Going to church can be useful

I almost didn't go to church this morning. I had plans to meet a friend at the Metro stop, go to Mass at St. Paul's, and then go to a nice champagne brunch in Georgetown, but I got a cancellation email this morning. Almost went back to bed, but I went ahead and got dressed and wandered out, but instead of St. Paul's, I ended up at St. Stephen's, the bowling alley church.

The new pastor popped in to give a "talk" instead of the homily, and he looked adorable in his new red sash. Yesterday, the local pointy-hat held an investiture ceremony for the ten new monsignors from the Archdiocese of Washington, and His Eminence presented them each with their red sashes. A few days before he died, John Paul II had signed a papal honors list which elevated the pastor and the others to the rank of "monsignor," which is an honor usually reserved for distinguished, older priests (the pastor is actually younger than me!!). The new pastor has created quite a stir in the parish since his arrival three months ago. He's tall, slender, youthfully handsome, with salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, and a big smile, and quite a number of the parish ladies and girls (and not just a few guys!) get all giggly and shy when talking to him. I find him to be interestingly soft-spoken and self-effacing, but he's apparently politically well-connected, and served a previous tour as the private secretary to His Eminence, so my guess is this guy is on the fast track to a bishopric.

Anyway, I can't quite ever decide what to make of the music program here. They have a young organist who improvises well (though rather too often) and does what he can with their antiquated, decrepit organ (hence their million dollar campaign to build a new Spanish style pipe organ), but he seems to be quite the little prima donna. They have a tiny "Schola Cantorum" choir which sings the 11 a.m. high Mass, and they attempt a wide variety of literature, but they probably should either increase their numbers or simplify their musical choices. I get the impression the organist is either Episcopalian or came from an Episcopal church, cause his hymn selections are strongly Anglican, and he seldom programs traditional Catholic hymns or, thankfully, post-Vatican II trash music. He likes to mix his Mass settings, though, plays the familiar Proulx A Community Mass segments way too slowly, does the Gloria as verses with congregational antiphon (I hate that!), and he has the choir sing too many plainsong chants for introit, offertorio, and communio. He does a hymn with organ improv between each verse for the offertory instead of a proper anthem, and then at communion, he has the plainsong chant, then an insipid bad Catholic responsorial hymn, and then he tries to insert a full length communion motet, usually something from the Anglican canon.

I liked today's communion motet, "And I Saw a New Heaven," by the early 20th century Brit Edgar Bainton—it's on the list of anthems to be sung at my funeral. The text is taken from the Book of Revelations, and I especially like the ending section where the tenors introduce the concluding theme, "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." Hearing it sung this morning gave me some hope; while their ensemble was really too small to do the piece, I'm convinced now that it can be done well with as few as 16 or maybe even 12 singers.

Alas, if only my other desired funeral anthem, C.H.H. Parry's "I Was Glad When They Said unto Me," could be done with less than 32. Of course, what I really want would be the "Inneggiamo" chorus from Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana and the "Pilgrim's Chorus" from Wagner's Tannhäuser, but I know that's not going to happen because it will take at least four dozen excellent singers, and that's probably impossible to pull together at the last minute for a funeral.

Anyway, this afternoon I got into another discussion with a friend whining about another blog entry I wrote today featuring an opera cape I'd love to get for Christmas. This friend, mind you, is from an affluent and socially prominent old family, but he persists in this faux-egalitarianism and a general refusal to dress properly for social events such as operas, formal cocktail parties, weddings, etc. In the past, we've had little disputes about whether or not I'll go with him to operas and nice restaurants if he insists on wearing blue jeans and t-shirts all the time, and he rants and raves about my "elitism" and "snobbery" and "presumptuousness" because I think there's a time and a place for blue jeans and other occasions which demand suits or even tuxedos. Well, I'm glad I went to church this morning, because the gospel reading for this morning gave me Biblical authority for the concept of appropriate dress.

In Matthew 22:1-14, Jesus tells the parable of the king who gave a wedding feast for his son, but the invited guests refused to come. So, the king sent his servants out to invite whomever they could find on the streets to come to the wedding feast. Now, let me start quoting: "But when the king came in to meet the guests, he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment. The king said to him, 'My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?' But he was reduced to silence. Then the king said to his attendants, 'Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.’ "

Therefore, when I tell my friends to dress for church, dress for nice restaurants, dress for the opera, and dress for my dinner parties, I say it with Biblical authority, from the lips of Jesus himself.

Aren't you glad I went to church this morning?