificial vestment which has, from the earliest days of the Church, been reserved for the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. The meaning and use of this garment will be described in part III, "The Instruments of the Sacraments."

The Eucharist begins, as do all Services of the Church, with a Word and Sign of Power. Fully to understand the use and force of such words and signs we must study an aspect of nature which is almost wholly forgotten in modern days. We must learn that we live not in an empty and unresponsive material world, but in the midst of a vast ocean of teeming life—that we are always surrounded by a great clout of witnesses, a mighty host of beings unseen by our physical eyes. This huge army includes superhuman beings (angels of all degrees and types), the innumerable hosts of the dead (who are of course still at the human level) and incalculable millions of sub-human entities—nature-spirits, ensouled thought-forms and the like.

All these are continually influencing us, some for good and some for ill, even as we in turn are continually influencing them. Most people are entirely unconscious or derisively incredulous of all this, and so they stumble on through life unhelped; though perhaps it is also true that the barrier of their blind unbelief to some extent protects them from possible dangers. But assuredly God intends that His whole creation shall work together in His service, and that we shall avail ourselves of the many aids which He has put ready to our hands as soon as we are wise enough to understand them. In this, as in all other directions, knowledge is power, and he who will intelligently use the forces of nature may gain great advantage thereby.

Those who have studied comparative religion are aware of the vast importance attached to names; they know that according to all ancient belief the name of a thing has a direct connection with it and can invoke it anywhere. It will be remembered that in the Egyptian Book of the Dead the candidate journeying through the Hall of Amenti is met by all kinds of entities, some of them terrible in character, who bar his way and demand to be identified. If properly instructed he promptly recognizes them and says to each: "I know thee; so-and-so is thy name." Whereupon the obstructing dragon instantly subsides, and the candidate passes triumphantly on his way.

In this ancient system it is clear that to know the name of anything implied knowledge of its inmost nature, its powers and qualities. To the men of old, therefore, to command in the Name or by the Name of any manifestation of God was to draw upon the power of that manifestation. There is a good deal of truth in this idea, especially when the invocation is uttered by one who, having been linked with the source of the power, has received authority to use it. So to announce that we begin our Service in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is, in the case of the Priest, to call upon and bring into activity the special link made at his ordination, and in response there is a tremendous down-rush of force.

When a Bishop is present, these words of power are always spoken by him because of the additional layer of power which he is able to invoke. When this invocation is used by a layman, it calls upon the equivalent or representative of the Holy Trinity within himself—the Spirit, intuition and intelligence. As in the solar system everything begins and ends with the Trinity, so in the symbolism of the Eucharist we commence with an invocation addressed to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and end with a benediction in the Name of the same Three Aspects of the Deity.

The sign of power which accompanies this invocation, the sign of the holy cross, has various aspects as a symbol. The Greek cross with equal arms signifies the Logos in activity—the arm of the Lord out-stretched to help or to bless. The Latin cross with the with the longer stem typifies the Second Aspect of the Logos, the Second Person of the blessed Trinity, God the Son descended into matter. In all benedictions and exorcisms it is used to impress the will of the Priest upon the person or object with which he is dealing. It is a sign through which power flows, sometimes from the Priest to another; sometimes from on high into the Priest himself, as at certain points of the Service. When a man makes it over himself it is designed to promote self-recollectedness; to remind him of the Name which it symbolizes, and to help him to realize that where that Name is invoked we trust no evil shall ensue.

It is a kind of miniature creed expressed in action instead of in words, for as we touch first the forehead and then the solar plexus it reminds us how "for us men and for our salvation" Christ came down from the Father, who is Head over all, to this earth, to the physical plane, the lower part of His creation; while as we touch first the left shoulder and then the right, we remember that He passed from earth into the lower astral world, call hell, and typified as on the left hand of God (though even so it is higher than the earth) and proceeded thence to sit in glory for ever on the right hand of the Father.

A man whose thoughts and feelings are always on the highest possible level may not need a reminder of this sort; but most of us are not yet perfect, and therefore it is not wise to reject anything that can give us assistance. Most of us are well-intentioned but forgetful, and anything that helps us to recollect the ideal, and aids in driving away unwholesome thoughts and influences, is beneficial. We are not yet saints; we are still liable to be affected by waves of irritation or selfishness or by undesirable thoughts. The sign of the cross made over ourselves will draw round us unseen influences which will tend to drive away all that is unpleasant and at the same time make it easier to retain what is good.

To understand this power of the sign of the cross we must realize that, as I have said, we are living in the midst of a vast host of other beings. Among these, the sub-human creatures (or nature-spirits, as they are sometimes called) are peculiarly susceptible to the influence of the signs of power, of which the cross is one. Wherever that sign is made it at once attracts the attention of all such creatures in the neighbourhood, and they immediately gather round the person making the sign in the expectation that he will send out thoughts and vibrations of the type that they enjoy.

We must not confuse these nature-spirits with the Angels. If a great Angel who happened to be passing saw the sign of the cross and the good thoughts which accompanied it, he would certainly cast upon the man who made it a radiant smile which would carry a helpful influence, but he would not be likely to turn aside from his work. Nature-spirits evolve largely by means of the vibrations in which they bathe themselves, and therefore the instinct implanted in them leads them to be always watching for those which are useful to them. There are some at the stage of evolution which needs the coarser types of vibrations, which for us (but not for them) express evil or passionate thoughts or feelings.

Such creatures surge round us when we show irritability or sensuality, and their pressure encourages and strengthens whatever undesirable tendency may be manifesting itself—not in the least because these creatures are in themselves evil or wish us harm, for they are but following their instinct and gathering round a source of emanations which are pleasant to them, as flies gather round a honey-pot or men round a fire in cold weather. Others are at a stage which needs the higher vibrations which with us express good thoughts and feelings, and the sign of the cross attracts this type, just as it drives away the other. It is not so much that the latter fear it, as is generally supposed (you know how the hymn puts it: "At the sign of triumph Satan's host doth flee") the truth is rather that its radiance is distasteful to them, and they at once recognize that where that sign is made there is nothing for them; so they promptly depart in search of more hopeful pastures.

