We've been on vacation in Toronto for the last week. It's been a much-needed break from the stress of my work recently—exhausting in its own way, but still salutary. This past Sunday we went to Mass at a small Anglo-Catholic parish called St. Stephen-in-the-Fields. It's in Kensington Market, a neighborhood of Toronto that's known for its... eccentricity. It has a similar feel to Christiania in Denmark: hippy shops, bizarre art installations, and open drug use (mostly cannabis, but not exclusively). It's lower income than the Toronto average and can feel a bit rough around the edges.
St. Stephen's is situated on at the northwest corner of the neighborhood, next to a small plaza where some people seem to sleep rough. The building itself is pretty dilapidated. They're replacing their stained glass windows so there was a canopy of scaffolding over the altar, and the roof could use some TLC. Some inebriated locals wandered through Mass expressing varying levels of disdain/disgust for the Church. One man spat on and cursed at us all—it was a new experience to be on the receiving end of that vitriol.
This scene would have been pretty off-putting were it not for the vibrancy of the congregation and liturgy. It was, I think, Anglo-Catholicism at its finest. There in the decrepit building open to a rowdy street, clouds of incense and melodious psalms (albeit somewhat out of key) rose to heaven. It hearkened back to the Oxford Movement bringing the beauty of full ceremonials into impoverished areas. The sanctification of the ordinary was palpable. Liturgical ceremony and beauty is not merely the province of the economic elite. It can be a light for the marginalized. Indeed, that seems to be the highest use of liturgical beauty
The homily complemented this line of thought even further. Focusing on the week's Epistle reading, Mtr. Maggie implored us not to treat our religious disciplines as ends in and of themselves. Piety and devotion are, at the end of the day, useless if it is not always directing us to love. Our participation in the Eucharist is incomplete if it does not drive us out into the world to serve. Just as words of repentence is incomplete without reparation, words of gratitude without a lived-out response falls short of the mark.
This was convicting for me. Last time I went to confession, part of the conversation was about the way I've treated my spiritual practices as my religion. Developing consistent piety is important; don't get me wrong. But I often find myself focusing on maintaining my votive rule of life while thinking very little about my 'diaconal' rule of life. I have no answers regarding what this would look like in my life. I don't know how to move beyond piety into religion. But I need to make it a focus. Echoing the collect of the week, I beseech you, God, increase in me true religion.