Days like this

 

It’s one of those days. I can’t get through to the people or organisations I need, and with so many commitments I wonder how to make space for what truly matters. The rain paused briefly earlier, but now the evening is closing in again. Days like this test us, and each one brings its own surprises — a little joy, a little trouble.

The Offertory — what I like to call the fourth movement of the Mass — exists for a reason. It gathers up all our gifts: our time, worries, hopes, bodies, minds, and souls. With the bread and wine soon to be consecrated, they are offered through the hands of the priest. Our own daily offering — from morning prayer to the quiet prayer before bed — joins the offering made across the world, from the Pacific to the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean. A chain of prayer encircles the globe, and even creation seems to join in.

As the psalmist says (19:1–2):

The heavens are telling the glory of God;
the firmament proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
and night to night declares knowledge.

We are like that small drop of water mingled with the wine. And do we realise where the offertory blessings come from? They are rooted in synagogue and Temple worship:

Blessed are you, Lord God…
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu…

Yes — blessed are you, Lord God, even on a wet, wintry, troublesome sort of day.