We shall be more likely to understand how these forces act if we can completely divest ourselves of childish superstitions about the devil and wicked angels and look at the whole matter from a commonsense and scientific point of view. Ethical ideas of good and evil have nothing to do with the question. The kingdom of the nature-spirits contains as much variety as the animal kingdom. Some nature-spirits, like some animals, are useful to us, while others members of both kingdoms are noxious to us, and just as we discourage, drive away or destroy rats, snakes, scorpions and parasitic vermin, so should we discourage, or drive away undesirable astral or etheric entities.

So many people are not sensible about these matters; either they are stupidly superstitious, or equally stupidly incredulous, because they cannot see the world of subtler matter which surrounds them. They cannot see the microbes of disease; yet these unseen creatures frequently influence their lives to a serious extent, and so also may the unseen astral creatures. Nature-spirits, whether helpful or harmful, respond eagerly to the oscillations which appeal to them; they reproduce them in themselves and intensify them, and so in their turn react upon us, and tend to perpetuate the conditions in us which attract them. For this reason, although ignorant people sometimes regard it as a mere superstition, the making of the sign of the cross is of definite practical value.

Note The Invocation to the Trinity, accompanied by the sign of power, causes the people to open themselves at the highest point at which they are conscious. This is the place into which power is poured when a person is to be used as a channel, and we may therefore call it "the point of entry". The three aspects of consciousness-will, wisdom and activity, at this point look like three glowing lights in the form of a triangle. The lights are of three colours—white, blue and red. The white represents will, the Power of the Father; the blue, wisdom, the Power of the Son; and the red represents activity, the Power of Holy Spirit. These glow strongly as the Three Persons of the Trinity are mentioned, and power is poured through these three principles down into the personalities of the clergy and the members of the congregation. This inflow of power of the same sort through all present tends to unify and it makes a fine show of bright light throughout the church.

Canticle

This invocation is immediately followed by the opening canticle, throughout which the attitude the people are supposed to adopt is clearly indicated; it speaks everywhere of gladness, of rejoicing and thankfulness. In the prayer: "O send out Thy light and Thy truth, that they may lead me, and bring me to Thy holy hill and to Thy dwelling," is expressed the thought that we can acceptably approach the Altar of God only if we do so in full light of truth, shrinking from none of the facts that truth may bring, and filled with such high courage and resolve that we are utterly free from fear, from cowardice, from distrust. We can never appreciate the full meaning of the Eucharist and share largely in its benefits if we are filled with fear of God who loves us.

Then we try to realize the glory and holiness of God, and that from Him comes strength and calm. So we say: "The Lord shall give strength unto His people; the Lord shall give His people the blessing of peace." The whole of the canticle is intended to lay the foundation of what is to be done later, by bringing the people into the attitude of joy, gladness, trust and peace which is necessary if they are usefully to take part in the Service; and, as usual, the antiphon gives us the keynote—the thought which we are to hold before us as we sing. The importance of adopting this correct frame of mind at the beginning of the Service cannot be exaggerated. It is probable that in the early Church the preparatory canticle was sung in procession as the clergy and choir entered the sacred building.

The canticle recited here by the celebrant and his ministers in the Roman Church contains verses which seem inappropriate and useless, so we substituted for them others which better carry out the idea. We have followed this plan in all our Service, selecting for our psalms only verses which bear some intelligible meaning, and avoiding all those which complain, grovel or curse.

While the words which we sing bear their part in the preparation of our minds, the Angel of the Eucharist is working busily, yet with graceful ease, utilizing both the forms made by the music of the canticle, and the outrush caused by our feelings of love and devotion as we sing it. With this material he lays the floor or foundation of his edifice, following first the lower part of the tenuous bubble blown by the asperges, and then turning to the east and extending his floor away behind the Altar, till he has produced a pavement double the size of that upon which the congregation stand. (See Plate 5.) His work is conditioned by the number of the people present, and the amount and type of vivified matter with which their enthusiasm supplies him.

 

If the church be full, he usually follows its ground-plan as an outline for his pavement; if it be only half-full, he does not necessarily include the whole space, but may very likely bring his flooring to an end just behind the rearmost member of his congregation. Whatever may be its extension westward from the Altar, he always carries it equally far in the opposite direction behind the Altar, which invariably marks the central point of the completed form. If sufficient material is supplied, he often broadens his edifice northward and southward, in which case it occasionally becomes cruciform, though more often square, and approximating closely to the basilica shape already mentioned.

The depth of the foundation depends upon the material available; at a well-attended High Celebration the pavement may be as much as a yard in thickness, its upper surface coinciding with the floor of the church. Its design is always the same—a mosaic of blue and crimson blocks set diagonally, so as to present the appearance of lozenges of diamonds. where, at the edges, the thickness of the pavement is seen, it exhibits a tessellated border of alternate triangles of the same colours, suggesting that the blocks used in its construction are not cubes, but pyramids. (See Plate 6.) The crimson and blue are expressive of love and devotion respectively, and the hues vary according to the character of these emotions. Usually we get deep rich colours; but where the congregation includes many instructed and unselfish people, radiant and delicate tints of azure and rose may be seen.

The Angel begins by extending his arms sideways and pouring out through them a current of love which makes a crimson line on each side from where he stands to the wall of the church. Sweeping his arms slowly forward, he causes a number of parallel lines to shoot out from the side of the original, like the teeth of a comb, except that they are inclined towards the centre of the church, so that they cross one another to make the diagonal pattern. (See Diagram 1.) Another similar movement throws out a blue current of devotion, which fills the spaces left by the crimson of love. then he turns to the east and repeats these movements so as to make a similar pavement for that part of the eucharistic form which is outside the church.

These first movements produce a tenuous cobweb-like chequering, and veritable ghost of a floor, so light and diaphanous that it could not be held together except within the bubble which has pushed back the chaos of jarring vibrations which would have shattered its delicacy. but the floor rapidly solidifies as the verses of the canticle peal out, and it is interesting to notice that, where the verses are sung antiphonally, the Angel diverts the alternating outrush of sound, and employs it to mark the diagonal lines which carve his flooring material into diamonds, or rather pyramids. (See Plate 6.) At a Low Celebration the edifice is often but small, and the colouring of the pavement dull; but the pattern is always preserved.

It must be understood that a Low Celebration is perfectly effective in calling down the divine force and spreading it abroad over the neighbourhood, though naturally the power at a High Celebration is in various ways far greater. The ceremony is surrounded with glory and beauty, which are intended to stir up the hearts and minds of the people and make them more receptive. Then the attendance is usually much larger—a factor which is of great importance. The consecration and the quality of the radiation coming from the sacred Host are of course the same in every case; but if there be more who feel devotion, the quantity of radiation will be greater, because an additional amount of that divine force is called into play by that extra devotion.

