Keeping the Hours

Keeping the Hours

I've often thought it would nice to go on retreat but never have, out of laziness, busyness, fear or obligation and beholdenness to others. Now retreat, of a kind, has been forced on us; well, some of us. There are those - the key workers, those in essential roles, the people we can't do without, the real heroes whether recognised or not - who do not have the luxury of retreat. The rest of us are in lockdown.

And now I'm here, in some ways, I want it to last for ever.

Of course, it is irksome. It has been a struggle coming to terms with the restrictions and the limitations. There have been problems with getting the shopping: enough shopping, the right kind of shopping, the shopping you need when you need it, shopping without risking your life or those of other people. But there is something good in it.

The rush has stopped. The manic helter-skelter of everyday life has paused. It is a relief not to have to be there then but only to have to be here now. It is good somehow for the soul.

Most of us spend most of our lives hurrying from one thing to another and for why? None of us knows. It is one product of the industrial revolution we could do without. Come to think of it: the industrial revolution has a lot to answer for. It has (excuse the language) f*cked *p the planet, destroyed the fragile web of life on which we depend, polluted the atmosphere with carbon dioxide and other noxious gases beyond recall ... and turned our lives into a living hell.

Why? To make the undeserving rich even richer. That's why.

Sorry. End of rant.

Keeping the hours. We need structure to our day. In retreat, in lockdown, we need some structure to hold on to, some framework that tells us where we are, or we go mad. The monastic communities knew that. They kept, & still do in some places, the hours of prayer.

These go back to the Desert Fathers in the mid fourth century but over the years they have become scrambled almost beyond recognition. I propose a revision. A scheme of hours fit for our own day and circumstances. Essentially, the hours of prayer give us the opportunity to stop every three hours and recalibrate our lives: this is where I am, this is who I am, this is what I'm doing, this is why I'm doing it.

The original scheme must have been something like this:

• Prime (the first hour, 3am, predawn)
• Terce (third, 6am, daybreak)
• Sext (sixth, 9am, midmorning)
• None (ninth, 12 noon)
• Afternoon (3pm)
• Dusk (6pm, nightfall)
• Compline (9pm, night)
• Vigil (12 midnight)

Near the equator, of course, daybreak is close to 6am and dusk to 6pm. So for the Desert Fathers in the deserts of Egypt around AD 350, the day and night divided approximately equally. Over the centuries, this scheme has become scrambled, the prayer clock seems to have been turned back or leapt forwards, or both, several times and new terms - lauds, matins - have been inserted into the scheme with confusing results.

Here is the new scheme.

The Burton Joyce Revised Hours of Prayer

• Prime (3am, pre-dawn, watching for the dawn, making a cup of tea)
• Lauds (6am, aka the dawn chorus, praise)
• Matins (9am, morning prayer, coffee-time)
• None (noon, midday prayers, lunch)
• Terce (3pm, afternoon prayer, afternoon tea)
• Sext (6pm, Evensong, thanksgiving, tea-time)
• Compline (9pm, night prayers, committal, supper)
• Vigil (midnight, night watch, the dark night of the soul)

Do you see that? Neat! By transferring Terce and Sext to the afternoon ... It may be nonsense to you but this None-sense makes sense to me.

Of course, there is no obligation. It's just that, knowing that in the background somewhere there is a structure to the day allows us to locate ourselves and, if we feel the inclination or have the opportunity, we can stop for a moment and recalibrate our lives, then carry on carrying on doing whatever it was we were doing before. Or something else.

No problem. Don't mention it.