I feel it to be of the greatest importance that we should realize that this divine force is a reality—a definite, scientific, fact. this spiritual force, which is oftentimes spoken of as the grace of God, is just as definite as is steam or electricity or any other of the great forces of nature. It works in matter somewhat higher than does electricity, and it is not evident to the physical eye in its results, but nevertheless it is as real in every way, and indeed is much more powerful, in that it works rather upon the soul, the mind, the emotions in man than merely upon his physical body. Truly in this most holy Eucharist it is brought down even to the physical level for us—so great is the care of our Lord for His people, so anxious is He that we should have every help that we are able to receive.

Its outpouring is a scientifically measurable thing; not measurable perhaps by physical-plane methods, but capable of measurement and comparison with other outpourings in higher worlds. Its distribution takes place under precisely the same divine laws as does a radiation on this plane, allowing for certain differences caused by the more rapid vibrations of matter in a higher state.

For example, the playing of the force invoked at the ceremony of the Eucharist may be compared not inaptly to the flowing of a current of electricity. The voltage of a current running through a wire remaining constant, the amount of light obtained depends upon the number of lamps turned on. If we imagine that the current flowing in the wire comes from an inexhaustible source and can meet any demands upon it, it is evident that we are free to add any number of lamps, and we shall thereby gain a blaze of light.

In the Service of the Eucharist each person who co-operates intelligently resembles a lamp, and with the addition of each such person the channel for the flow of the current becomes wider and fuller. A small congregation of fifty people, each one of whom understands the purpose of the Service and knows exactly what each part is planned to do, can send out as much light over the surrounding district as a large but ignorant congregation of many thousands gathered together in some great cathedral. The size of the assembly unquestionably does help, because as more people are sending up their devotion there is more width in the channel; but when to devotion is added intelligence and the will to serve, the result is enormously greater.

When a spire of devotion shoots up from a congregation the height and brilliance of it marks the intensity of the devotion, while its diameter indicates the quantity of the emotion. A broad but short and barrel-like spire, somewhat dull in colour, would show that a great mass of rather ignorant devotion had been felt, not keenly but rather as a matter of custom. If the people are stirred with a really deep, strong feeling, a great spire of brilliant blue rushes upward over their heads, and in such a case the down-pouring in response is in exact proportion to the upward rush. The object of a Church Service is to make a channel through which the divine force can flow. The greater the number of people who attend, the more enthusiastic and devotional they are, the greater is the channel for divine power. In this sense it is a Service of God, because by gathering together we form a greater and better channel for His love and blessing, which He is ever yearning to shed over the world.

We may ask: "But why can He not pour that out for Himself always?" He does do so; but remember that He works, as we also must work, along the line of least resistance. He floods the higher worlds with spiritual power, but to bring that spiritual power down here to our physical brains and astral bodies would be an exertion of force which would not be justified by the results produced, if He had to do the whole thing Himself. But if we co-operate and do the lower part of this work by making ourselves channels for that down-pouring, then at once it does become worth while to pour forth that force. People are not necessarily fulfilling the whole duty of the earnest Christian merely by sitting in their seats and enjoying the uplift of the ceremony. If they wish they can greatly augment the power of the Service and enlarge the sphere of its influence.

It should not be for ourselves but for the sake of others that we join such an organization as the Church, which exists to do good. It is of course true that we receive great benefit in so joining, but the less we think about the benefit that we are receiving, and the more we think about the help we are able to give, the better for ourselves and the organization to which we belong. People should come to the Service because they wish to be helpful. Those who come regularly regardless of the weather, and throw themselves heartily into the Service, are the people who make the Eucharist a living force. This is especially true when they have studied the ritual carefully and are therefore in a position intelligently to co-operate with the celebrant.

When a celebrant happens to be sensitive, and has behind him a congregation who are working with him, he can usually feel the force generated by their thought swirling up behind and around him like a strong wind. When it comes it gives the curious electrical feeling which may sometimes be noted when in the midst of a great crowd swayed by some strong emotion. The celebrant, however, is like the captain of a ship or the conductor of an orchestra, and just as a captain must not lose his head when his passengers become stirred with excitement, so must the celebrant retain full control of his emotions in order to use this helpful force generated by the congregation. He must not only direct the forces, but must watch exactly what is being done by his lieutenants, so that if someone does not do the right thing at the right time, he may supply the deficiency immediately by throwing in additional force and helping in any way possible.

Again, at a High Celebration we have the almost incalculable advantage of the use of music. We have already said that the ordered vibrations of sound vivify vast volumes of matter, and so provide the Angel of the Eucharist with much magnificent material for his structure; but there is far more than that, though it is difficult to find words to describe it, and this is not the place for a lengthy disquisition on so recondite a subject. Let us put it that the earth is a great intelligence, and that music is one of her faculties—that when we play or sing we are helping the earth to express herself; furthermore that music is a sort of entity or congeries of entities, and that when we use it we are bringing into play an entirely new set of forces, another side of Nature, and associating with us in our work a host of great Music-Angels. We cannot turn aside to give details here; but even so slight a hint will afford a passing glimpse along a mighty vista—enough to show that there is excellent reason for introducing music into our Services whenever it is in any way possible.

These considerations apply also to a Missa Cantata; but at a High Celebration we have in addition the aid of the deacon and subdeacon, who make a triangle with the celebrant, and for the time act as extensions of his consciousness; relieving him of some aspects of his work, and leaving him free to concentrate his energies. Some of the forces employed radiate through them, and are intensified by their presence and their action. It is their business to act as intermediaries, both in the collection and distribution of energy—a task which is thereby more easily and efficiently performed. (Diagram 2.)

To make their function clear we may use the analogy of the human body. If the celebrant is compared to the brain, then the deacon and subdeacon are ganglia having certain tracts under their charge; the brain of course directs the ganglia, but there are things which they can do without the brain. Originally, in the early Church, the deacon and subdeacon represented the men and women respectively, because the deacon stood on the right of the Priest, that is to say, on the epistle side where the men sat, and gathered up all the devotion from the men and prepared it for the use of the Priest, whereas the subdeacon did the same for the ladies. there are still some churches in which the sexes are separated, but I do not know that there is any special advantage in it, except that, if the numbers are at all equal, it produces a pleasing effect in antiphonal singing.

The rush of devotion, aspiration, love and worship form the congregation pours upon the Priest in a flood of diverse vibrations, and it is no easy task to reduce them all to a kind of common denominator, so that they may conveniently be forwarded. The deacon and subdeacon may receive these from the people, and to a large extent sift and combine them as they pass through into the hands of the Priest, thus saving him much trouble.

For the shortened from of the Holy Eucharist we have chosen a canticle which refers more directly to the work which the Angel is doing in laying the foundation of his edifice. It is preceded by an invitation from the Priest, who says:

Brethren, let us now lay the foundation of our Temple.

Antiphon.

Christ is our foundation.

And our chief corner-stone.

We are no more strangers and foreigners: but fellow-citizens with the saints and of the household of God;

And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets: Jesus Christ Himself being the chief corner-stone:

In whom all the building fitly framed together: groweth into a holy temple in the Lord;

In whom ye also are builded together; for an habitation of God through the Spirit.

Except the Lord build the house: their labour is but lost that built it.

The foundation of God standeth sure, having his seal: let every one that nameth the Name of Christ depart from iniquity.

Antiphon.

Christ is our foundation.

And our chief corner-stone.

Note< The colon in the middle of each line of the canticle marks a change of direction of the alternating diagonal currents, which make the blue and crimson tessellated pavement over which our edifice is to be built. Thus, if, during the first part of the verse, the lines had been running between the south-west and the north-east corners, during the second half they would flow between the south-east and north-west. but during each half, the power might run backwards and forwards several times—depending on the number of beats in the rhythmic metre of the particular half-verse. The Gloria at the end, finishes off the pavement, planes off the edges, and leaves all tidy. The mention of the Three Persons of the Trinity makes the three lights at each person's point of entry glow afresh.

 

Versicles

We now come to a further stage of our preparation for the great work we are about to undertake. We have endeavoured to purify the mental atmosphere by casting out wandering thoughts, and to bring ourselves into the attitude of strength, peace, and joy, which is needed if we are to do our work well. Certain mechanical difficulties may, however, still remain in our way; we must try to remove these also. But that can be expeditiously achieved only by means of special help from without, and so we proceed to apply the method designed by Christ for His Church—that of confession and absolution.

The versicles which introduce this portion of the Service are intended to induce a frame of mind which will facilitate the action of this plan. First we acknowledge that it is only by divine power that this speedy result can be obtained (for here again Name is equivalent to Power), but we remind ourselves that to the almighty Creator of heaven and earth this rapid change is a simple matter. And so we sign ourselves with the sign of the cross that by its action we may bring ourselves closer to Him. Because we have somewhat slipped away from Him, from the attitude of utter love, peace, comprehension and unity, and so are to that extent restricted as channels of spiritual force, we ask in the words: "Turn us again, O Lord, and quicken us," that He bring us again to the path of right endeavour, and that He vivify us with His radiant life. Without this renewed life we cannot experience the deep joy which is necessary if we are to take full advantage of the Sacrifice which is to follow.

Then to emphasize our utter confidence in His power and goodwill, we say: "Trust ye in the Lord for ever; for our Rock of Ages is the Lord." The very possibility of rapid readjustment depends upon our absolute conviction that it can be done. If we are in doubt on that matter, that very doubt erects a barrier, and prevents the free action of the force. The divine power is ready, but we must open our hearts. Let us then examine the system of rectification by confession and absolution, and see how it works.

Confiteor

The form employed in the Roman Church begins with the word Confiteor, "I confess"; hence the name. The purpose of this confession is to help the people to self-recollectedness, and to bring them into that attitude of mind which is necessary if they are to be assisted by the absolution that follows immediately after. The wording of the Confiteor used in the Liberal Catholic ritual is to a certain extent original, and (as will be seen) it differs widely in tone from that used by the Roman or Anglican Churches. The Roman confession: "I have sinned exceedingly, in thought, word and deed; through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault"; the Anglican remark: "There is no health in us," which, however, does not occur in the Service for Holy Communion, but in Matins and Evensong and other similar statements, are exaggerations, and do not represent what a normal person really feels. No sane and rational man ever feels actually that he is altogether evil, and to put such words into his mouth either turns him into a hypocrite, or gives him an entirely misleading conception of human nature.

This constant reiteration of the inherent wickedness of the human heart probably arose in early Christianity as a reaction against certain excesses which marred the civilizations in the midst of which that faith took root. The greatest of the civilizations with which the new religion had to deal were those of Greece and Egypt. Both of these were eminently same and reasonable. The Greek, for example worshipped beauty, and was full of the joy of life. He was well aware that there were higher planes and lower planes, heaven and earth, but he maintained that God made the lower as well as the higher, and that while we are in the lower He intends us to make the best of it and to enjoy life to the utmost, so long as we do our duty to God and to our fellow-men.

As these ancient and wonderful civilizations decayed, undoubtedly excesses arose, and in the seeking for beauty the good was sometimes forgotten. These excesses were abhorrent to the early Christians, and, setting up the ideal of asceticism, they swung to the opposite extreme in their thinking, and condemned as evil everything pertaining to the world and to physical life.

Such exaggerations are unwholesome and unnecessary as the Lord Buddha taught long ago, the Middle Path of reason is always the safest, and undue asceticism on the one hand is just as dangerous and unnatural as undue indulgence on the other; and hence we have carefully avoided in the wording of the confession any statements to which we could not honestly subscribe. We have used the words of St. Augustine, who said that God made us for Himself, and our hearts therefore are ever restless until they find their rest in Him. Whenever we fall away from that which we know to be right, as we all do more or less through carelessness or forgetfulness, we are uncomfortable until things are put right again, because we know that we have made a mistake. We are always unhappy when we wander from the path, even though we may not realize the cause of the unhappiness.

We say that He created man in His own image—the image of His own eternity, a beautiful thought taken from the Wisdom of Solomon (ii, 23). Since we are thus a reproduction of Him, we ought always to keep close to Him, in the full light of His power and His love; but on account of our ignorance and our error we shut ourselves away from Him. The purpose of the confession is to remove the mental attitude which shuts us away, and to substitute in its stead an open and receptive condition of the whole man, so that the light of God may enter. The confession does not directly affect the eucharistic edifice which we are building, though it is an important factor in preparing us to build it. Let us see how the absolution which follows it achieves it results.

Note Here for the first time the congregation are speaking together with the celebrant, so perhaps it is a good place to point our that all through the Service, whenever all thus join in, no individual should raise his voice above that of the officiating Priest in such a way as to attempt to alter the speed, emphasis, or intonation with which the part of the Service in question is being said. Apart from the propriety of the matter, there is a very good reason for this. The material with which we are building our form is simply matter which is vivified by the vibrations of the people's emotions and the outpouring in response to these. It is, therefore, the rhythm and swing of the whole, which is harmonized into one by the Angel, that is the very substance of its existence—the first pre-requisite for a form at all. Now the Priest in charge is the physical-plane center for harmonizing these vibrations and welding them into one by giving them a definite note. Being this physical-plane centre, he will best appreciate the rhythm suited to the particular day of the calendar and the congregation with which he is working, and will then interpret it in terms of his own, with which the angel will co-operate. Thus the celebrant and Angel will be working together, establishing a strong regular vibration, with which our edifice may be constructed. But if there be all sorts of extraneous influences, setting up different beats of their own, which sound above the central one, there will be a jarring of cross-currents which will neutralize each other, so leaving but little rhythm for vivifying our building material. There must be a leader and the celebrant must be that leader.

We find that during the first two clauses of the Confiteor there is a fine outpouring of very delicately coloured and spiritualized influence over the people. As the Confession proceeds, this sinks into them and helps to bring them into the required attitude, which is that of a mind firmly set on living-up to a higher ideal. As this acts upon them, their love streams up to the Embodiment of all true ideals, and so renders them fit for the absolution.

Absolution

The Priest rises, goes up to the Altar, turns towards the people, and pronounces the absolution.

 

To understand the effect of absolution we must first explain that the ideas usually associated with the forgiveness of sin are wholly false and misleading. The common conception seems to be that God, having made man and therefore knowing his capacities and exactly what he is likely to do under any circumstances, nevertheless turns His back upon him and is offended with him whenever he does what a calculation of averages would lead us to expect from the ordinary man. It is the same confusion that perpetually confronts the inquirer into Christianity. If Christians would only drop the primitive Jewish notion of a jealous and vengeful tribal deity, and accept the teaching of their leader, Christ, most of these misconceptions would immediately disappear.

I am quite sure that many thoughtful Christians are much better than their creed, and do not really in their hearts hold so low an opinion of the Deity as their words seem to imply. there is much truth in the saying of the late colonel Ingersoll that "man makes his God in his own image"; as man evolves, his conception of God becomes truer and nobler; as he gradually outgrows his coarser vices, he ceases to attribute them to his God, and looks back upon the savage taboo-ethic of his forefathers as crude and blasphemous. I suppose we may concede that the theory that God is angry when man blunders, that He needs to be placated and supplicated to forgive, is a coarse and materialistic way of stating a certain law of Nature; but it is open to the terribly serious objection that it gives the man an altogether wrong and degrading conception of God, and makes it impossible for him to adopt towards his Deity the only attitude which renders progress practicable for him.

No one in his senses could suppose that God cherishes animosity against His people. The whole idea that a person who has done wrong needs to be forgiven should be put altogether out of our minds, because to say that God has to forgive a man, implies that if he were not forgiven God would hold a grudge against that man. That is a thing which no one has a right to say about the Divine Father. God holds no grudge against any man. On the contrary He is always waiting to help, just as the sun is always shining. The sun is not holding a grudge against us when a passing cloud shuts away his light and warmth. The sunlight is always there, and all we need do is to wait for the passing of the cloud.

The God who has hung our solar system in space, and has poured His own life into it that we and His other creatures might come into being, superintends the progress of that tremendous Experiment with benevolent, paternal interests. He knows far more about us than we ourselves can know; He understands our strength and our weakness, and he could no more be angry with us than we can be angry with a flower in our garden. But He watches our growth, and puts various aids in our way; perhaps it pleases Him when we understand and take advantage of them, but even if we do not, the support of His helping hand is never far from us, else we should speedily cease to be.

It is the attention of God which keeps His system in existence; if for one moment He withdrew it, it would instantly be resolved into the bubbles of which it is built. And this attention shows itself down here on lower planes as a force, or rather a number of forces. It is difficult to put these conceptions into words without hopelessly materializing them; yet it is better to over-materialize them than to be altogether ignorant of their beauty and their glory.

Let us try to make clear what really happens when a man commits what is commonly called a sin. Sin is anything that is against the current of evolution. If a man intentionally does something to hold back evolution, either his own or that of somebody else, then emphatically he is doing wrong. But I doubt whether a man ever does evil for evil's sake, except perhaps in very rare cases, such as the German atrocities, many of which were committed deliberately, cold-blooded and to order, with the avowed object of terrifying non-combatants into submission by an exhibition if inhuman cruelty.

Usually what is called sin arises from one of two things: either a man is ignorant and makes mistakes, or he is careless and selfish and not sufficiently attentive to the consequences of his acts. If a man really understood fully what he was doing when he sinned, he would not do it. Much wrong-doing comes from avarice, from the desire for money. That is because misers do not know any better; to them money is of first importance. A vast amount of harm comes from animal passion. Once more, sensualists are ignorant and selfish, and do not really understand the harm they are doing to others and to themselves. The way to banish evil is to increase wisdom, as the Lord Buddha preached in India two thousand five hundred years ago.

Let us accept, then, the definition of a sin or transgression as any thought, word or act which is not in harmony with God's Will for man—that is, evolution. Instead of progression it is transgression, not a movement forward with the evolutionary force, but across the line of its flow. That divine Will acts as a steady pressure upward and onward, and actually does produce in higher matter (even down to the etheric level) a sort of tension which can be described in words only as a tendency towards movement in a definite direction— the flowing of a spiritual stream. When a man's thoughts, words and actions are good, he lays himself more fully open to this influence; he is permeated by it and carried along by it.

When he does or thinks evil, he wrenches himself away from the direction of this spiritual current, and thereby sets up a definite strain in etheric, astral and mental matter, so that he is no longer in harmony with nature, no longer a helping but a hindering force, a snag in the river of life. This strain, or cross-twist, almost entirely arrests his progress for the time, and renders it impossible for him to profit by all the impulses of good influence which are constantly rushing along the current of the stream of which we have spoken. Before he can do any real good for himself or anyone else, he must straighten out that distortion and come into harmony with nature, and so be once more fully amenable to good influence and able to take advantage of the many and valuable aids which are so lavishly provided for him.

The various vehicles of man are not really separated in space, for the finer types of matter always interpenetrate the grosser. But looked at from below they give the impression of being one above the other, and also of being joined by innumerable fine wires or lines of fire. Every action which works against evolution puts an unequal strain on these—twists and entangles them. When a man goes badly wrong in any way the confusion becomes such that communication between the higher and lower bodies is seriously impeded; he is no longer his real self, and only the lower side of his character is able to manifest itself fully.

It must be clearly understood that in the long, slow course of evolution the natural forces are perfectly capable of righting this unfortunate condition of affairs. The steady pressure of the current will presently wear away the obstacle, but a period of many months or even years may elapse before the readjustment is fully effected, though earnest effort on the man's own part will somewhat shorten this period. But even then there is a certain tendency for the distortion to reassert itself.

It is therefore obviously to the man's interest that he should discover some more rapid method of regaining uniformity. Such a method the Church provides, for the power of straightening out this tangle in higher matter is one of those specially conferred upon a priest at ordination. The Christ Himself spoke of that power in the plainest words, though people usually shirk them or try to explain them away, just because they have encumbered their minds with the idea of an emotional forgiveness, and cannot understand that we have to deal with a straightforward scientific process.

But the Priest cannot perform this wonderful miracle of healing alone; he needs the co-operation of his patient. No one can force a man into harmony if he is persistently striving for disharmony; it is only "If we confess our sins" that "He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness". It is requisite that the candidate be anxious to rise above the imperfections of his nature, and to live the higher life. At all her principal Services, the Church provides a form of general confession to be recited by her people, and a form of absolution to be pronounced by the Priest; and if any man in the congregation is truly sorry for some slip or mistake which he has made, and earnestly anxious to put himself once more in full accord with the evolutionary current, there is no doubt that the divine force which flows through the Priest when he pronounces the absolution does rush through that man's higher vehicles, combs out the entanglement, and straightens the twisted lines until he is once more in perfect harmony with God's will.

The Priest pours out the absolving force over his congregation, and does not know upon whom or in what direction it is taking effect; but if an individual comes to him privately and tells him exactly what is wrong, he has perhaps a certain advantage in being able to concentrate the whole of the force just where it is most needed. Also, quite apart from the power conferred upon him, the Priest can often from his experience offer very useful advice.

But let no one suppose that the public absolution given to the whole flock is in any way less effective than private absolution, if the desire for rectification on the part of the wrong-doer is equally earnest and sincere. As has been said, in the slow process of time the distortion must come straight, under the influence of the ordinary evolutionary forces; and no doubt this procedure would be hastened by the strong desire of the patient for readjustment. The action of the Priest in the matter is merely what is commonly called a "means of grace"—that is to say, a little help on the road of evolution provided by the Christ for His followers.

In the Liberal Catholic Church auricular confession is entirely optional, and is not required as a preliminary to the reception of Holy Communion. Its frequent and systematic practice is not encouraged, since it is felt that under such conditions the detailed confession is apt to become a matter of routine, and its spiritual value in the life of the individual thereby defeated. For all ordinary purposes the general confession in the Holy Eucharist should suffice.

It must be clearly understood that the effect of absolution is strictly limited to the correction of the distortion above described. It reopens certain channels which have been to a large extent closed by evil thought or action; but it in no way counteracts the physical consequences of that action, nor does it obviate the necessity of restitution where wrong has been done.

A man who steals, for example, puts himself in the wrong in three separate ways: he has broken the divine law of love and justice, and has thereby cut himself off from full and free communication with the higher side of nature; he has broken the laws of his country; and he has wronged the individual from whom he stole. If he fully comprehends the mistake that he has made, and is genuinely anxious to correct it, the Priest's absolution will straighten out for him the etheric, astral and mental entanglement which was produced by his action, or rather by the mental attitude which made that action possible; but it does not relieve him from the legal penalty of that action, nor from the duty of instantly and fully restoring what he has stolen.

Intoxication is a temptation to men at a low stage of development; one who succumbs to it is undoubtedly sadly in need of the help of absolution to remove the barriers which he has erected between himself and the sunlight of God's grace; but by yielding he has also weakened his will and injured his physical health, and he must not expect that absolution will either strengthen the one or restore the other. The Sacrament puts the man right with God; but it does not relieve his from the responsibility for his acts, nor in any way affect their physical consequences.

It is a spiritual process, a loosening from the bondage of sin, a process of at-one-ment with the Higher Self, a restoration of the inner harmony of being which is distributed by wrong-doing, so that the man can make a fresh effort towards righteousness, fortified by the uninterrupted flow of the divine power within him. A man cannot escape the consequences of his misdeeds, though he can neutralize them by sowing fresh causes of a righteous kind. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

Note When the celebrant makes the first cross, the blessing of the Lord, which flows into them to some extent, puts all their bodies into order and straightens things out in the personality. As he recites the words "the Lord in His loving kindness look down upon you and be gracious unto you," the Priest is working at the level where the Lord looks down upon us as a unity—the buddhic plane—where we receive His Graciousness in so generous a measure. Here the celebrant is one with his congregation, and at this high level, having tried to draw them all up into himself, he pours a rush of force down into their lower vehicles, that a take the image of their higher selves (already made brighter and truer reflections of the Great Self by the outpouring in the Confiteor and at the first blessing in the absolution) and, through their points of entry, stamps this down upon the personality, thereby not only affecting that personality, but also clearing the channel connecting it with the Greater Self. The power of God stimulates the Divine Image within each of us to impress Itself more definitely on the personality, and in forcing itself down it clears out any kinks in the connection channel between the lower and higher selves—between the individual and God. Thus the Life of the Logos—the evolutionary stream—can again flow smoothly through the man. He is no longer a snag in the stream, because he has been put right in his relation with his Maker.

This is a wonderful help, but remember that the absolution goes no further than this. It is not well to use the expression that the man is forgiven or pardoned because God is never in such an attitude towards us that we could speak of His needing to change it from offence to pardon. He made us what we are, and He is not angry with us because we are still in the lower stages of our evolution. To speak of anger in Him is a very gross misunderstanding; indeed, such a supposition is in truth a blasphemy.

A better way to put it is to say that, as we have tipped the balance one way, it will swing back again, and we must bear the consequences of our act. The absolution cannot negate the law of cause and effect. What it can and does do is to straighten out the confusion for us, and give us strength which we may use to go on and do better ,thereby setting in motion other causes for good, which may neutralize or mitigate the result of our misdeeds. This is the only kind of penitence which is of any use; contrition and remorse are really in themselves only additional wrong, and are often excuses for turning our thoughts entirely upon ourselves, in the belief that we are doing it for higher purposes. Thus we waste energy which should be spent in His service, and often harm the people around us; for the vibrations which we send out in this condition are very likely to produce depression, selfishness and irritability in others. No one has any right to do this; it is in reality an anti-social form of self-indulgence and therefore in itself a crime.

The Censing

Next comes the beautiful ceremony of the censing of the Altar, which requires a few words of explanation. It comes down to us from the early days of the Church, and is mentioned by Origen himself. The use of incense is full of significance. It is at the same time symbolic, honorific and purificatory. It ascends before God, as a symbol of the prayers and devotion of the people; but also it spreads through the church as a symbol of the sweet savour of the blessing of God. It is offered as a mark of respect, as it was in many of the older religions; but it is also used with a definite idea of purification, and so the Priest pours into it a holy influence with the intention that wherever its scent may penetrate, wherever the smallest particle of that which has been blessed may pass, it shall bear with it a sense of peace and purity, and shall chase away all inharmonious thoughts and feelings

Even apart from the blessing, its influence is good, for it is carefully compounded from certain gums, the undulation-rate of which harmonizes perfectly with spiritual and devotional vibrations, but is distinctly hostile to almost all others. The magnetization may merely intensify its natural characteristics, or may add to it other special oscillations, but in any case its use in connection with religious ceremonies is always desirable. The scent of sandalwood has many of the same properties; and the scent of pure attar of roses, though utterly different in character, has also a good effect.

More than a hundred varieties of incense are known, and each of the ingredients employed has its own special influence on the higher bodies of man. There is a science of perfumes, and evil powers as well as good may be invoked by such means. Nearly all the incenses prepared for church use contain a large proportion of benzoin and olibanum, as experience has shown that these are both pleasing and effective. Benzoin is almost savagely ascetic and purifying; it deals trenchantly with all the grosser forms of impure thought, and is excellent for use in a great cathedral crowded with somewhat undeveloped individual. For smaller assemblies of less bucolic minds it needs a large admixture of other elements to produce the best results. Olibanum is the special incense of devotion; its fragrance tends strongly to awaken that feeling in those who are at all capable of it, and to deepen and intensify it where it already exists. A judicious mixture of these two gums is found satisfactory in practice, so it is frequently employed as a basis or central stock, to which other less important flavourings may be added.

When the thurifer and the boat-bearer approach, the celebrant ladles some incense into the censer, and solemnly blesses it, saying: "Be thou blessed by Him in whose honour thou shalt be burned." If a Bishop be present, it is better that he should bless it, as he can put a little additional power into it which is not at the command of the Priest. While blessing the incense, the best intention to hold in mind is that it may clear the way, may pierce through and polarize everything with which it comes into contact. The thought which I myself hold in mind while blessing incense is that it may "make straight the way of the Lord."

It has been asked whether it would not be possible to bless the whole boat of incense before hand, instead of merely that which is used to charge the censer. It would not be nearly so effective, because incense does not retain the full magnetism for an indefinite period, as a precious stone would. It is better then to bless each time that portion of incense which has just been placed upon the glowing charcoal, for in that way the magnetism is impressed upon it at the moment of its melting, when it can penetrate most thoroughly, and so the best effect is obtained.

After this is done the celebrant proceeds to the censing of the Altar. By so doing he seeks to permeate the whole Altar and the atmosphere round it with high and holy influence, and to carry to higher planes the preparatory process which has already been performed for the etherical level at the Asperges. The Altar is going to be the centre of a tremendous radiation, and it is necessary so to prepare it that it will not drain away any of the forces which it should transmit. If it were not censed, a certain proportion of the force which comes at the time of the Consecration would be spent in getting the particles of the Altar into order for this transmission, in order that the force might be properly distributed. The plan of censing the Altar is good, since it spreads the magnetism very fully and accurately through the Altar itself and everywhere upon it.

The middle line of the Altar, upon which are placed the Host and the Cross, is the direction down which the force of the Consecration will flow, and it is therefore necessary first of all to cense that and clear the way.

We have adopted with slight modifications the Roman order in the censing, but we give nine swings to the cross, arranged in groups of three, which is better for the purpose than the three double swings of the Roman Church. In that act we show the highest honour in our power to all that the cross typifies—the Christ Himself and the great Sacrifice which brought forth the universe. Also this nine-fold swing has a special and beautiful significance, for it symbolizes the offering to the Triune God of the threefold man whom He has made in His own image; it shows that we dedicate "ourselves, our souls and bodies" (which is the Christian phrase for what students call the Monad, the ego and the personality) to each Person of the Blessed Trinity in turn. As the Priest performs this action, each member of the congregation should mentally make this total surrender in his own case, thereby awakening within himself all that as yet can be aroused in each of these departments, and preparing himself to take part in the Kyrie later. As the Priest takes the censer from the deacon he turns and genuflects, saying silently: "To the Father I dedicate (as he swings the censer three times) (1) spirit, (2) soul, (3) bodies"; then there is a momentary pause, and in that pause before the second set of swings he says to himself: "To the Son I dedicate (as he makes the three swings) spirit, soul, bodies"; and then as he pauses before the third set of swings he says silently: "To the Holy Ghost I dedicate (as he makes the swings) spirit, soul, bodies." Then he genuflects and turns to the candlesticks on the southern or Epistle side of the Altar and censes each one with a single swing of the censer (Diagram 8), which not only magnetizes each candle, but also that portion of the surface of the Altar covered by the sweep of the censer. In doing this, the Priest should think in turn of each of the seven Rays, which are represented by the six candles and the cross—or, perhaps more accurately, the light before the cross, which may be regarded as a kind of extension of it.

Since this is emphatically a religion of the Christ, the Head of the second Ray, and the Latin cross is His especial symbol, the Altar-cross represents to us the second Ray, and in swinging the censer towards it, we are worshipping the Holy Trinity "through Christ our Lord," as we say so often in our prayers. The first candle censed (the nearest to the cross on the southern side) represents the first Ray; the next represents the fourth, and the outside candle the fifth Ray. On the gospel side the candle nearest to the cross denotes the seventh Ray (that now becoming dominant in the world), the next stands for the third, and the last for the sixth Ray. The assignment of the candles to these particular Rays is in harmony with the arrangement of the jewels in the Altar-stone which is advocated in Part III, and the relation between them will be made clear by Diagram 8.

In censing each candle, the Priest should think of the Ray with which it is associated, offering worship to God along that particular line, and the people also should have in mind the same thought as far as they are able. This means what is really a kind of double thought—a resolve to try to develop within oneself the quality specially belonging to that Ray, and at the same time to dedicate to God's service whatever one possesses of that quality. For our present purpose the characteristics of the Rays, and the aspirations that we should offer, may be expressed as follows:

·          Strength	"I will be strong, brave, persevering in His service."
·          Wisdom	" I will attain that intuitional wisdom which can be developed only through perfect love."
·          Adaptability or Tact	"I will try to gain the power of saying and doing just the right thing at the right moment—of meeting each man on his own ground, in order to help him more efficiently."
·          Beauty and Harmony	"So far as I can, I will bring beauty and harmony into my life and surroundings that they may be more worthy of Him; I will learn to see beauty in all Nature, that so I may server Him better."
·          Science (detailed knowledge)	"I will gain knowledge and accuracy, that I may devote to them to His work."
·          Devotion	"I will unfold within myself the mighty power of devotion, that through it I may bring others to Him."
·          Ordered Service (ceremonial which invokes angelic help)	"I will so order and arrange my service of God along the lines which He has prescribes, that I may be able fully to take advantage of the loving help which His holy Angels are always waiting to render."

 

It is obviously impossible to think all this within the time occupied by a single swing of the censer, so it may be suggested that when the Priest genuflects after having censed the cross, he should say to himself: "for His service I will unfold within myself" (as he censes the candles in order) "(1) Strength, (4) Harmony, (5) Knowledge."

Next he censes the southern corner of the Altar, both below and above (Diagram 3), and in doing so he should take care to reach well round the side. During this and the next operation he holds firmly the thought: "May His strength make a sure shield for His grace. " Then the edge and top of the Altar are censed, including any vases standing upon it. As he genuflects on reaching the middle point, he thinks again: "for His service I will unfold within myself" (as he censes the candles) "(7) Order, (3) Adaptability, (6) Devotion." Then, as he deals with the northern or Gospel corner, edge and top in a similar manner, he returns to the previous idea of making so strong a swirl of force that nothing can interfere with it, using the same words as on the southern side, and holding that thought as he censes the lower part of the Altar on both sides. when there are only two candles, as at private celebrations, the Priest should cense each candle three times, holding the same thoughts as directed above.

In this way the whole Altar is surrounded by a shell of powerful magnetism, which produces an effect upon its material, and that of the objects upon it, which is not unlike the magnetization of an iron rod. By this same action the block of either surrounding the Altar is separated off from the rest; it does not join for the time being in the general etheric circulation; being especially polarized, it remains like an eddy—- still an elastic body, though held apart for a while in the neighbourhood of the Altar, until in the second censing it is further extended. If we think of the Host as one pole of a magnet (the other pole of which is the Christ Himself), then this etheric eddy is the magnetic field surrounding it. Just as the space within the eucharistic edifice is for the time being walled in from the outer world, so is the magnetic field round the Altar temporarily walled in from the church in turn—a Holy of Holies within the Temple. To change the simile—if the church, or rather the eucharistic edifice, be imaged as a power-house, the etheric eddy round the Altar is the dynamo, and the celebrant the engineer in charge. As a sign that he is so set apart and associated with this innermost sanctum, he, and he alone, is also censed at this stage.

Here we meet another of the many advantages of High over the ordinary Low Celebration. It will be readily understood that it is desirable to reserve this magnetic field exclusively for the reception and storage of the force from on high, and to have as little as possible of any other action than that going on within it. It is the business of the celebrant, who is necessarily inside the reserved area, to receive the contributions of force generated by the devotion and gratitude of his people, and speed them on their upward way. but they are of very varied quality and power, and they need harmonizing, co-ordinating, purifying, often even to a considerable extent transmuting, before he can employ them to the best possible advantage, and weld them into such a stream as will evoke every ounce of power that they can draw down from the illimitable divine storehouse.

This work of sorting, arranging and filtering absorbs a good deal of the celebrant's energy (even though he maybe unconscious of it) and inevitably creates friction and disturbance within the etheric field. All this is avoided at a High Celebration, because, as I have already said, the contributions of the people flow through the deacon and the subdeacon; the straining and sorting is done by them outside the casket, and they deliver the steady, purified streams of force to the celebrant, who is thus enabled to maintain inside the shell a far higher level of efficiency. Indeed, it is only by this expedient that it is feasible to deal at all satisfactorily with the bewilderingly miscellaneous output of a large and enthusiastic congregation. (Diagram2)

In considering the many benefits which we gain from the use of incense, we must not overlook the aid of the special orders of Angels and nature-spirits which work by its means. The Angels of the Incense are of two quite distinct types—neither of them readily comprehensible except by those who have devoted much study to such subjects. Such investigators know that there are Angels of Music—great beings who express themselves in music just as we express ourselves in words—to whom an arpeggio is a greeting, a fugue a conversation, an oratortio an oration. There are Angels of Colour, who express themselves by kaleidoscopic changes of glowing hues, by coruscations and scintillations of rainbow light. So also are there Angels who live in and express themselves by what to us are perfumes and fragrances—though to use such words seems to degrade, to materialize the exquisite emanations in which they revel so joyously. A subdivision of that type includes the Angels of the Incense, who are drawn by its vibrations and find pleasure in utilizing its possibilities.

There is also another kind to whom the title of Angel is less appropriate. They are equally graceful and beautiful in their way, but in reality they belong to the kingdom of the elves or nature-spirits. In appearance they resemble the child-angels of Titian or Michael Angelo, except that they have no wings. They do not express themselves by means of perfumes, but they live by and on such emanations, and so are always to be found where fragrance is being disseminated. There are many varieties, some feeding upon coarse and loathsome odours, and others only upon